A Short History 

of Nuclear Regulation,

1946–2009

by J. Samuel Walker and Thomas R. Wellock

History Staff

Office of the Secretary

U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission

October 2010

i

Preface

“History,” automobile maker Henry Ford once said, “is more or 

less...bunk.” Philosopher George Santayana was more charitable 

in his assessment of this discipline when he declared that “those 

who fail to study the past are condemned to repeat it.” In a sense, 

both Ford and Santayana were right. Much of the past has little 

meaning or importance for the present and deservedly remains 

forgotten in the dustbins of history. However, other parts of the 

past need to be remembered and studied in order for us to make 

sense from the present. Today’s events are a direct outgrowth of 

yesterday’s events, and understanding the history of any given 

problem is essential to approaching it knowledgeably. It is the 

task of the historian to gather evidence, to separate what is important from what is not, and to explain key events and decisions 

of the past.

This short history of nuclear regulation provides a brief overview of the most significant events in the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission’s past. Space limitations prevent discussion 

of all the important occurrences, and even the subjects that are 

included cannot be covered in full detail. The first chapter of 

this account is taken from George T. Mazuzan and J. Samuel 

Walker, Controlling the Atom: The Beginnings of Nuclear 

Regulation, 1946–1962 (University of California Press, Berkeley, CA, 1984). The second chapter is largely based on J. Samuel 

Walker, Containing the Atom: Nuclear Regulation in a Changing 

Environment, 1963–1971 (University of California Press, Berkeley, CA, 1992). The third chapter is adopted in significant part 

from J. Samuel Walker, Three Mile Island: A Nuclear Crisis in 

Historical Perspective (University of California Press, Berkeley, 

CA, 2004). The findings and conclusions on events that occurred 

after 1979 should be regarded as preliminary and tentative; they 

are not based on extensive research in primary sources. However, we hope that this overview will help explain how the past 

has shaped the present and will illuminate the considerations 

that have influenced regulatory decisions and procedures over 

the years. We also hope that this outline will suggest that history 

should be viewed as something more valuable than mere “bunk.”

iii

Contents

Chapter 1 The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Chapter 2 The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975. . . . 25

Chapter 3 The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission 

and Three Mile Island. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51

Chapter 4 New Issues, New Approaches. . . . . . . . . . . . 67

Chapter 5 A Terrorist Attack and a Nuclear Revival. . . . 83

1

Chapter One

The Formative

Years of

Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962

1

Chapter 1

The use of atomic bombs against the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945 ushered in a new historical epoch, breathlessly labeled in countless news reports, 

magazine articles, films, and radio broadcasts as the “atomic 

age.” Within a short time after the end of World War II, 

politicians, journalists, scientists, and business leaders suggested that peaceful applications of nuclear power could 

be as dramatic in their benefits as nuclear weapons were 

awesome in their destructive power. Nuclear physicist Alvin 

M. Weinberg told the U.S. Senate’s Special Committee on 

Atomic Energy in December 1945, “Atomic power can cure 

as well as kill. It can fertilize and enrich a region as well as 

devastate it. It can widen man’s horizons as well as force 

him back into the cave.” Newsweek reported that “even the 

most conservative scientists and industrialists [are] willing 

to outline a civilization which would make the comic-strip 

prophecies of Buck Rogers look obsolete.” Observing that 

ideas for the civilian uses of atomic energy ranged “from the 

practical to the fantastic,” it cited a few examples: (1) atomic-powered airplanes, rockets, and automobiles, (2) large 

electrical generating stations, (3) small “home power plants” 

to provide heat and electricity to individual homes, and (4) 

tiny atomic generators wired to clothing to keep a person 

cool in summer and warm in winter.

Developing nuclear energy for civilian purposes, as even the 

most enthusiastic proponents recognized, would take many 

years. The Government’s first priority was to maintain strict 

control over atomic technology and to investigate its military applications. The Atomic Energy Act of 1946, which 

was passed as tensions with the Union of Soviet Socialist 

Republics (U.S.S.R.) were developing into the cold war, 

acknowledged, in passing, the potential peaceful benefits of 

atomic power. However, it emphasized the military aspects 

of nuclear energy and underscored the need for secrecy 

and the continued production of weapons. The 1946 law 

did not allow for private, commercial application of atomic 
2

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

energy; instead, it created a virtual Government monopoly 

of the technology. To manage the Nation’s atomic energy 

programs, the Atomic Energy Act of 1946 established the 

five-member U.S. Atomic Energy Commission (AEC). 

The Atomic Energy Act of 1954

By 1954, the same Cold War calculations that had earlier 

curtailed the commercial uses of atomic energy led Federal 

officials to reverse course. The initial impetus for peaceful atomic development came mostly from considerations 

other than meeting America’s energy demands. In the early 

1950s, projections of future energy requirements predicted 

that atomic power would eventually play an important 

role in the Nation’s energy supplies, but these projections 

did not suggest an immediate need for the construction of 

atomic power reactors. The prevailing sense of urgency, at 

least among Government leaders, reflected instead the fear 

of falling behind other nations in fostering peaceful atomic 

progress. The strides that Great Britain was making in the 

field seemed disturbing enough, but the possibility that the 

U.S.S.R. might surpass the United States in civilian power 

development was even more ominous. AEC Commissioner 

Thomas E. Murray described a “nuclear power race” in a 

1953 speech and warned that the “stakes are high.” He added, “Once we become fully conscious of the possibility that 

power hungry countries will gravitate toward the U.S.S.R. 

if it wins the nuclear power race...it will be quite clear that 

this power race is no Everest-climbing, kudos-providing 

contest.” Like Murray, many Government officials emphasized that surrendering America’s lead in expanding the 

peaceful applications of atomic energy would deal a severe 

blow to its international prestige and world 

scientific dominance.

The eagerness to push for rapid civilian nuclear development was intensified by an impulse to show that atomic 

technology could serve both constructive and destructive 
3

Chapter 1

purposes. The assertions made shortly after World War II 

that atomic energy could provide spectacular advances that 

would raise living standards throughout the world remained 

unproven and largely untested. As the nuclear arms race 

took on more terrifying proportions with the development of 

thermonuclear bombs, the desire to demonstrate the benefits 

of atomic energy became more acute. President Dwight D. 

Eisenhower, spurred by the detonation of the U.S.S.R.’s 

first hydrogen device, starkly depicted the horror of nuclear 

warfare in a widely publicized address to the United Nations 

in December 1953. At the same time, he emphasized that 

“this greatest of all destructive forces can be developed into 

a great boon, for the benefit of all mankind.” Many other 

high Government officials echoed Eisenhower’s appeal for 

peaceful nuclear progress and his affirmation of the potential blessings of civilian atomic energy.

 By 1954, a broad political consensus viewed the development of nuclear energy for civilian purposes as a vital goal. 

In that year, Congress passed a new Atomic Energy Act that 

resulted partly from perceptions of a long-range need for 

new energy sources but mostly from the immediate commitment to maintain America’s world leadership in nuclear 

technology, enhance its international prestige, and demonstrate the benefits of peaceful atomic energy. Those considerations infused the atomic power program with a sense 

of urgency. The Atomic Energy Act of 1954, as amended, 

permitted for the first time the broad use of atomic energy 

for peaceful applications. It redefined the atomic energy program by ending the Government’s monopoly on technical 

data and making the growth of a commercial nuclear industry an important national goal. The act directed the AEC to 

“encourage widespread participation in the development and 

utilization of atomic energy for peaceful purposes.”

The Atomic Energy Act of 1954 also instructed the AEC 

to prepare regulations that would protect public health and 
4

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

safety from radiation hazards. Thus, it assigned the agency 

three major functions: (1) to continue its weapons program, 

(2) to promote the commercial uses of nuclear power, and 

(3) to protect against the hazards of those peaceful applications. Those functions were in many ways inseparable and 

proved to be incompatible when they were carried out by a 

single agency. The competing responsibilities and the precedence that the AEC gave to its military and promotional 

duties gradually damaged its credibility on regulatory issues 

and undermined public confidence in its safety programs.

The Atomic Energy Commission and the 

Development of Commercial Nuclear Power

 The Atomic Energy Act of 1954 gave the AEC wide discretion on how to proceed in establishing its promotional 

and regulatory policies. Despite the general agreement on 

ultimate objectives, the means by which these objectives 

should be accomplished soon created sharp philosophical 

differences between the AEC and its congressional oversight 

committee, the Joint Committee on Atomic Energy. The 

AEC favored a partnership between Government and industry in which private firms would play an integral role in 

demonstrating and expanding the use of atomic power. “The 

Commission’s program,” AEC Chairman Lewis L. Strauss 

explained, “is directed toward encouraging development of 

the uses of atomic energy in the framework of the American 

free enterprise system.” He added that it was the AEC’s conviction “that competitive economic nuclear power...would 

be most quickly achieved by construction and operation of 

fullscale plants by industry itself.” To accomplish its objectives, the AEC announced a “power demonstration reactor 

program” in January 1955. The agency offered to perform 

research and development on power reactors in its national 

laboratories, to subsidize additional research undertaken 

by industry through fixed-sum contracts, and to waive for 

7 years the fuel-use charges for the loan of fissionable mate-
5

Chapter 1

rials that the Government would continue to own. For their 

part, private utilities and vendors would supply the capital 

for the construction of nuclear plants and pay operating 

expenses other than fuel charges. The purpose of the demonstration program was to stimulate private participation and 

investment in exploring the technical and economic feasibility of different reactor designs. At that time, no single 

reactor type had clearly emerged as the most promising of 

the several that had been proposed.

The AEC also sought to meet industry demands for technical information. For several years, some utility executives 

had shown a keen interest in investigating the use of nuclear 

fission for generating electricity. However, commercial applications of atomic energy had been thwarted by the severe 

limitations placed on access to information as dictated by 

the Atomic Energy Act of 1946. In 1953, when the Joint 

Committee conducted public hearings on peaceful atomic 

development, spokesmen for private firms emphasized that 

industrial progress was possible only if the restrictions on 

obtaining data were eased. By opening nuclear technology 

to commercial applications, the Atomic Energy Act of 1954 

largely satisfied those complaints. From the utility companies’ perspective, the Atomic Energy Act of 1954 offered 

companies an opportunity to participate in nuclear development and gain experience in a technology that promised to 

help meet long-term energy demands. Vendors of reactor 

components welcomed the prospects of expanding their 

markets not only in the United States but also in foreign 

countries where the need for new sources of power was 

more immediate.

Despite those incentives, the AEC’s initiatives received 

a mixed response. The enthusiasm of the private utility 

industry for nuclear power development was tempered by 

several considerations. Although experiments with AECowned reactors had established the technical feasibility of 
6

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

using nuclear fission to produce electricity, many scientific 

and engineering questions remained unanswered. Further, 

the financial inducements that the AEC offered through its 

power demonstration reactor program did not eliminate the 

risks to a company’s balance sheets. The capital and operating costs of atomic power were certain to be much higher 

than those for fossil fuel plants. Across the industry, the 

prospects of realizing short-term profits from nuclear power 

were unlikely. An American Management Association symposium in 1957 concluded, “The atomic industry has not 

been—and is not likely to be for a decade—attractive as far 

as quick profits are concerned.” When Lewis Strauss made 

his oft-quoted statement in 1954 that nuclear power could 

provide electricity “too cheap to meter,” he was indulging in 

a flight of fancy. His remark did not represent the views of 

the AEC or the fledging nuclear industry that knew that the 

heavy investments required were a major impediment to the 

growth of nuclear power.

In addition to technical and financial considerations, recognition of the hazards of the technology intensified industry’s 

reservations about nuclear power. Based on experience 

with Government test reactors and the prevailing faith in 

the ability of scientists and engineers to solve technological problems, the AEC and industry leaders regarded the 

chances of a disastrous atomic accident as remote. However, 

they did not dismiss the possibility entirely. Francis K. McCune, General Manager of the Atomic Products Division of 

General Electric, told the Joint Committee in 1954 that “no 

matter how careful anyone in the atomic energy business 

may try to be, it is possible that accidents may occur.” 

Mindful of both the costs and the risks of atomic power, 

the electric utility industry responded to the Atomic Energy 

Act of 1954 and the AEC’s demonstration program with 

restraint. Although many utilities were interested in exploring the potential of nuclear power, few were willing to press 
7

Chapter 1

ahead rapidly in the face of existing uncertainties. The AEC 

was gratified and rather surprised that by August 1955, five 

power companies—either as individual utilities or as consortiums—had announced plans to build nuclear plants. Two 

of these companies decided to proceed without Government 

assistance, and the other three submitted proposals for projects under the AEC’s power demonstration program.

The Joint Committee was less impressed with the response 

of private industry to the Atomic Energy Act of 1954 and 

the AEC’s incentives. The Democratic majority of the 

committee favored a larger Government role in accelerating nuclear development, which conflicted with the AEC’s 

commitment to encourage maximum private participation. 

The issue became a major source of contention between the 

AEC and the Joint Committee, thus adding a philosophical 

dispute to the already strained political differences resulting from the bitter personal feud between Strauss and Joint 

Committee Chairman Clinton P. Anderson. 

In 1956, two Democratic members of the Joint Committee, 

Representative Chet Holifield and Senator Albert Gore, introduced legislation directing the AEC to construct six pilot 

nuclear plants, each with a different design, to “advance the 

art of generation of electrical energy from nuclear energy at 

the maximum possible rate.” Supporters of the bill contended that the United States was falling behind Great Britain 

and the U.S.S.R. in the quest for practical and economical 

nuclear power. Opponents of the measure denied that the 

United States had surrendered its lead in atomic technology 

and insisted that private industry was best able to expedite 

further development. Strauss declared that “we have a civilian program that is presently accomplishing far more than 

we had reason to expect in 1954.” The Gore-Holifield bill 

was defeated by a narrow margin in Congress, but the views 

that it embodied and the Joint Committee’s impatience for 

rapid development of atomic power placed a great deal of 
8

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

pressure on the AEC to show that its reactor programs were 

producing results.

The Atomic Energy Commission’s 

Regulatory Program

The AEC’s determination to push nuclear development 

through a partnership with private industry had a major 

impact on the agency’s regulatory policies. The AEC’s 

fundamental objective in drafting regulations was to ensure 

that public health and safety were protected without imposing overly burdensome requirements that would impede 

industrial growth. In 1955, Commissioner Willard F. Libby 

articulated an opinion common among AEC officials when 

he remarked, “Our great hazard is that this great benefit to 

mankind will be killed aborning by unnecessary regulation.” Other proponents of nuclear development shared 

this view. They realized that safety was indispensable to 

progress; an accident could destroy the industry or at least 

set it back many years. At the same time, they worried that 

regulations that were too restrictive or inflexible would 

discourage private participation and investment in 

nuclear technology.

The inherent difficulty that the AEC faced in distinguishing 

between essential and excessive regulations was compounded by technical uncertainties and by limited operating 

experience with power reactors. The safety record of the 

AEC’s own experimental reactors engendered confidence 

that safety problems could be resolved and the possibility of 

accidents could be kept to “an acceptable calculated risk.” 

However, experience at that time offered little definitive 

guidance on some important technical and safety questions, 

such as the effect of radiation on the properties of reactor 

materials; the durability of steel and other metals under 

stress in a reactor; the ways in which water reacted with uranium, thorium, aluminum, and other elements in a reactor; 
9

Chapter 1

and the measures needed to minimize radiation exposure in 

the event of a large accident.

The AEC’s regulatory staff, which was created soon after 

the passage of the Atomic Energy Act of 1954, confronted 

the task of writing regulations and devising licensing procedures rigorous enough to ensure safety but flexible enough 

to allow for new findings and rapid changes in atomic 

technology. Within a short period of time, the staff drafted 

rules and definitions on radiation protection standards, the 

distribution and safeguarding of fissionable materials, and 

the qualifications of reactor operators. It also established 

procedures for licensing privately owned reactors. The 

Atomic Energy Act of 1954 outlined a two-step procedure 

for granting licenses. The AEC would issue a construction 

permit if it found the safety analysis submitted by a utility for a proposed reactor to be acceptable. After the utility 

completed the construction and the AEC determined that 

the plant fully met safety requirements, the applicant would 

receive a license to load fuel and begin operation. 

Because of the uncertainties in technical knowledge and 

the AEC’s goal of encouraging different reactor designs, 

the agency had to judge license applications on a case-bycase basis. The early state of the technology precluded the 

possibility of formulating universal standards for all aspects 

of reactor engineering. The regulatory staff reviewed the 

information that applicants supplied on the suitability of the 

proposed site, construction specifications, a detailed plan of 

operation, and safety features. The proposal received further 

scrutiny from a panel of outside experts, the Advisory Committee on Reactor Safeguards (ACRS), which comprised 

part-time consultants who were recognized authorities on 

various aspects of reactor technology. ARCS conducted its 

own independent review of the application, and its recommendations and those of the staff went to the AEC Commissioners, who then made the final decision on whether or not 
10

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

to approve a construction permit or operating license. (Later, 

the Commission delegated the consideration of regulatory 

staff and ACRS judgments to panels drawn from the Atomic 

Safety and Licensing Board while retaining final jurisdiction 

in licensing cases if it chose to review a panel ruling.)

The AEC did not require a prospective power reactor owner 

to submit finalized technical data on the safety of a facility 

to receive a construction permit. The agency was willing to 

grant a conditional permit as long as the application provided “reasonable assurance” that the projected plant could be 

constructed and operated at the proposed site “without undue 

risk to the health and safety of the public.” This two-step 

licensing system enabled the AEC to authorize the construction of nuclear plants while allowing it enough time to investigate outstanding safety questions and to prescribe modifications to initial plans. Agency officials recognized that the 

wisdom of permitting construction to proceed without first 

resolving all potential safety problems was disputable, but 

they saw no alternatives in light of the existing state of the 

technology and the commitment to the rapid development of 

atomic power. They were confident that regulatory requirements were adequate to guard against the hazards of nuclear 

generating systems. However, the AEC acknowledged that 

it could not eliminate all risks. ACRS Chairman C. Rogers 

McCullough informed the Joint Committee in 1956 that 

because of technical uncertainties and limited operating 

experience, “the determination that the hazard is acceptably 

low is a matter of competent judgment.”

The Power Reactor Development 

Company Controversy

It soon became apparent that the AEC’s judgment on safety 

issues could be influenced by its ambition to promote the 

private development of nuclear power. The Commission’s 

actions in granting a construction permit for a commercial 
11

Chapter 1

fast breeder reactor, despite the reservations of ACRS, ignited an acrimonious controversy with the Joint Committee 

and raised questions about the AEC’s regulatory program. 

In January 1956, the Power Reactor Development Company 

(PRDC), a consortium of utilities led by Detroit Edison 

Company, applied for a permit to build a fast breeder reactor 

in Lagoona Beach, MI, located on Lake Erie within 30 miles 

of both Detroit, MI, and Toledo, OH. The AEC had already 

received applications for two privately financed reactors, but 

the PRDC proposal was the first to come in under the power 

demonstration program.

The fast breeder reactor that PRDC planned was far more 

advanced in its technological complexity than the light-water models were. Scientists and engineers had greater experience and familiarity with the light-water models proposed in 

earlier applications. After review of PRDC’s application and 

discussions with company representatives, ACRS concluded 

in an internal report to the Commission that “there is insufficient information available at this time to give assurance 

PRDC reactor under 

construction, 1958.
12

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

that the PRDC reactor can be operated at this site without 

public hazard.” ACRS also expressed uncertainty that its 

questions about the reactor’s safety could be resolved within 

PRDC’s proposed schedule for obtaining an operating 

license. ACRS urged that the AEC expand its experimental 

programs with fast breeder reactors to seek more complete 

data on the issues raised in the PRDC application.

The public dispute over the PRDC case was triggered by 

statements from Chairman Strauss and Commissioner 

Murray in congressional budget hearings. After the AEC requested a supplemental appropriation for the civilian power 

program, House Appropriations Committee Chairman Clarence Cannon subjected the Commissioners to sharp criticism 

when they testified in June 1956 on the need for the expenditures. Cannon, a strong public power advocate, badgered 

Strauss about private industry’s lack of progress in atomic 

development and suggested that PRDC had no “intention of 

building this reactor at any time in the determinable future.” 

Strauss, who was anxious to show that industry was making 

good headway, replied, “They [PRDC] have already spent 

eight million dollars of their own money to date on this 

project. I told you they were breaking ground on August 8. I 

have been invited to attend the ceremony; I intend to do so.” 

Inadvertently, he had revealed that he planned to attend the 

groundbreaking ceremony for a reactor whose construction 

permit was still being evaluated by the AEC.

During hearings the following day, Commissioner Murray, in an effort to demonstrate the need for research and 

development funds, disclosed the conclusions of ACRS 

on the PRDC application. Murray was so uneasy about the 

safety implications of the ACRS report that he met with 

Joint Committee Chairman Anderson to outline its contents. Members of the Joint Committee were angered and 

disturbed by Strauss’ and Murray’s revelations, not only because of safety concerns but also because of the AEC’s fail-
13

Chapter 1

ure to inform them officially about the ACRS reservations. 

The AEC was obliged by the Atomic Energy Act of 1954 

to keep the Joint Committee “fully and currently informed” 

about its activities, and Joint Committee members believed 

that, in the case of the ACRS report, the agency had failed 

to carry out its charge. The Joint Committee immediately requested a copy of the ACRS document. The AEC was reluctant to agree and, after long deliberation, offered to deliver a 

copy only if the Joint Committee would keep it “administratively confidential.” The Joint Committee refused to accept 

the report under those conditions. The AEC was even less 

accommodating with the State of Michigan. When Governor 

G. Mennen Williams, who had learned of the ACRS report 

from Senator Anderson, asked the AEC for a copy, it refused 

on the grounds that “it would be inappropriate to disclose 

the contents of internal documents.”

Meanwhile, the AEC’s regulatory staff was completing its 

review of PRDC’s application. The staff took a more optimistic view of the safety of the proposed reactor than ACRS 

had. Because the company had agreed to perform tests to 

answer the questions raised by ACRS, the staff recommended that it be granted a construction permit. On August 2, 

1956, the Commission decided to issue the permit by a vote 

of three to one (Murray was the dissenter). It acknowledged 

the ACRS concerns by inserting the word “conditional” 

in the construction permit to emphasize that the company 

would have to resolve the uncertainties about safety before 

it could receive an operating license. Commissioner Harold 

S. Vance summarized the majority’s reasoning during the 

discussion of the application. “We are doing something that 

we ordinarily would not do,” he said, “in that we would 

not ordinarily issue a construction permit unless we were 

satisfied that reasonable safety requirements had been met.” 

However, he added, “It may be some time before reasonable 

assurance can be obtained. If we were to delay the construction permit until then, it might delay a very important 
14

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

program. If we didn’t think that the chances were very good 

that all these questions would be resolved, we would not 

issue the permit.”

The AEC’s decision elicited angry protests from the Joint 

Committee. Congressman Holifield, citing Strauss’s earlier 

announcement of his plans to attend the groundbreaking 

ceremonies for the plant, charged that the AEC Chairman 

was acting in a “reckless and arrogant manner.” Anderson 

accused the agency of conducting “star chamber” proceedings and pledged that the Joint Committee would “ascertain 

the full facts involved in this precipitate action.”

The Joint Committee soon acted to prevent a recurrence of 

the AEC’s conduct in the PRDC case. Anderson ordered 

the Joint Committee staff to prepare a study of the AEC’s 

licensing procedures and regulatory organization and to consider, as part of the study, whether separate agencies should 

carry out regulatory and promotional responsibilities. The 

staff concluded that the creation of separate agencies was 

inadvisable at the time, principally because of the difficulty 

of recruiting qualified personnel for purely regulatory functions. It did, however, suggest other reforms in the AEC’s 

regulatory structure and procedures. Anderson implemented 

his staff’s proposals by introducing legislation to establish 

ACRS as a statutory body, direct that its reports on licensing cases be made public, and require public hearings on all 

reactor applications. The AEC opposed all three measures 

but muted its objections because Anderson presented them 

as amendments to a bill to provide indemnity insurance for 

reactor owners, which the agency strongly favored.

The Price-Anderson Act

The AEC regarded indemnity legislation as essential for 

stimulating private investment in nuclear power, a view 

that industry spokesmen and the Joint Committee shared. 

Because they recognized that the chances of a severe reactor 
15

Chapter 1

accident could not be reduced to zero, even the most enthusiastic industry proponents of atomic power were reluctant to 

push ahead without adequate liability insurance. Private insurance companies would offer up to $60 million in coverage 

per reactor, an amount that far exceeded what was available 

to any other industry in the United States. However, in the 

event of a serious accident, that amount of coverage seemed 

insufficient to pay claims for deaths, injuries, and property 

damage in areas surrounding the malfunctioning plant.

Therefore, industry executives sought a Government 

program to provide additional insurance protection. Consolidated Edison, Inc., Board of Directors Chairman H.R. 

Searing declared that although his company would proceed 

with the construction of Indian Point plant located near 

New York City, it would not load fuel and begin operation unless the insurance question were resolved. General 

Electric’s Francis K. McCune went even further by telling 

the Joint Committee in 1957 that if Congress did not enact 

indemnity legislation, his company would stop work on 

Commonwealth Edison Company’s Dresden Nuclear Power 

Station, then under construction. He suggested that without 

a Government insurance plan, the market for civilian atomic 

energy would collapse and vendors would withdraw from 

the field.

Spurred by the industry’s concerns, both the AEC and the 

Joint Committee considered methods that the Government 

could use to provide additional liability insurance for reactor 

owners. Their efforts culminated in legislation introduced 

by Senator Anderson and Congressman Melvin Price that 

proposed that the Government underwrite $500 million of 

insurance beyond the $60 million available from private 

companies. The AEC initially opposed setting a specific 

upper limit on the amount because no reliable method 

existed to estimate the possible damages from a reactor 

accident. However, Anderson rather arbitrarily decided on 
16

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

the $500 million figure because he wanted to avoid giving 

industry a “blank check.” The bill stipulated that Congress 

could authorize additional payments if necessary and also 

required reactor owners to contribute funds to the insurance 

pool as their plants were licensed. With strong support from 

the AEC and the industry, Congress passed the Price-Anderson Nuclear Industries Indemnity Act (Price-Anderson Act) 

in August 1957. In final form, the measure also included 

Anderson’s reforms to the AEC’s licensing procedures. 

Although the agency disliked Anderson’s amendments, it 

accepted them to avoid jeopardizing or retarding approval 

of the indemnity bill. In effect, the Price-Anderson Act was 

a regulatory measure because it provided insurance protection to victims of a nuclear accident, but it was largely 

promotional in motivation. Industry, the AEC, and the Joint 

Committee believed that it would remove a serious obstacle 

to private atomic development.

The Growth of Nuclear Power

The PRDC case and the Price-Anderson Act clearly illustrated the AEC’s emphasis on developmental rather than 

regulatory efforts. The precedence that the AEC gave to promoting the growth of nuclear power resulted from a number 

of considerations. The Atomic Energy Act of 1954 made the 

encouragement of the widespread use of atomic energy for 

peaceful purposes a national goal, but private industry was 

often hesitant to assume the costs and risks of development. 

Therefore, the AEC sought to persuade or induce private 

interests to invest in nuclear power. This endeavor seemed 

particularly urgent because of the intense pressure the Joint 

Committee placed on the agency to speed progress and its 

persistent threat to require the AEC to construct prototype 

plants if private firms failed to act promptly. One important way in which the AEC pursued its objective of private 

development was to write regulations designed to protect 

public safety without being overly burdensome to industry.
17

Chapter 1

Safety questions were largely a matter of judgment rather 

than something concrete or quantifiable, and AEC officials found it easier to assume that such issues had been or 

would be satisfactorily resolved than to assume that reactors 

would be built. For example, when the Commission issued 

a construction permit for the PRDC fast breeder reactor, 

its vision of an advanced technology plant that showed the 

effectiveness of its power demonstration reactor program 

outweighed the reservations of ACRS. Although the AEC 

was aware of the implications that safety questions posed 

for the development of the technology, it was confident that 

nuclear science, in due time, would provide the answers to 

outstanding issues. In short, the desire for tangible signs 

of progress was more compelling than first resolving more 

ethereal safety issues.

The AEC’s emphasis on stimulating atomic development 

did not mean that it was inattentive to safety issues. The 

regulations that the staff drafted shortly after passage of the 

Atomic Energy Act of 1954 reflected careful consideration 

of the best scientific information and judgment available at 

the time. The AEC recognized and publicly acknowledged 

the possibility of accidents in such a new and rapidly changing technology; it never offered absolute assurances that 

accidents would not occur. Nevertheless, it believed that 

compliance with its regulations would minimize the chances 

of a serious accident. The agency did not view its developmental efforts as more important than regulatory policies, 

but it clearly viewed the encouragement of industrial growth 

as more immediate need.

By 1962, the AEC’s efforts to stimulate private participation 

in nuclear power development had produced some encouraging results. In a report to President John F. Kennedy, 

the agency proudly pointed out that in the short time since 

atomic technology had been opened to private enterprise, six 

“sizeable” power reactors had begun operation, and two of 
18

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

those reactors had been built without Government subsidies. 

Despite industry’s lingering concerns about the costs of 

nuclear power relative to fossil fuels, the AEC’s promotional 

and regulatory programs had fostered the initial growth of 

commercial nuclear power. The agency predicted that by 

the year 2000 nuclear plants might provide up to 50 percent 

of the Nation’s electrical generating capacity. Despite the 

AEC’s claims, the future of the nuclear industry remained 

precarious. The 14 reactors in operation or under construction were still far from being commercially competitive or 

technologically proven, and interest in further development 

among utilities was uncertain. Both the AEC and Joint Committee were acutely aware of, and deeply disturbed about, 

those uncertainties.

Radiation Protection

To make matters worse from the perspective of nuclear proponents, there were signs of increasing public opposition to, 

or at least concern about, nuclear power hazards. In the early 

days of nuclear power development, public attitudes toward 

the technology were highly favorable, as the few opinion 

polls on the subject revealed. Press coverage of nuclear 

power was also overwhelmingly positive. For example, 

an article in National Geographic in 1958 concluded that 

“abundant energy released from the hearts of atoms promises a vastly different and better tomorrow for all mankind.” 

However, in the late 1950s and early 1960s, the public 

became more alert to, and anxious about, the hazards of 

radiation, stemming largely from a major controversy over 

radioactive fallout from nuclear weapons testing. One result 

was that the public became increasingly troubled about the 

risks of exposure to radioactivity from any source, including 

nuclear power.

Before World War II, the dangers of radiation were primarily a matter of interest and concern to a relatively small 

group of scientists and physicians. Within a short period of 
19

Chapter 1

time after the discovery of x rays and natural radioactivity in 

the 1890s, scientific investigators concluded that exposure 

to radiation could cause serious health problems, ranging 

from loss of hair and skin irritations to sterility and cancer. 

Ignorance of the hazards of x rays and radium and the use 

of them for frivolous purposes led to tragic consequences 

for people who received large doses of radiation from these 

sources. As experience with, and experimental data on, the 

effects of radiation gradually accumulated, professionals 

developed guidelines to protect x-ray technicians and other 

radiation workers from excessive exposure.

In 1934, a recently formed American committee representing professional societies and x-ray equipment manufacturers recommended for the first time a quantitative “tolerance 

dose” of radiation of 0.1 roentgen per day of whole-body 

exposure from external sources. The roentgen was a unit of 

measurement that indicated the effects of gamma rays or x 

rays on cells. Committee members believed that levels of 

radiation below the tolerance dose were generally safe and 

unlikely to cause injury “in the average individual.” The following year, an international radiation protection committee 

composed of experts from five nations took similar action. 

Neither body regarded its recommended tolerance dose as 

definitive because empirical evidence remained fragmented 

and inconclusive. However, they were confident that available information made their proposals reasonable and provided an adequate margin of safety for the relatively small 

number of individuals exposed to radiation in their jobs.

The bombing of Hiroshima signaled the dawn of the atomic 

age and made radiation safety a vastly more complex task 

for two reasons. First, nuclear fission created many radioactive isotopes that did not previously exist in nature. Professionals in the field of radiation protection had to evaluate 

the hazards of these new little-known radioactive substances 

instead of considering only x rays and radium. Second, the 
20

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

problem of radiation safety extended to significantly larger 

segments of the population who could be exposed to radiation resulting from the development of new applications 

of atomic energy. Radiation protection broadened from a 

medical issue of limited proportions to a public health issue 

of, potentially at least, major dimensions.

As a result of these drastically altered circumstances, scientific authorities reassessed their recommendations on radiation protection. They modified their philosophy pertaining to 

radiological safety by abandoning the previous concept of a 

“tolerance dose,” which assumed that exposure to radiation 

below the specified limits was generally harmless. Experiments in genetics indicated that reproductive cells were 

highly susceptible to damage from even small amounts of 

radiation. By the early 1940s, most scientists had rejected 

the idea that exposure to radiation below a certain threshold 

was inconsequential, at least with respect to genetic effects. 

In 1946, the National Committee on Radiation Protection 

(NCRP), a U.S committee of radiation experts, took action 

that reflected the consensus of opinion by replacing the 

terminology of “tolerance dose” with “maximum permissible dose,” which it thought better conveyed the principle 

that no quantity of radiation was certifiably safe. It defined 

the “permissible dose” as that which “in the light of present knowledge, is not expected to cause appreciable bodily 

injury to a person at any time during his lifetime.” While 

acknowledging the possibility that an individual could suffer 

harmful effects from radiation in amounts below the allowable limits, NCRP emphasized that the permissible dose was 

based on the belief that “the probability of the occurrence of 

such injuries must be so low that the risk should be readily 

acceptable to the average individual.”

Because of the growth of atomic energy programs and the 

substantial increase in the number of individuals working with radiation sources, NCRP had decided by 1948 to 
21

Chapter 1

reduce its recommended occupational exposure limits to 50 

percent of the 1934 level. The International Commission on 

Radiological Protection (ICRP), NCRP’s international counterpart, adopted the same maximum permissible dose after 

World War II. The new maximum permissible whole-body 

dose that NCRP and ICRP recommended was 0.3 roentgens 

per 6day work week, which was measured by exposure of 

the “most critical” tissue in the blood-forming organs, the 

gonads, and the lens of the eye. Higher limits applied for 

less sensitive areas of the body. In addition to the levels established for exposure to x rays or gamma rays, NCRP and 

ICRP also issued the maximum permissible concentrations 

in air and water for a list of radioactive isotopes that give off 

alpha or beta particles, known as “internal emitters.” Alpha 

and beta particles cannot penetrate vital human tissue from 

outside the body, but they can pose a serious health hazard 

if they enter the body through the consumption of contaminated food or water or the inhalation of contaminated air.

The allowable limits established by both NCRP and ICRP 

applied only to radiation workers. However, because of the 

genetic effects of radiation and the possibility that other 

people could be exposed in an accident or an emergency, 

each group also issued guidelines for larger segments of the 

population. Because of the greater sensitivity of young persons to radiation, NCRP recommended that the occupational 

maximum permissible dose be reduced by a factor of 10 for 

anyone under the age of 18. ICRP went further by proposing 

a limit of one-tenth of the occupational level for the general 

population. Neither organization had any legal authority 

or official standing, but because their recommendations 

reflected the findings and opinions of leading experts in the 

field of radiation protection, they had significant influence 

on Government agencies concerned with radiological safety. 

The AEC used NCRP’s occupational limits in its own installations and, after passage of the 1954 Atomic Energy Act, in 

its regulations for licensees. The agency’s radiation protec-
22

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

tion regulations, which were first issued for public comment 

in 1955 and became effective in 1957, followed NCRP’s 

recommendations for radiation workers and set a permissible dose of one-tenth of the occupational level for members 

of the general population who potentially could be affected 

by licensee operations.

The Fallout Controversy

In the immediate postwar period, deliberations over the risks 

of radiation and permissible exposure levels were confined 

mostly to scientific circles. As a result of the fallout controversy, concern about radiation moved from the rarified 

realms of scientific and medical discourse to front page 

news. Atmospheric testing of nuclear weapons by the United 

States, the U.S.S.R., and Great Britain produced radioactive 

fallout that spread to populated areas far from the sites of 

the explosions. The fallout debate made radiation hazards a 

bitterly contested political issue. Scientists disagreed sharply 

about how serious a risk fallout presented to the general 

Researcher at 

Brookhaven 

National Laboratory 

removes plug from 

lead sheild containing radioactive 

materials. Man at 

his left holds Geiger 

counter to monitor 

radiation levels.
23

Chapter 1

population, and this issue became a prominent subject in 

news reports, magazine stories, political campaigns, congressional hearings, and scientific studies. This issue not 

only focused public attention on the potential health hazards 

of relatively small amounts of radiation (as opposed to acute 

exposure) but also revealed that scientists did not know a 

great deal about the effects of low-level radiation.

The fallout controversy affected the AEC’s regulatory program in two important ways. First, it led to a tightening of 

the agency’s radiation standards. In response to increasing 

public concern and the findings of scientific groups, NCRP 

and ICRP both lowered their recommended permissible 

levels of exposure. Their actions provided a larger margin 

of safety, but they emphasized that no evidence existed to 

suggest that the previous levels had been dangerously high. 

They reduced their limits for occupational exposure to an 

average of 5 rem per year after the age of 18 while continuing to suggest that general population exposure levels be 

restricted to 10 percent of the occupational levels (0.5 rem 

per year) for individuals. The rem was a unit of measure 

that had largely replaced the roentgen and that indicated the 

biological effect of radiation exposure more precisely. For 

x rays and gamma rays, 1 rem equaled 1 roentgen. Radiation protection organizations added a new stipulation that, 

for genetic reasons, the average level for large population 

groups should not exceed one-thirtieth of the occupational 

limit, or 0.17 rem per year. The AEC promptly adopted the 

new recommendations as a part of its regulations; it issued 

them for public comment in 1959 and made them effective 

on January 1, 1961.

The fallout debate further influenced the AEC’s regulatory program by arousing public anxieties about the health 

effects of low-level radiation. For example, the level of 

anxiety among members of the public was evident in citizen 

protests against the dumping of low-level radioactive wastes 
24

The Formative Years of Nuclear Regulation, 

1946–1962, 

in ocean waters. For more than a decade, the AEC had 

authorized the dumping of such wastes under prescribed 

conditions, but it became a subject of controversy only 

after the fallout issue sensitized public opinion to radiation 

hazards. In a similar manner, the first widespread objections 

to the construction of proposed nuclear power plants arose 

in the wake of the fallout debate. Citizen protests against 

the construction of the Ravenswood plant in the heart of 

New York City in 1963 and the Bodega Bay Nuclear Power 

Plant on the coast of California near the boundary of the San 

Andreas fault in 1963–1964 played a vital role in aborting 

both projects. 

At the end of the first decade following the passage of the 

Atomic Energy Act of 1954, the prospects for rapid nuclear 

power development were mixed. Impressive strides had certainly been made, but many uncertainties remained. Public 

support for this technology was apparently strong, but this 

support could not be taken for granted as the protests against 

the Ravenswood and Bodega Bay plants had shown. However, beginning in the mid-1960s, a variety of considerations 

fueled an unanticipated boom in the nuclear power industry 

that resolved some of the unknowns about nuclear technology while at the same time raising a host of new questions 

for the AEC’s regulatory staff.
The Nuclear

Power Debate,

1963–1975

Chapter Two

25

Chapter 2

During the late 1950s and early 1960s, the use of nuclear 

power to generate electricity was a novel and developing 

technology. Because relatively few plants were operating, 

under construction, or on order, the scope of the AEC’s 

regulatory functions such as reactor siting, licensing, and inspection was still limited. However, during the later 1960s, 

the Nation’s utilities rapidly increased their orders for nuclear power stations, participating in what Philip Sporn, past 

president of the American Electric Power Service Corporation, described in 1967 as the “great bandwagon market.” 

At the same time, the size of nuclear plants that were under 

construction also expanded dramatically. The sudden arrival 

of commercially competitive nuclear power placed unprecedented demands on the AEC’s regulatory staff and raised 

new safety problems that reactor experts had not previously 

considered. The surge in reactor orders and the growth in the 

size of individual plants also spurred new concerns about 

the environmental impact of nuclear power and intensified 

public uneasiness about the safety of the technology.

The Bandwagon Market

The bandwagon market was an outgrowth of several 

developments that enhanced the appeal of nuclear power 

to utilities in the mid- to late 1960s. One example was the 

intense competition between the two leading vendors of 

nuclear plants, General Electric and Westinghouse. In 1963, 

General Electric made a daring move to increase its reactor sales and to convince utilities that nuclear power was a 

safe, reliable, and cost-competitive alternative to fossil fuel. 

It offered a “turnkey” contract to Jersey Central Power and 

Light Company to build the 515megawatt electric (MWe) 

Oyster Creek Nuclear Generating Station near Toms River, 

NJ. For a fixed cost of $66 million, General Electric agreed 

to supply the entire plant to the utility. (The term “turnkey” 

suggested that the utility would merely have to turn a key 

to start operating the facility.) The company successfully 
26

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

outbid not only Westinghouse but also manufacturers of 

coal-fired units. General Electric expected to lose money 

on the Oyster Creek contract but hoped that the plant would 

help to stimulate the market for nuclear power.

The Oyster Creek contract opened the “turnkey era” of 

commercial nuclear power and came to symbolize the 

competitive debut of the technology. AEC Chairman Glenn 

T. Seaborg told President Lyndon B. Johnson that it represented an “economic breakthrough” for nuclear electricity. 

Westinghouse followed General Electric’s lead in offering 

turnkey contracts for nuclear plants, setting off a fierce corporate battle. Turnkey plants were a financial blow for both 

companies; their losses ran into the hundreds of millions of 

dollars before they finally stopped offering turnkey arrangements. One General Electric official commented, “It’s going 

to take a long time to restore to the treasury the demands 

we put on it to establish ourselves in the nuclear business.” 

However, the turnkey contracts fulfilled General Electric’s 

hopes of stirring interest among, and orders from, utilities. 

These contracts played a major role in triggering the bandwagon market.

Other important considerations at the time convinced a 

growing number of utilities to buy nuclear plants. One such 

consideration was the spread of power-pooling arrangements among utilities, which encouraged the construction of larger generating stations by easing fears of excess 

capacity and overexpansion. A utility with extra or reserve 

power could sell that power to other companies through 

interconnections. The desirability and feasibility of using 

larger individual plants worked to the benefit of nuclear 

vendors. They emphasized that bigger plants would produce 

economies of scale that would cut capital costs per unit of 

power and improve efficiency. This philosophy helped to 

overcome a major disadvantage of nuclear power relative 

to fossil fuel—the heavy capital requirements for building 
27

Chapter 2

atomic plants. During the late 1960s, designs for nuclear 

facilities significantly increased from 500 MWe to 800 MWe 

to 1,000 MWe even though operating experience was still 

limited to units in the 200MWe range or less. The practice 

of “design by extrapolation” had been employed for fossil 

fuel units since the early 1950s. Before the mid-1960s, this 

approach appeared to work well, and vendors naturally 

extended it to nuclear units.

In addition to turnkey contracts, system interconnections, 

and an increase in unit size, a growing national concern 

about air pollution in the 1960s made nuclear power more 

attractive to utilities. Coal plants were major contributors to 

the deterioration of air quality and were obvious targets for 

cleanup efforts. As the campaign to improve the environment gained strength, the electric utility industry became 

more mindful of the cost of pollution control in fossil fuel 

plants. They increasingly viewed nuclear power as a good 

alternative to paying the expenses of pollution abatement in 

coal-fired units.

The bandwagon market for nuclear power reached its peak 

during 1966 and 1967, exceeding, in the words of one General Electric official, “even the most optimistic estimates.” 

In 1965, the year before the reactor boom gathered momentum, nuclear vendors sold four nuclear plants with a total 

of 17 percent of the capacity that utilities purchased that 

year. In 1966, by contrast, utilities bought 20 nuclear units 

that made up 36 percent of the electrical capacity committed. The following year, nuclear vendors sold 31 units that 

represented 49 percent of the capacity ordered. In 1968, the 

number of reactor orders dropped to 17, but the percentage 

of the capacity filled with nuclear plants remained high at 

47 percent.

The bandwagon market orders were large facilities that 

far exceeded the size of current operating reactors. Be-
28

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

tween 1963 (when the 515-MWe Oyster Creek reactor was 

ordered) and 1969 (when Oyster Creek began operation), 

the AEC issued 38 construction permits for units that were 

larger than Oyster Creek. Of those plants, 28 were in the 

800- to 1,100-MWe range. The degree of extrapolation from 

small plants to mammoth ones was a matter of concern even 

to some strong nuclear advocates. By the late 1960s, it was 

apparent that design by extrapolation was not as successful as anticipated earlier for either nuclear or coal facilities. 

“We hoped the new machines would run just like the old 

ones we’re familiar with,” complained one utility executive 

about his huge coal-burning stations. However, he added 

that “they sure as hell don’t.”

Burdens of the Bandwagon Market

The rapid increase in the number of reactor applications 

and in the size of proposed plants placed enormous burdens 

on the AEC’s regulatory staff. The flood of applications 

inevitably caused licensing delays because the AEC lacked 

enough qualified professionals. Between 1965 and 1970, the 

size of the regulatory staff increased by about 50 percent, 

but its licensing and inspection caseload increased by about 

600 percent. The average time required to process a construction permit application stretched from about 1 year in 

1965 to over 18 months by 1970. The growing backlog drew 

bitter complaints from utilities applying to build plants and 

from nuclear vendors. One utility executive predicted that 

if delays became commonplace, “it can safely be asserted 

that the splendid promise of nuclear power will have had a 

very short life.” Another even more critical utility executive 

called the licensing process “a modern day Spanish Inquisition” carried out by “AEC engineers, scientists, and consultants [who] have no serious economic discipline.” The 

AEC attempted to streamline its licensing procedures but 

found it impossible to reduce its review time or to satisfy the 

demands of the industry.
29

Chapter 2

The licensing process became longer not only because of 

the number of applications that the AEC had to evaluate 

but also because of the complexity of the proposals that it 

received. The growth in the size of reactors and the practice 

of design by extrapolation raised many complex safety issues 

that could not be easily resolved. The exercise of careful 

judgment in assessing reactor applications was always critical, but it became even more so as utilities campaigned to 

build plants closer to populated regions. Although the AEC 

adopted an informal prohibition against “metropolitan siting” 

in urban locations (such as the proposed Ravenswood plant 

in downtown New York), it was more receptive to “suburban 

siting” fairly close to urban populations. This type of siting 

reduced the emphasis on one traditional means of protecting 

the public from the consequences of a nuclear accident—

“remote siting.” It placed greater dependence on another 

general method used to shield the public from the effects of 

an accident—engineered safeguards (a term that was later 

superseded by “engineered safety features”) that were built 

into the plant. Even as the relative importance of engineered 

safeguards increased in the 1960s, questions arose about 

their reliability in preventing a massive release of radioactivity to the environment in the event of a severe accident.

The engineered safeguards in nuclear plants differed in 

design and operation, but they all performed two key functions: (1) to prevent the overheating and potential melting of 

the reactor core (which held the nuclear fuel) and (2) to prevent radioactive substances from escaping from the plant if 

the core was damaged. A number of systems were placed in 

reactors to remove heat and reduce excessive pressure if an 

accident occurred. For example, these systems included core 

sprays and pressure suppression pools; “safety injection” 

systems that would shoot large volumes of water into the 

reactor vessel; and combinations of filters, vents, scrubbers, 

and air circulators that would collect and retain radioactive 

gases and particles released during an accident. The final 
30

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

line of defense if the engineered safeguards failed was the 

containment building, a large, often dome-shaped structure 

that surrounded the reactor and the associated steam-producing equipment and safety systems.

Reactor experts were confident that the engineered safety 

features built into a plant and the containment structure 

would protect the public from the effects of an accident in 

almost any situation. However, they were troubled by the 

possibility that a chain of events could conceivably take 

place that would bypass or override the safety systems and, 

in the worst case, breach containment. “No one is in a position to demonstrate that a reactor accident with consequent 

escape of fission products to the environment will never 

happen,” Clifford K. Beck, the AEC’s Deputy Director of 

Regulation, told the Joint Committee in 1967. “No one really expects such an accident, but no one is in a position to 

say with full certainty that it will not occur.”

The AEC strived to reduce the likelihood of an accident to 

a minimum. It based its decisions on the safety of reactor 

designs and plant applications on operating experience, 

engineering judgment, and experiments with test reactors. 

Experience with the first commercial reactors had been 

encouraging; it had provided a great deal of information 

that was useful in understanding reactor science. However, 

this experience was of limited application to the newer 

and larger reactors that utilities were building by the late 

1960s. The rapid growth in reactor size placed a premium 

on the careful use of engineering judgment. To decrease 

the chances of a major accident that could threaten public 

health, the AEC required multiple backup equipment and redundancies in safety designs. It also employed conservative 

assumptions—that is, to assume the worst probable conditions for any postulated accident—about the ways in which 

an accident might damage or incapacitate safety systems in 

its evaluation of reactor proposals. 
31

Chapter 2

The Problem of Core Meltdown

The regulatory staff sought to gain as much experimental 

data as possible to enrich its knowledge and inform its 

collective engineering judgment. This was especially vital 

in light of the many unanswered questions about reactor 

behavior. The AEC had sponsored hundreds of small-scale 

experiments since the early 1950s that had yielded key 

information about a variety of reactor safety problems. 

However, these experiments provided little guidance on 

the issue of greatest concern to the AEC and the ACRS 

by the late 1960s—a core meltdown caused by a loss-ofcoolant accident. Reactor experts had long recognized that 

a core meltdown was a plausible, if unlikely, occurrence. 

For example, a massive loss of coolant could occur if a 

large pipe that fed cooling water to the core broke. If the 

plant’s emergency cooling systems also failed, the buildup 

of “decay heat,” which resulted from continuing radioactive decay after the reactor shut down, could cause the core 

to melt. In older and smaller reactors, the experts were 

confident that even under the worst conditions—an accident 

in which the loss of coolant melted the core and it, in turn, 

melted through the pressure vessel that held the core—the 

containment structure would prevent a massive release of 

radioactivity to the environment. However, as proposed 

plants increased significantly in size, they began to worry 

that a core meltdown could lead to a breach of containment. 

This condition became their primary focus partly because of 

the greater decay heat that the larger plants would produce 

and partly because nuclear vendors did not increase the size 

of their containment buildings in corresponding proportions 

to the size of their reactors. 

The greatest source of concern about a loss-of-coolant accident in large reactors was that the molten fuel would melt 

through not only the pressure vessel but also through the 

thick layer of concrete at the foundation of the containment 
32

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

building. The intensely radioactive fuel would then continue 

on its downward path into the ground. This scenario became 

known as the “China syndrome,” because the melted core 

would presumably head through the Earth toward China. 

Other possible dangers of a core meltdown were that the 

molten fuel would breach containment either by reacting 

with water to cause a steam explosion or by releasing elements that could then combine to cause a chemical explosion. The precise effects of a large core meltdown were 

uncertain, but it was clear that the effects of radioactivity 

spewing into the atmosphere could be disastrous. ACRS and 

the regulatory staff regarded the chances of such an accident 

as low; they believed that it would occur only if the emergency core cooling system (ECCS), made up of redundant 

equipment that would rapidly feed water into the core, failed 

to function properly. However, they acknowledged the possibility that the ECCS might not work as designed. Without 

containment as a fail-safe final line of defense against any 

conceivable accident, they sought other means to provide 

safeguards against the China syndrome.

LOFT reactor under 

construction, 1969.
33

Chapter 2

At the prodding of ACRS, which first sounded the alarm 

about the China syndrome, the AEC established a special 

task force to look into the problem of core meltdown in 

1966. The committee, chaired by William K. Ergen, a reactor safety expert and former ACRS member from Oak Ridge 

National Laboratory, submitted its findings to the AEC in 

October 1967. The report offered assurances about the improbability of a core meltdown and the reliability of ECCS 

designs, but it also acknowledged that a loss-of-coolant 

accident could cause a breach of containment if the ECCS 

failed to perform. Therefore, containment could no longer 

be regarded as an inviolable barrier to the escape of radioactivity. This finding represented a milestone in the evolution of reactor regulation. In effect, it imposed a modified 

approach to reactor safety.

Previously, the AEC had viewed the containment building 

as the final independent line of defense against the release of 

radiation; even if a serious accident took place, the damage 

that it caused would be restricted to the plant. However, 

once it became apparent that under some circumstances, the 

containment building might not hold, the key to protecting 

the public from a large release of radiation was to prevent 

accidents severe enough to threaten containment; the prevention of these types of accidents depended heavily on a 

properly designed and functioning ECCS.

The problem facing the AEC’s regulatory staff was that 

experimental work and experience with emergency cooling was very limited. Finding a way to test and to provide 

empirical support for the reliability of emergency cooling 

became the central concern of the AEC’s safety research 

program. Plans had been underway since the early 1960s to 

build an experimental reactor, known as the Loss-of-Fluid 

Tests (LOFT) reactor, at the AEC’s reactor testing station in 

Idaho. Its purpose was to provide data about the effects of 

a loss-of-coolant accident. For a variety of reasons, includ-
34

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

ing weak management of the test program, a change in 

design, and reduced funding, progress on the LOFT reactor 

and the preliminary tests that were essential for its success 

were chronically delayed. Despite the complaints of ACRS 

and the regulatory staff, the AEC diverted money from the 

LOFT project and other safety research projects on existing 

light-water reactor designs to other projects related to the 

development of fast breeder reactors. A proven fast breeder 

reactor was an urgent objective for the AEC and the Joint 

Committee; Seaborg described it as “a priority national 

goal” that could ensure “an essentially unlimited energy 

supply, free from problems of fuel resources and atmospheric contamination.” 

To the consternation of the AEC, experiments run at the 

Idaho test site in late 1970 and early 1971 suggested that the 

ECCS in light-water reactors might not work as designed. 

As a part of the preliminary experiments that were used to 

design the LOFT reactor, researchers ran a series of “semiscale” tests on a core that was only 9 inches long (compared 

to a length of 144 inches in a power reactor). The experiments were run by heating a simulated core electrically to 

allow the cooling water to escape and then injecting emergency coolant. To the surprise of the investigators, the high 

steam pressure that was created in the vessel by the loss of 

coolant blocked the flow of water from the ECCS. Without 

ever reaching the core, about 90 percent of the emergency 

coolant flowed out of the same break that had caused the 

loss of coolant in the first place.

In many ways, the semiscale experiments were not accurate 

simulations of designs or conditions in actual power reactors. The size, scale, and design of the experiments and the 

channels that directed the flow of coolant in the test model 

were markedly different from those in an actual reactor. 

Nevertheless, the results of the tests were disquieting. They 

introduced a new element of uncertainty into assessing the 
35

Chapter 2

performance of ECCSs. The outcome of the tests had not 

been anticipated and called into question the analytical 

methods used to predict the events that would occur in a 

loss-of-coolant accident. These results were hardly conclusive, but their implications for the effectiveness of ECCSs 

were troubling. 

The semiscale tests caught the AEC unprepared, and the 

AEC was uncertain about how to respond. Harold Price, the 

Director of Regulation, directed a special task force that he 

had recently formed to focus on the ECCS question and to 

draft a “white paper” within a month. Seaborg, for the first 

time, called the Office of Management and Budget to plead 

for more funds for safety research on light-water reactors. 

While waiting for the task force to finish its work, the AEC 

tried to keep information about the semiscale tests from getting into the public domain, even to the extent of withholding information about the tests from the Joint Committee. 

The results of the tests came at a very awkward time for the 

AEC. It was under renewed pressure from utilities facing 

power shortages and from the Joint Committee to streamline 

the licensing process and eliminate excessive delays. At the 

same time, Seaborg was successfully appealing to President 

Richard M. Nixon for support of the fast breeder reactor, 

and controversy over the semiscale tests and reactor safety 

could undermine congressional backing for the fast breeder 

reactor program. By spring 1971, nuclear critics were 

expressing opposition to the licensing of several proposed 

reactors, and news of the semiscale experiments seemed 

likely to support their efforts. 

For those reasons, the AEC sought to resolve the ECCS 

issue as promptly and quietly as possible. It wanted to settle 

the uncertainties about safety without arousing a public 

debate that could slow the bandwagon market. Even before 

the task force that Price had established completed its study 

of the ECCS problem, the Commission decided to publish 
36

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

“interim acceptance criteria” for ECCSs that licensees 

would have to meet. It imposed a series of requirements that 

it believed would ensure that the ECCS in a plant would 

prevent a core meltdown after a loss-of-coolant accident. 

The AEC did not prescribe methods necessary for meeting 

the interim criteria, but, in effect, it mandated that manufacturers and utilities set an upper limit on the amount of heat 

generated by reactors. In some cases, this would force utilities to reduce the peak operating temperatures (and hence, 

the power) of their plants. Price told a press conference on 

June 19, 1971, that although the AEC thought that it was 

impossible “to guarantee absolute safety,” he was “confident 

that these criteria will assure that the emergency core cooling systems will perform adequately to protect the temperature of the core from getting out of hand.”

The interim ECCS criteria failed to achieve the AEC’s 

objectives. News about the semiscale experiments triggered complaints about the AEC’s handling of the issue 

even from friendly observers. It also prompted calls from 

nuclear critics for a licensing moratorium and a shutdown 

of the 11 plants then operating. Criticism expressed by the 

Union of Concerned Scientists (UCS), an organization that 

was established in 1969 to protest the misuse of technology 

and that had recently turned its attention to nuclear power, 

received wide publicity. UCS took a considerably less 

optimistic view of ECCS reliability than that of the AEC. 

It sharply questioned the adequacy of the interim criteria, 

charging, among other things, that they were “operationally 

vague and meaningless.” Scientists at the AEC’s national 

laboratories, without endorsing the alarmist language that 

UCS used, shared some of the same reservations. As a result 

of the uncertainties about ECCSs and the interim criteria, 

the AEC decided to hold public hearings that it hoped would 

help resolve the technical issues. It wanted to prevent the 

ECCS question from becoming a major impediment to the 

licensing of individual plants.
37

Chapter 2

The AEC insisted that its critics had exaggerated the severity of the ECCS problem. The regulatory staff viewed the 

results of the failed semiscale tests as serious and took them 

into account when establishing the interim criteria. The regulatory staff also believed that the technical issues that the 

experiments raised would be resolved within a short period 

of time. It did not regard the tests as indications that existing 

designs were fundamentally flawed, and it emphasized the 

conservative engineering judgment it applied in evaluating 

plant applications. However, the ECCS controversy damaged the AEC’s credibility and played into the hands of 

its critics. Instead of frankly acknowledging the potential 

significance of the ECCS problem and taking time to fully 

evaluate the technical uncertainties, the AEC acted hastily 

to prevent the issue from undermining public confidence 

in reactor safety or causing licensing delays. Its actions 

gave credence to the allegations of its critics that it was so 

determined to promote nuclear power and develop the fast 

breeder reactor that it was inattentive to safety concerns. 

Thermal Pollution

By the time the ECCS issue hit the headlines, other questions about the environmental effects of nuclear power had 

eroded public support for the technology. The problem of industrial pollution and the deteriorating quality of the natural 

environment became increasingly urgent as a public policy 

issue during the 1960s. The increasing public and political 

concern about environmental protection, which occurred at 

a time when the demand for electricity was doubling every 

10 years or more, placed utilities in a quandary. An article in 

Fortune magazine stated, “Americans do not seem willing to 

let the utilities continue devouring...ever increasing quantities of water, air, and land. And yet clearly they also are 

not willing to contemplate doing without all the electricity 

they want. These two wishes are incompatible. That is the 

dilemma faced by the utilities.”
38

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

Utilities increasingly viewed nuclear power as the answer 

to that dilemma. Environmental concerns were a major 

incentive for the growth of the great bandwagon market, and 

nuclear power promised a means for meeting the demand 

for power without causing air pollution. Environmentalists 

recognized the benefits of nuclear power compared to fossil 

fuel, but they were more equivocal in their attitudes toward 

the technology than industry representatives were. Their 

ambivalence was perhaps best summarized by a statement 

from a leading environmental spokesman in 1967: “I think 

most conservationists may welcome the coming of nuclear 

plants, though we are sure they have their own parameters 

of difficulty.”

Officials of the AEC actively promoted the idea that nuclear 

power provided the answer to both the environmental crisis 

and the energy crisis. Seaborg was especially outspoken on 

this point. Although he acknowledged that nuclear power 

could have some adverse impacts on the environment, he 

insisted that its effects were much less harmful than those 

of fossil fuel. In comparison with coal, he once declared, 

Researchers from 

Argonne National 

Laboratory take 

measurements of the 

thermal discharge 

plume from the Big 

Rock Point Nuclear 

Power Plant on Lake 

Michigan.
39

Chapter 2

“There can be no doubt that nuclear power comes out looking like Mr. Clean.”

In the late 1960s, a major controversy over the effects of 

waste heat from nuclear plants on water quality, widely 

known as “thermal pollution,” undermined the view of 

nuclear power as beneficial to the environment relative to 

conventional fuels. Thermal pollution resulted from cooling 

the steam that drove the turbines to produce electricity in 

both fossil fuel and nuclear plants. The steam was condensed by the circulation of large amounts of water, and the 

cooling water was heated during the process, usually by 10 

to 20 degrees Fahrenheit, before being returned to the body 

of water from which it came. This problem was not unique 

to nuclear plants, but it was more acute in them largely because fossil fuel plants used steam heat more efficiently than 

nuclear plants did. The problem of thermal pollution created 

more anxiety than during the 1960s because of the growing number of plants, the larger size of those plants, and the 

increasing inclination of utilities to order nuclear units. 

Thermal pollution caused concern because it was potentially 

harmful to many species of fish. It could also disrupt the 

ecological balance in rivers and streams, allowing plants 

to thrive that made water look, taste, and smell unpleasant. Technical solutions to deal with thermal pollution were 

available, but they required extra costs in the construction 

and operation of steam-electric plants. For example, cooling 

towers of different designs or cooling ponds would greatly 

alleviate the release of waste heat to the source body of water. However, utilities resisted adding cooling apparatuses to 

the plants that they planned to build because of the expense 

and an appreciable loss of generating capacity. 

Advocates in the news media for stronger Federal action to 

protect the environment, Congress, and State and Federal 

agencies urged the AEC to require its licensees to guard 
40

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

against the effects of thermal pollution. The AEC refused on 

the grounds that it lacked the statutory authority to impose 

regulations on hazards other than radiation. It argued that 

the Atomic Energy Act of 1954 restricted its regulatory 

jurisdiction to radiological dangers, a view that the U.S. 

Department of Justice and Federal courts upheld. This argument did not placate the AEC’s critics, who accused it of 

ignoring a serious problem that nuclear plants exacerbated. 

Several members of Congress introduced legislation to grant 

the AEC authority over thermal pollution, but the agency 

opposed those measures unless fossil fuel plants were 

required to meet the same conditions. The AEC feared that 

nuclear power would be placed at a competitive disadvantage if plant owners had to provide cooling equipment that 

was not required for fossil-fuel-burning facilities.

The AEC came under increasing criticism for its position. 

The most prominent attack appeared in a Sports Illustrated 

article in January 1969. It assailed the AEC for failing to 

regulate against thermal pollution and attributed its inaction 

to a fear of the “financial investment that power companies 

would have to make...to stop nuclear plants from frying 

fish or cooking waterways wholesale.” The article was a 

distorted and exaggerated presentation, but it contributed 

to a growing perception that instead of being a solution to 

the dilemma of producing electricity without causing serious 

environmental damage, nuclear power was a part of 

the problem. 

Eventually, the controversy over thermal pollution died 

out. One reason was that Congress passed legislation that 

gave the AEC authority to regulate against thermal pollution and that applied to most fossil fuel plants as well. 

A more important reason was that utilities increasingly 

took action to curb the consequences of discharging waste 

heat. Although they initially resisted the calls for cooling 

equipment, they soon found that the costs of responding to 
41

Chapter 2

litigation, enduring postponements in the construction or 

operation of new plants, or suffering a loss of public esteem 

were less tolerable than those of building cooling towers 

or ponds. By 1971, most nuclear plants being built on, or 

planned for, inland waterways (where the problem was most 

acute) included cooling systems. However, the legacy of the 

thermal pollution debate lingered on. This concern undermined confidence in the AEC and awakened public doubts 

about the environmental impact of nuclear power. The 

thermal pollution debate played a vital role in transforming 

the initial ambivalence that environmentalists had demonstrated toward the technology into strong and vocal opposition. As a result of the thermal pollution issue, the AEC and 

the nuclear industry frequently found themselves included 

among the ranks of enemies of the environment.

The Radiation Debate

The thermal pollution question was the first, but 

not the only, debate over the effects of nuclear power that 

aroused widespread public concern in the late 1960s and 

early 1970s. A major controversy that arose over the effects 

of low-level radiation from the routine operation of nuclear 

plants also fed fears about the expanding use of the technology. Drawing on the recommendations of NCRP, the 

AEC had established limits for public exposure to radiation 

from nuclear plants of 0.5 rem per year for individuals. To 

determine the allowable release of radioactive effluents 

from a plant, it assumed that a person stood outdoors at the 

boundary of the facility 24 hours a day, 365 days a year. 

Licensees generally met the requirements easily. In 1968, 

for example, releases from most plants measured less than 

3 percent of the permissible levels for liquid effluents and 

less than 1 percent for gaseous effluents. The conservative 

assumptions of the AEC and the performance of operating plants did not prevent criticism of the AEC’s radiation 

standards. A number of observers suggested that the AEC’s 
42

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

regulations were insufficiently rigorous and should be 

substantially revised because of the uncertainties about the 

effects of low-level radiation. This suggestion first emerged 

as a widely publicized issue when the State of Minnesota, responding to questions raised by environmentalists, 

stipulated in May 1969 that a plant under construction must 

restrict its radioactive effluents to a level of about 3 percent 

of that allowed by the AEC.

The adequacy of the AEC’s radiation standards became even 

more contentious in the fall of 1969, when two prominent 

scientists, John W. Gofman and Arthur R. Tamplin, suggested that if everyone in the United States received the 

permissible population dose of radiation, it would cause 

17,000 (later revised to 32,000) additional cases of cancer 

annually. Gofman and Tamplin worked at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, which was funded by the AEC; 

their position as insiders therefore gave their claims special 

credibility. They initially proposed that the AEC lower its 

limits by a factor of 10 and later urged that it require a zero 

release of radioactivity.

Gofman and Tamplin not only argued that the existing 

standards of the AEC and other radiation protection organizations were inadequate but also challenged the prevailing 

consensus that the benefits of nuclear power were worth 

the risks. Gofman was especially harsh in his analysis; he 

insisted that “the AEC is stating [in its radiation protection regulations] that there is a risk and their hope that the 

benefits outweigh the number of deaths.” He added, “This is 

legalized murder, the only question is how many murders.” 

The AEC denied Gofman’s and Tamplin’s assertions on 

the grounds that they had extrapolated from high doses to 

estimate the hazards of low-level exposure and that it was 

impossible for the entire Nation to receive the levels of radiation that applied at plant boundaries. Most authorities in 
43

Chapter 2

the field of radiation protection agreed with the AEC that the 

risks of effluents from nuclear power were far smaller than 

those maintained by Gofman and Tamplin. Nevertheless, in 

an effort to provide an extra measure of protection, reassure 

the public, and undercut the appeal of its critics, the AEC 

issued for public comment in June 1971 new “design objectives” for nuclear plants that would, in effect, reduce the 

permissible levels of effluents by a factor of about 100. This 

action elicited protests from industry representatives and 

from radiation protection professionals, but it did not impress many critics who expressed doubt that the AEC would 

enforce the new guidelines. The controversy focused public 

attention, once again, on the effects of low-level radiation, 

but it did little to clarify a complex and ambiguous issue.

The National Environmental Policy Act and 

Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Power Plant

In addition to the objections that its positions on thermal 

pollution and radiation standards stirred, the AEC provoked 

sharp criticism for its response to the National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA). The law, passed by Congress 

in December 1969 and signed by President Nixon on 

January 1, 1970, required Federal agencies to consider the 

environmental impact of their activities. The measure was 

in many ways vague and confusing, and it gave Federal 

agencies broad discretion in deciding how to carry out this 

mandate. The AEC acted promptly to comply with NEPA, 

but its procedures for doing so brought protests from 

environmentalists. The agency took a narrow view of its 

responsibilities under NEPA. In a proposed regulation that 

the agency issued in December 1970, it included, for the 

first time, nonradiological issues in its regulatory jurisdiction. However, the AEC also stipulated that it intended to 

rely on the environmental assessments of other Federal and 

State agencies (rather than conducting its own), it agreed to 

consider environmental issues in licensing board hearings 
44

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

only if a party to the proceeding raised these issues, and it 

postponed any review of NEPA issues in licensing cases 

until March 1971. 

The AEC declined to take an expansive view of its responsibilities under NEPA for several reasons. One was the 

conviction that the routine operation of nuclear plants was 

not a serious threat to the environment and, indeed, was 

beneficial compared to burning fossil fuels. Other legislation covered the major products of nuclear power generation 

that affected the environment, radiation releases and thermal 

discharges. Furthermore, implementation of NEPA might 

divert the AEC’s limited human resources from tasks that 

were more central to its mission. The regulatory staff was 

“all but overwhelmed” by the flood of reactor applications 

and did not relish the idea of having to spend large amounts 

of time on environmental reviews. Most importantly, the 

AEC feared that weighing environmental issues other than 

radiation and thermal releases would cause unwarranted 

delays in licensing plants. The time required for evaluating 

applications was already increasing, and the AEC worried 

that NEPA could force a “quantum leap” in the length of the 

process. It sought to strike a balance between environmental 

concerns and the need for electrical power in framing 

its regulations.

Environmentalists complained that the AEC had failed to 

fulfill the purposes of NEPA and took the agency to Federal court over the application of the AEC’s regulations to 

the Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Power Plant, then under construction on the Chesapeake Bay in rural Maryland. On 

July 23, 1971, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of 

Columbia handed down a ruling that was a crushing defeat 

for the AEC. The court sternly rebuked the agency in its 

most widely quoted statement: “We believe that the Commission’s crabbed interpretation of NEPA makes a mockery 

of the Act.” The Calvert Cliffs decision was, in the words of 
45

Chapter 2

Nucleonics Week, a “stunning body blow” to the AEC and 

the nuclear industry. 

The Calvert Cliffs decision was another in a series of 

setbacks for the AEC and nuclear power. It was apparent 

by the summer of 1971 that public distrust of the AEC was 

growing and support for nuclear power was declining. The 

cumulative effect of controversies over ECCS, thermal pollution, radiation standards, NEPA, and other issues eroded 

public confidence in the AEC’s commitment to safety and 

raised doubts about the benefits of nuclear power. Antinuclear activists capitalized on growing uneasiness about the 

health and environmental effects of the technology. Some of 

the critics were well informed and responsible in their arguments, but others were one sided and inaccurate. Attempts 

by nuclear proponents to correct a plethora of misleading 

and exaggerated stories, advertisements, speeches, and other 

presentations inevitably failed to win as much attention or 

produce the same effect. To make matters worse for the 

AEC, it suffered from the general disillusionment with the 

Government, established institutions, and science that prevailed by the late 1960s, largely as a result of the Vietnam 

war. One college student summarized the situation after 

listening to a debate between Victor Bond, a radiation expert 

from Brookhaven National Laboratory, and a vocal AEC 

critic: “Dr. Bond sounds good, but we can’t believe him. He 

works for the government.”

By the summer of 1971, the AEC was an embattled agency, 

largely, though not exclusively, because of regulatory issues. 

Seaborg, after serving as chairman for 10 years, resigned his 

post in July 1971, and President Nixon appointed James R. 

Schlesinger, Assistant Director of the Office of Management 

and Budget, to take his place. Schlesinger was determined to 

make the AEC more responsive to environmental concerns 

and to improve its tarnished public image. As an important 

first step in those efforts, he and William O. Doub, who took 
46

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

a seat on the Commission at the same time that Schlesinger 

assumed the chairmanship, concluded that the AEC should 

not appeal the Calvert Cliffs ruling, and, after considering 

the alternatives, their colleagues agreed. The AEC announced its decision on August 26, 1971.

The AEC’s response to the Calvert Cliffs decision brought 

a storm of protests from utilities that feared long delays 

in the licensing of plants that were nearly ready for operation. Schlesinger explained the AEC’s new position in a 

speech he delivered to a meeting of industrial groups in Bal 

Harbour, FL, on October 20, 1971. He told his audience 

that although the long-term outlook for nuclear power appeared “bullish,” the pace of development depended on two 

variables: “first, the provision of a safe, reliable product; 

second, achievement of public confidence in that product.” 

Schlesinger declared that the AEC’s policy of promoting 

and protecting the industry had been justified to help nuclear 

power get started, but because the industry was “rapidly 

approaching mature growth,” the AEC must redefine its 

responsibilities. “You should not expect the AEC,” he 

announced, “to fight the industry’s political, social, and 

commercial battles.” He added that the agency’s role was 

“primarily to perform as a referee serving the public interest.” The message that Schlesinger’s speech conveyed was 

unprecedented; it proclaimed a sharp break with the AEC’s 

history and a new direction in the agency’s approach to its 

regulatory duties. 

Schlesinger’s efforts to narrow the divisions between 

nuclear proponents and critics and to recover the AEC’s 

regulatory credibility produced, at best, mixed results. Many 

environmentalists were pleased with the AEC’s acceptance 

of the Calvert Cliffs ruling and with Schlesinger’s Bal Harbour speech. Their guarded optimism about Schlesinger’s 

attitudes was perhaps best summarized by the title of an 

article about him in National Wildlife magazine: “There’s 
47

Chapter 2

a Bird Watcher Running the Atomic Energy Commission.” 

However, major differences between the AEC and environmentalists remained; many of the same issues that had 

aroused concern before Schlesinger’s arrival continued to 

generate controversy. 

New Controversies and the End of the Atomic 

Energy Commission

The reliability of ECCSs was an issue that continued to 

generate controversy. In light of the objections to the interim 

acceptance criteria for ECCSs that the AEC had published in 

June 1971, the agency decided to hold a rulemaking hearing 

on the issue that would apply to all licensing cases. It hoped 

that this would avoid repeating the same procedures and deliberating over the same questions in case-by-case hearings 

and that generic hearings would provide a means to resolve 

issues common to all plants. The ECCS hearings got underway in early 1972 and amounted to 135 days over a period 

of one-and-a-half years. When the hearings ended, the 

transcripts of the proceedings filled more than 22,000 pages. 

The ECCS hearings led to a final rule that made some small 

but important revisions in the interim criteria. They also produced acrimonious testimony and front-page headlines that 

often reflected unfavorably on the AEC’s safety programs, 

revealed divisions among its own experts about the value of 

the interim criteria, and further damaged its credibility.

Another issue that undermined confidence in the AEC in the 

early 1970s was its approach to high-level radioactive waste 

disposal. The growth of the nuclear power industry made 

the safe disposal of intensely radioactive waste materials an 

increasingly urgent matter. The AEC had investigated the 

means of dealing with reactor wastes for years, but it had 

not found a solution to the problem. As early as 1957, a scientific consensus had concluded that deep underground salt 

deposits were the best repositories for long-lived and highly 
48

The Nuclear Power Debate, 1963–1975

radioactive wastes. In 1970, in response to increasing expressions of concern about the lack of a policy for high-level 

waste disposal from scientific authorities, members of Congress, and the press, the AEC announced plans to develop 

a permanent repository for nuclear waste in an abandoned 

salt mine near Lyons, KS. It aired its plans without conducting thorough geologic and hydrologic investigations, and 

the suitability of the site was soon challenged by the State 

geologist of Kansas and other scientists. The uncertainties 

about the site generated a bitter dispute between the AEC on 

one side and members of Congress and State officials from 

Kansas on the other. The dispute ended in 1972 in great 

embarrassment for the AEC when the concerns of those who 

opposed the Lyons, KS, location proved to be well founded.

In addition to debates over the potential failure of ECCSs 

and high-level waste disposal, questions concerning reactor 

design and safety, quality assurance (QA), the probability 

of a major reactor accident, and other issues fueled the 

controversy over nuclear power. The number of contested 

hearings for plant licenses steadily grew. The ongoing controversy frustrated Schlesinger’s hopes of increasing public 

confidence in the AEC and of defusing the conflicts between 

opposing views. By highlighting the issues on which the 

AEC’s performance was suspect, the agency also obscured 

the requirements that its regulatory staff imposed over the 

protests and against the wishes of the nuclear industry, the 

high standards that it demanded in the design and construction of nuclear plants, and the conservative assumptions that 

it applied in evaluating plant applications and formulating 

radiation protection regulations.

As the nuclear power debate continued, the AEC came 

under increasing attacks for its dual responsibilities for developing and regulating the technology. This issue became 

a major argument that nuclear critics cited in their indictments of the AEC. One critic said that it was “like letting 
49

Chapter 2

the fox guard the henhouse.” The possibility of creating 

separate agencies to promote and to regulate the civilian 

uses of nuclear energy had arisen within a short time after 

passage of the Atomic Energy Act of 1954. However, in the 

early stages of nuclear development, this possibility had 

seemed premature and unwarranted. The idea of creating 

separate agencies gained greater support as both industry 

concerns and antinuclear sentiment grew, and it took on 

greater urgency after the Arab oil embargo and the energy 

crisis of 1973–1974. One of President Nixon’s responses to 

the energy crisis was to ask Congress to create a new agency 

that could focus on, and presumably speed up, the licensing 

of nuclear plants. After much debate, Congress divided the 

AEC into the U.S. Energy Research and Development Administration and the U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission 

(NRC) in legislation that it passed in 1974. The Energy Reorganization Act of 1974, coupled with the Atomic Energy 

Act of 1954, constituted the statutory basis for the NRC. 

The new agency inherited a mixed legacy from its predecessor, marked both by 20 years of conscientious regulation 

and by unresolved safety questions, substantial antinuclear 

activism, and growing public doubts about nuclear power.

The U.S. Nuclear

Regulatory

Commission and

Three Mile Island

Chapter Three

51

Chapter 3

The NRC began its operations as a separate agency in January 1975. In many ways, it carried on the legacy inherited 

from the AEC. It performed the same licensing and rulemaking functions that the regulatory staff had discharged for 

two decades. It also assumed some new administrative and 

regulatory duties. The NRC, unlike the AEC’s regulatory 

staff, was the final arbiter of regulatory issues; its judgment 

on safety questions was less susceptible to being overridden 

by developmental priorities. This did not mean that the NRC 

acted without regard to industry concerns or that its officials 

always agreed on policy matters, but it did mean that the 

agency’s statutory mandate was clearly focused on ensuring 

the safety of nuclear power.

The NRC devoted a great deal of attention during its first 

few months to organizational tasks at the same time that 

it carried out its regulatory responsibilities. It deliberated 

over a number of pressing problems that it inherited from 

the AEC or that arose shortly after its establishment. One 

issue that received particular attention was the safeguarding of nuclear materials. The term “safeguards” applied to 

the prevention of theft, loss, or diversion of nuclear fuel 

or other materials or the sabotage of nuclear plants. This 

question took on greatly increased importance and visibility 

in the early 1970s because of growing apprehension about 

the activities and intentions of terrorist groups. There was a 

wave of terrorist bombings, assassinations, hijackings, and 

murders at that time, perhaps the most shocking of which 

was the murder of Israeli athletes at the 1972 Olympics.

The increase in such attacks around the world raised new 

concerns that terrorists would be able to build an atomic 

bomb, which was underscored by the well-publicized warnings of some nuclear experts that making a bomb was not 

terribly difficult for anyone who obtained the necessary 

materials. As a result, the AEC, and, after its abolition, the 

NRC, substantially strengthened regulatory requirements for 
52

The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission and

Three Mile Island

the transportation of nuclear materials and for nuclear plant 

security. The NRC also devoted considerable attention to the 

export of nuclear materials to foreign countries. The United 

States was by far the leading supplier of nuclear fuel and 

other materials for the production of nuclear power abroad, 

and the NRC exercised important responsibilities for ensuring that nuclear exports did not encourage the proliferation 

of nuclear weapons or make them available to terrorists. 

Despite the prominence of safeguards problems, the central 

issue for the NRC at the time of its creation remained reactor safety. Two events occurred in the early months of the 

NRC’s existence that commanded the particular attention of 

the agency and the public. The first event was a major fire 

at the Tennessee Valley Authority’s Browns Ferry Nuclear 

Plant near Decatur, AL, in March 1975. In the process of 

looking for air leaks in an area containing trays of electrical cables that operated the plant’s control room and safety 

systems, a technician set off a fire. He used a lighted candle 

to conduct the search, and the open flame ignited the insulation around the cables. The fire raged for over 7 hours and 

nearly disabled the safety equipment of one of the two affected units. The accident was a blow to the public image of 

nuclear power and the recently established NRC. It focused 

new attention on preventing fires that threaten plant safety 

and on the possibility of “common-mode failures” in which 

a single breakdown could initiate a chain of events that 

incapacitated even the redundant safety features.

The second source of unusually extensive discussion and 

considerable controversy shortly after the NRC began 

operations was the publication of the final version of the 

“Reactor Safety Study” that the AEC had commissioned in 

1972. The purpose of the study was to estimate the probability of a severe reactor accident—an issue that the AEC had 

never found a satisfactory means of addressing. To direct the 

study, the AEC had recruited Norman C. Rasmussen, a pro-
53

Chapter 3

fessor of nuclear engineering at the Massachusetts Institute 

of Technology (MIT). Rasmussen, assisted by AEC staff 

members, applied new methodologies and sophisticated 

“fault-tree analyses” to project the likelihood of a serious 

nuclear accident. The final Rasmussen report, released in 

October 1975, concluded that risks from nuclear power were 

very small in comparison to other risks from, for example, 

fires, explosions, toxic chemical spills, dam failures, airplane crashes, earthquakes, tornadoes, and hurricanes.

Although the Rasmussen report was hailed as a pioneering 

effort that enlightened a complex subject, it also drew criticism from both inside and outside the NRC. Some authorities suggested that the study failed to account for the many 

paths that could lead to major accidents. Others complained 

that the data in the report did not support its executive 

summary’s conclusions about the relative risks of nuclear 

power. After considering the arguments on both sides of the 

issue, the Commission issued a policy statement in January 1979 that withdrew its full endorsement of the study’s 

executive summary.

The Three Mile Island Accident

Within a short time, the discussion of severe nuclear accidents ceased to be strictly a matter of theoretical projections. On March 28, 1979, an accident at the Three Mile 

Island Nuclear Station (TMI), Unit 2, near Harrisburg, PA, 

made the issue starkly and alarmingly real. As a result of a 

series of mechanical failures and human errors, the accident 

(researchers later determined) uncovered the reactor’s core 

and melted about half of it. The immediate cause of the accident was a pressure relief valve that stuck open and allowed 

large volumes of reactor coolant to escape from the core. 

The control room instrument panel did not provide a clear 

picture of what was happening in the reactor, and, partly 

as a result, the plant’s operators failed to pick up the signs 

of a loss-of-coolant accident. Although the ECCSs began 
54

The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission and

Three Mile Island

to work according to design, the operating crew decided 

to reduce the flow from them to a trickle. By the time that 

experts realized that the plant had undergone a loss-of-coolant accident and flooded the core, the reactor had suffered 

irreparable damage.

The credibility of the nuclear industry and the NRC fared almost as badly. Uncertainty about the causes of the problem, 

confusion about how to deal with it, conflicting information 

from Government and industry experts, and contradictory 

appraisals about the level of danger in the days following 

the accident fed public fears and fostered a deepening perception of a technology that was out of control. The greatest 

source of concern was a hydrogen bubble that formed in 

the pressure vessel, the large container that held the reactor 

core. At first, experts feared that the bubble could inhibit efforts to cool the core and bring it to a safe-shutdown condition. However, another issue soon arose. Joseph M. Hendrie, 

Chairman of the NRC, began to worry that over time the 

bubble might become flammable or even explosive. In a 

Three Mile Island, 

looking southeast. 

The accident occurred 

in the reactor at the 

right of the photograph.
55

Chapter 3

worst case scenario, a burn or explosion could rupture the 

pressure vessel and increase by indeterminate but uncomfortable proportions the chances of a breach of containment 

and a massive release of radiation to the environment.

Hendrie immediately instructed the NRC staff to explore 

the possibility that the bubble could reach a flammable or 

explosive condition. News of the bubble created a great deal 

of apprehension among the population who lived near the 

plant, and thousands of people evacuated their homes as 

headlines warned that a “hydrogen explosion” could occur. 

They joined those who had left the area the previous day in 

response to a voluntary advisory evacuation for pregnant 

women and preschool-aged children that Governor Richard 

Thornburgh had issued. He had acted in consultation with 

the NRC in response to the existing uncertainties about 

the level of danger from the accident. Over a 5-day period, 

about 144,000 people evacuated the area with remarkable 

calmness and responsibility.

While the NRC investigated the bubble problem, Thornburgh called a late-night press conference. Harold R. Denton, 

the NRC’s chief staff official at the site, explained that the 

bubble could conceivably be a hazard in a matter of days but 

that it did not pose an immediate threat. Denton’s assurances 

curbed the sense of alarm among the local population that 

the plant might suddenly explode. The following day, after 

a highly publicized tour of the plant by President Jimmy 

Carter, the NRC determined that a lack of oxygen in the pressure vessel prevented the bubble from reaching a flammable 

or explosive state. This conclusion, along with the gradual 

reduction in the size of the bubble, ended the acute phase of 

the TMI crisis. However, many serious questions about the 

safety of nuclear power remained to be addressed.

In some ways, the TMI accident produced reassuring, or at 

least encouraging, information for reactor experts about the 
56

The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission and

Three Mile Island

design and operation of the safety systems in a large nuclear 

plant. Despite the substantial degree of core melting that occurred, containment was not breached. From all indications, 

the amount of radioactivity released into the environment as 

a result of the accident was very low. For example, less than 

20 curies of the 66 million curies of iodine131 in the reactor 

at the time of the accident escaped from the plant. Careful 

epidemiological studies of the population in the region surrounding the plant revealed no increase in the incidence of 

cancer over a period of two decades that could be attributed 

to the accident.

The favorable findings about the effects of the accident 

were overshadowed by a series of unsettling disclosures of 

problems that demanded immediate correction. The TMI accident focused attention on possible causes of accidents that 

the AEC/NRC and the nuclear industry had not considered 

extensively. Their working assumption had been that the 

most likely cause of a loss-of-coolant accident was a break 

in a large pipe that fed coolant to the core. However, the 

destruction of the core at TMI had not resulted from a large 

pipe break but instead from a relatively minor mechanical 

failure that operator errors had drastically compounded.

Perhaps the most distressing revelation of TMI was that 

an accident so severe could occur at all. Neither the AEC/

NRC nor the industry had ever claimed that a major reactor 

accident was impossible despite the multiple and redundant 

safety features that are built into nuclear plants. However, 

they had regarded it as highly unlikely, to the point of being 

nearly incredible. The TMI accident demonstrated graphically that serious consequences could arise from unanticipated events. This enhanced the credibility of nuclear critics 

who had argued for years that no facility as complex as a 

nuclear plant could be made foolproof. Public opinion polls 

taken after the TMI accident showed a significant erosion 

in support for nuclear power. One survey found that for the 
57

Chapter 3

first time, the number of respondents who opposed building 

more nuclear units exceeded those who favored new plants. 

However, the polls indicated that the public did not want to 

abandon nuclear power or close existing plants.

The NRC Response to the Accident at 

Three Mile Island

The NRC responded to TMI by reexamining the adequacy 

of its safety requirements and by imposing new regulations 

to correct deficiencies. It placed much greater emphasis on 

“human factors” in plant performance in an effort to avoid 

a repeat of the operator errors that had exacerbated the accident. The agency developed more stringent requirements 

for operator training, testing, and licensing. In cooperation 

with industry groups, it promoted the increased use of reactor simulators and the careful assessment of control rooms 

and instrumentation. In addition, the agency expanded its 

resident inspector program to station at least two of its 

inspectors at each plant site.

The NRC devoted greater attention to other problems that 

had received limited consideration before the TMI accident. These problems included the possible effects of small 

failures that could lead to major consequences, such as those 

that happened at TMI. The agency sponsored a series of 

studies on the ways in which “small breaks and transients” 

could threaten plant safety. A second area of NRC focus was 

the evaluation of operational data from licensees. It established a new office to systematically review information 

from, and the performance of, operating plants. This action 

reflected the belated recognition that malfunctions similar to 

those at TMI had occurred at other plants, but the information had never been assimilated or disseminated.

 The NRC undertook other initiatives as a result of TMI. It 

decided to review radiation protection procedures at operating plants to assess their adequacy and to look for ways to 
58

The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission and

Three Mile Island

improve existing regulations. It expanded research programs 

on problems that TMI had highlighted, including fuel damage, fission-product release, and hydrogen generation and 

control. In light of the confusion and uncertainty over the 

evacuation of the areas surrounding TMI during the accident, the NRC also sought to upgrade emergency preparedness and planning. Those and other steps that it undertook in 

the wake of the accident were intended to reduce the likelihood of a major accident and, in the event that one occurred, 

to enhance the ability of the NRC, the utility, and the public 

to cope with it.

Chernobyl 

While the NRC was still deliberating over and revising its 

requirements in the aftermath of TMI, another event shook 

the industry and further undercut public support for nuclear 

power. This time, the NRC was a distant though interested 

observer rather than a direct participant. On April 26, 1986, 

Unit 4 of the nuclear power station at Chernobyl in the 

U.S.S.R. underwent a violent explosion that destroyed the 

reactor and blew the top off it, spewing massive amounts of 

radioactivity into the environment. The accident occurred 

during a test in which operators had turned off the plant’s 

safety systems and then lost control of the reactivity in the 

reactor. Without emergency cooling or a containment building to stop or at least slow the escape of radiation, the areas 

around the plant quickly became seriously contaminated, 

and a radioactive plume spread far into other parts of the 

U.S.S.R. and Europe. Although the radiation did not pose 

a threat to the United States, one measure of its intensity in 

the U.S.S.R. was that the levels of iodine-131 around TMI 

were three times as high after the Chernobyl accident than 

they had been after the TMI accident.

The design of the Chernobyl reactor was entirely different 

than that of U.S. plants, and the series of operator blunders 

that led to the accident defied belief. Supporters of nuclear 
59

Chapter 3

power emphasized that a Chernobyl-type accident could 

not occur in commercial plants in the United States (or 

other nations that used U.S. designs) and that U.S. reactors featured safety systems and containment to prevent the 

release of radioactivity. However, nuclear critics pointed to 

Chernobyl as the prime example of the hazards of nuclear 

power. A representative of UCS remarked, “The accident 

at Chernobyl makes it clear. Nuclear power is inherently 

dangerous.” A popular slogan that quickly appeared on the 

placards of European environmentalists was “Chernobyl Is 

Everywhere.” The Chernobyl tragedy was a major setback 

for nuclear proponents in their hope to win public support 

for the technology and to spur orders for new reactors. 

For example, a poll conducted in May 1986 found that 

78 percent of respondents opposed the construction of more 

nuclear plants in the United States. Utilities had not ordered 

any new plants since 1978, and the number of cancellations 

for planned units was growing. “We’re in trouble,” conceded a spokesman for the Atomic Industrial Forum, Inc. “If the 

calls I have received from people in the industry are a good 

indication, they are all very worried.”

Licensing of New Plants and 

Emergency Planning

The Chernobyl accident added a new source of concern to 

longstanding controversies over the licensing of several 

reactors in the United States. In the aftermath of the TMI 

accident, the NRC had suspended the granting of operating 

licenses for plants that were in the pipeline. 

This “licensing pause” for fuel loading and low-power testing ended in February 1980. In August 1980, the NRC issued 

the first full-power operating license (to North Anna Power 

Station, Unit 2, in Virginia) since the TMI accident. In the 

following 9 years, it granted full-power licenses to over 40 

other reactors, most of which had received construction per-
60

The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission and

Three Mile Island

mits in the mid1970s. In 1985, it authorized the undamaged 

TMI, Unit 1, which had been shut down for refueling at the 

time of the accident at TMI, Unit 2, to resume operation. 

Although many of the licensing actions aroused little opposition, others triggered major controversies. The two licensing 

cases that precipitated what were perhaps the most bitter, 

protracted, and widely publicized debates were Seabrook 

Nuclear Power Plant in New Hampshire and Shoreham 

Nuclear Power Plant on Long Island, NY. The key, although 

hardly the sole, issue in both cases was emergency planning. 

The TMI accident had vividly demonstrated the deficiencies in existing procedures for coping with an offsite nuclear 

emergency. The lack of effective preparation had produced 

confusion and uncertainty among decisionmakers and among 

members of the public faced with the prospect of exposure 

to radiation releases from the plant. After the accident, the 

NRC, prodded by Congress to improve emergency planning, 

adopted a new rule on emergency planning. It required each 

nuclear utility to come up with a plan for evacuating the 

population within a 10mile radius of its plant(s) in the event 

of a reactor accident, although protective action was likely 

to be necessary only in a part of the “emergency planning 

zone.” The rule applied to plants in operation and under construction. It called for plant owners to work with State and 

local police, fire, and civil defense authorities to put together 

an emergency plan that the NRC and the Federal Emergency 

Management Agency would test and evaluate.

 The NRC lacked the authority to force State and local 

governments to participate in emergency preparedness procedures, and it had little choice but to frame its regulations 

on the assumption that they would cooperate. The agency 

recognized that State or local governments, if they chose to, 

could try to prevent the operation of nuclear plants by refusing to work with Federal agencies to improve emergency 

planning. That was precisely what the States of New York 
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Chapter 3

and Massachusetts sought to do in the cases of Shoreham 

and Seabrook. In New York, Governor Mario M. Cuomo 

and other state officials claimed that it would be impossible 

to evacuate Long Island if Shoreham suffered a major accident. Although plant proponents pointed out that emergency 

plans did not require the evacuation of all of Long Island 

if a serious accident occurred, the State refused to join in 

emergency planning procedures or drills. The NRC granted 

Shoreham a low-power operating license, but the State 

and the utility, Long Island Lighting Company, eventually 

reached a settlement in which the company agreed not to 

operate the plant in return for concessions from the State.

A similar issue arose at Seabrook, although the outcome was 

different. The plant is located in the State of New Hampshire, 

but the 10mile emergency planning zone extended across 

the State line into Massachusetts. By the time that construction of the plant was completed, Massachusetts Governor 

Michael S. Dukakis, largely as a result of Chernobyl, had 

decided that he would not cooperate with emergency planning efforts for Seabrook. New Hampshire officials worked 

with Federal agencies to prepare an emergency plan, but 

Massachusetts refused to cooperate, arguing that crowded 

beaches near the Seabrook plant could not be evacuated in 

Opponents of a 

full-power license 

for Seabrook express 

their views at NRC 

headquarters in 

Rockville, Maryland, 

1990.
62

The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission and

Three Mile Island

the event of an accident. As a result of New York’s and Massachusetts’ positions on Shoreham and Seabrook, the NRC 

adopted a “realism rule” in 1988 that was grounded on the 

premise that in an actual emergency, State and local governments would make every effort to protect public health and 

safety. Therefore, in cases in which State or local officials 

declined to participate in emergency planning, the NRC and 

the Federal Emergency Management Agency would review 

and evaluate plans developed by the utility. On that basis, 

the NRC issued an operating license for the Seabrook plant. 

The arguments that raged over emergency planning and other 

issues at Shoreham and Seabrook attracted a great deal of attention, spawned heated controversy, and raised anew an old 

question about the relative authority of Federal, State, and 

local governments in licensing and regulating nuclear plants.

The lengthy and laborious licensing procedures that applicants had to undergo in the cases of Shoreham (which had 

received a construction permit in 1973), Seabrook (which 

had received a construction permit in 1977), and other reactors stirred new interest in simplifying and streamlining the 

regulatory process. It seemed apparent that the complexity of 

the licensing process was a major deterrent to utilities who 

might consider building nuclear plants. By the late 1980s, 

the nuclear option looked more appealing to some observers, including some environmentalists, because of growing 

concern about the consequences of burning fossil fuel, especially acid rain and global warming. Furthermore, nuclear 

vendors were advancing new designs for plants that greatly 

reduced the chances of TMI-type and other severe accidents. 

One way that the NRC proposed to facilitate licensing procedures was to replace the traditional two-step process with 

a one-step system to ease the burden on applicants. However, this raised a vitally important question: What level of 

detail would the NRC require in applications for advanced 

plants in order to satisfy its concerns about their safety? The 
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Chapter 3

agency had never required the detailed technical information 

in construction permit proposals that it expected in operating license applications. However, the NRC was uncertain 

as to how much data it would need in this one-step licensing 

process to evaluate and certify safety designs. After long 

discussions that reflected differing views among the Commissioners, the NRC staff, and nuclear vendors, the agency 

reached a decision on what constituted an “essentially complete design.” It established a “graded approach” in which 

the level of detail that an applicant would be required to 

submit varied according to the relationship of the structures, 

systems, and components to plant safety. The objective of 

the NRC’s action was to ensure safety while providing flexibility for the development of new designs.

Radiation Standards

While the NRC was deliberating over a number of new 

regulatory procedures and problems, it was also reviewing 

some old issues. The most prominent of those issues was radiation standards. The NRC had begun work on revising its 

radiation protection regulations in the aftermath of the TMI 

accident. Although the AEC had issued “design objectives” 

that in effect reduced the permissible levels of radioactive 

effluents from nuclear plants in the 1970s, the basic regulations for occupational and population exposure had remained unchanged since 1961 (an average of 5 rem per year 

for radiation workers and 0.5 rem annually for individuals 

in the general population). Based on new recommendations 

by NCRP and ICRP and on new research findings, the NRC 

tightened its regulations in several areas, the most prominent 

of which was to restrict population exposure to 100 millirem 

per year (rather than 500 millirem per year). 

Despite new scientific information and epidemiological 

studies, the health effects of low-level radiation remained 

a source of uncertainty and controversy. Some studies 

provided results that were reassuring about the hazards of 
64

The U.S. Nuclear Regulatory Commission and

Three Mile Island

radiation emissions from nuclear plants. For example, a major survey conducted by the National Cancer Institute found 

no increased risk of cancer in 107 counties in the United 

States located near 62 nuclear power plants. However, other 

evidence was more disquieting, such as a cluster of cancer 

cases near the Pilgrim Nuclear Power Station in Massachusetts and a high incidence of leukemia in children around 

the Sellafield reprocessing plant in Great Britain.

None of the studies on the effects of low-level radiation 

were, or claimed to be, definitive. The subject continued 

to be a source of interest to, and debate among, scientists. 

It also continued to be a source of considerable anxiety to 

the public. The most graphic evidence of public apprehension about radiation was the public’s reaction to the NRC’s 

announcement of a new policy on radiation levels that were 

“below regulatory concern” (BRC). In June 1990, the NRC 

published a policy statement outlining its plans to establish 

rules and procedures by which small quantities of low-level 

radioactive materials could be exempt from regulatory 

controls. The agency proposed that if radioactive materials did not expose individuals to more than 1 millirem per 

year or a population group to more than 1,000 personrem 

per year, they could be eligible for the exemption. However, 

the NRC would not grant this exemption automatically; it 

would consider requests for exemptions for sites that met the 

dose criteria through its rulemaking or licensing processes. 

It intended that the BRC policy would apply to consumer 

products, landfills, and other sources of very low levels of 

radiation. The NRC explained that the BRC policy would enable it to devote more time and resources to major regulatory 

issues and thereby better protect public health and safety.

The NRC’s announcement of its intentions on the BRC 

policy was greeted with a firestorm of protest from the 

public, Congress, the news media, and antinuclear activists. 

Some critics suggested that the agency was defaulting on its 
65

Chapter 3

responsibility for public health and safety and that BRC policy would allow the nuclear industry to discard dangerously 

radioactive wastes in public trash dumps. One antinuclear 

group alleged that it was “a trade-off of people’s lives in 

favor of the financial interests of the nuclear industry.” In 

public meetings that the NRC held to explain BRC, aroused 

citizens called repeatedly for the resignation of the Commissioners or their indictment on criminal charges. Eventually, 

the Commission decided to defer any action on the BRC 

issue. The outcry over the BRC policy underscored the difficulty of even attempting to sponsor a calm and reasoned 

discussion on the subject of radiation hazards.

The uproar over the BRC policy was one of several indications of how the regulatory environment had changed 

since the passage of the Atomic Energy Act of 1954 made 

the development of nuclear power for electrical generation 

possible. A public that had welcomed the growth of nuclear 

power in the 1950s had become skeptical of the technology 

and suspicious of those responsible for its safety. Nuclear 

plants had become larger, more complicated, and more costly to build. Yankee Rowe Nuclear Power Station in Massachusetts, the longest running nuclear plant until its closure 

in 1992, had a capacity of 175 MWe, and its construction 

cost was about $39 million. For example, Seabrook by comparison had a capacity of 1,150 MWe and cost over $6 billion to build. The length and complexity of the licensing 

process had grown commensurately. The owners of Yankee 

Rowe applied for a construction permit in 1956 and received 

an operating license in 1960 without a murmur of protest. 

Seabrook’s owners applied for a construction permit in 1973 

and received an operating license in 1990 after long legal 

proceedings and many angry demonstrations. The contrasts 

between Yankee Rowe and Seabrook resulted from a series 

of interrelated technological, administrative, and political 

developments that shaped the history of nuclear regulation.

Chapter Four

New Issues,

New Approaches

67

Chapter 4

The focus of the NRC’s activities gradually shifted away 

from the licensing of new plants to overseeing the safety 

of operating plants. Because it received no applications for 

construction permits after 1978 and had completed work on 

most operating license applications a decade later, it devoted 

much less attention and fewer resources to its licensing responsibilities. During the first half of the 1980s, the NRC’s 

deliberations and policy decisions were in large measure a 

response to the TMI accident. However, by the latter part 

of the decade, the agency was addressing a wide range of 

new questions related to the safety of the about 100 plants 

in operation. Not surprisingly, the issues that the agency 

considered often raised difficult and divisive questions for 

which there were no ready answers.

Decommissioning and License Renewal

One key issue related to operating plants that the NRC 

considered during the 1980s was decommissioning, the final 

step of the life cycle for licensed facilities. Between 1947 

and 1975, a total of 50 nuclear plants, including five small 

experimental power reactors, were decommissioned. In the 

late 1970s, this experience gave the NRC confidence that 

the decommissioning of nuclear plants would not present major problems when their licenses expired. However, 

the NRC took a closer look at this subject in response to 

an investigation by the U.S. General Accounting Office, 

congressional hearings, and a petition from environmental 

organizations. In 1984, the staff reported to the Commission that existing regulations covered decommissioning in 

a “limited, vague, or inappropriate way and are not fully 

adequate.” As a result, the NRC drafted a rule that required 

licensees to specify how they planned to ensure that sufficient funding was available to clean up the sites on which 

their plants were located and to make certain that radiation 

levels at decommissioned sites were low enough to allow 

the land to be used for other purposes. After soliciting public 
68

New Issues, New Approaches

comments and making modest revisions in the draft, the 

NRC published a final rule in 1988.

The decommissioning rule was much more comprehensive 

than earlier NRC regulations, but it did not resolve all of the 

issues that arose on the subject. Within a short time after the 

rule became final, the agency faced an unprecedented and 

unanticipated question: What should be done about funding for “prematurely shutdown reactors”? The closing of 

three plants, including Shoreham, well before their operating licenses expired raised questions about how to pay for 

the costs of decommissioning reactors that had not operated 

long enough to accumulate adequate funding. This issue was 

underscored by the fact that the costs for decommissioning the Yankee Rowe plant ran much higher than projected. 

While the NRC wrestled with this question, it also deliberated over the level of radiation that should be permitted at 

the sites of decommissioned plants. This issue generated 

opposing views and sometimes sharp differences between 

the NRC and the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.

As decommissioning issues were debated, the NRC also devoted considerable attention and resources to renewing the 

operating licenses of nuclear power plants. Although some 

utilities were closing reactors long before the expiration of 

their 40-year operating licenses, others were weighing the 

possibility of extending the lives of plants beyond 40 years. 

The 40year licensing period for nuclear plants was a rather 

arbitrary compromise written into the Atomic Energy Act of 

1954. It was not based on technical information or operating experience but instead on the amortization period for 

fossil fuel plants. In the late 1970s, industry groups closely 

examined the issue of plant life extension for the first time. 

For example, the Electric Power Research Institute concluded that the reconditioning of old plants offered potentially 

major benefits, but it cautioned that the benefits depended 

on financial considerations and on technical assessments, 
69

Chapter 4

environmental issues, and projections of power availability. 

Those uncertainties were compounded by industry’s concern 

that the NRC was not prepared to address the question of 

license renewal promptly and knowledgeably.

In 1985, Chairman Nunzio J. Palladino prodded the NRC 

to undertake a careful analysis of license renewal. The 

agency had sponsored research on the critical question of 

the safety effects of plant aging for years, but many technical questions remained unanswered. License renewal also 

raised complex legal and policy issues. The NRC staff cited 

the “central regulatory question” that plant life extension 

presented: What is an adequate licensing basis for renewing 

the operating license of a nuclear power plant?

The NRC deliberated over this issue and its corollaries for 

several years. Eventually, it decided that the maximum 

length of an extended license would be 20 years. The agency 

also concluded that using the existing regulatory requirements governing a plant would offer reasonable assurance 

of adequate protection if its license were renewed, provided 

that the “current licensing basis” was modified to account 

for age-related safety issues. In 1991, the Commission approved a regulation on the technical requirements for license 

renewal. After considering ways to evaluate the environmental consequences of license renewal, the NRC elected to develop a generic environmental impact statement that covered 

effects that were common to all or most nuclear plants. In 

April 1998, Baltimore Gas and Electric Company became 

the first utility to apply for license renewal for its Calvert 

Cliffs plants on the Chesapeake Bay. Duke Energy Corporation followed suit in July 1998 when it sought license extensions for the Oconee Nuclear Station in South Carolina.

Risk Assessment and Nuclear Safety

As the NRC considered its policies on license renewal, representatives of the nuclear industry expressed concern that 
70

New Issues, New Approaches

the costs and uncertainties of the regulatory process would 

negate the potential advantages of plant life extension. This 

concern was consistent with strong industry criticism of 

the NRC’s regulations or the ways in which these regulations were implemented. Of course, industry protests about 

regulatory burdens were nothing new, but they had taken 

on increased urgency and intensity by the early part of the 

1990s. Industry officials complained that NRC regulations 

were in many cases excessive and potentially counterproductive. They particularly objected to the agency’s numerical ratings of plant performance, which they found to be 

arbitrary and inconsistent. They also asserted that many of 

the requirements imposed in response to the TMI accident 

gave the NRC an unduly intrusive presence in the day-today operations of its licensees.

A report prepared by the Towers Perrin consulting firm 

for a prominent industry group, the Nuclear Energy Institute (NEI), concluded in 1994 that the NRC’s policies and 

practices represented a “serious threat to America’s nuclear 

energy resource” by distracting plant management, undermining public trust in nuclear power, and “pricing nuclear 

power out of the competitive energy marketplace.” The report called for prompt changes to “reverse the NRC’s role in 

accelerating the decline of the nuclear industry.” The Towers 

Perrin study found that the NRC regulatory approach was 

“negative and punitive,” and it urged the agency to place 

greater emphasis on performance-based assessments that 

would recognize the significant improvements that industry 

had achieved since the TMI accident.

By the time that the Towers Perrin report appeared, the NRC 

had begun to evaluate ways in which risk assessment and 

performance indicators should be factored into the regulatory process. Nuclear industry representatives complained 

that the NRC relied too heavily on “prescriptive” regulations that specified a rigid solution to a licensee on how 
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Chapter 4

to carry out a safety goal. In some cases, this meant that 

licensees that had already met a regulatory standard using 

their own methods had to expend considerable staff hours to 

implement an alternative approach that the NRC preferred. 

The Towers Perrin report urged the NRC to place greater 

emphasis on nonprescriptive performance-based regulations. 

This would allow licensees greater leeway in determining 

how to accomplish regulatory goals and presumably cut 

costs without sacrificing safety. Noting the rise in operating 

and maintenance costs, NRC Chairman Ivan Selin (1992–

1995) declared, “We feel that the NRC has been a factor in 

this and that perhaps it’s time for us to step up our search 

for places where we may inadvertently cause more costs 

than justified by health and safety.” In 1991, the Commission instructed the NRC staff to investigate the feasibility of 

using more performance-based regulations that focused on a 

“result to be obtained, rather than prescribing to the licensee 

how the objective is to be obtained.” This initiative received 

strong support from Selin; his successor, Shirley Ann Jackson (1995–1999); and their colleagues on the Commission.

The effective employment of performance-based regulations 

was closely tied to informed analyses of risk. The Towers 

Perrin report complained that the NRC made little effort to 

distinguish safety from nonsafety issues and to appropriately 

prioritize them. It claimed that the result was a “diversion 

and dilution of licensee resources” away from the most 

important safety issues, such as human performance when 

problems arose at the plant. The industry and many in the 

NRC called for the conduct of probabilistic risk assessments 

(PRAs) as a more effective way to assess hazards and to use 

resources efficiently to protect against them.

The benefits of PRAs had been debated within the NRC 

since the Rasmussen report of 1975 without making a major 

impact on the formulation or enforcement of the agency’s 

regulations. Industry was concerned that the NRC remained 
72

New Issues, New Approaches

wedded to a “deterministic analysis” and a redundant 

“defense-in-depth” approach that downplayed the role of 

risk assessment in safety evaluations. Regulators using a 

deterministic approach simply tried to imagine “credible” 

mishaps and their consequences at a nuclear facility and 

then required the defense-in-depth approach—layers of 

redundant safety features—to guard against them. Before 

TMI, no severe accidents that melted the core of a plant 

had ever occurred, and no sure way existed to calculate the 

probability of a major accident. NRC experts used their collective judgment to determine what accidents were credible, 

and the agency often mandated multiple safety systems to 

compensate for the uncertainty of an accident’s probability and consequences. This approach had worked well in 

protecting public safety; defense-in-depth was critical in 

preventing sizeable releases of the most dangerous forms 

of radiation at TMI. However, the defenseindepth approach 

was not effective in prioritizing accidents or in judging 

when an extra, often expensive, safety system produced a 

commensurate increase in margins of safety. Proponents 

argued that a PRA, with its much more detailed use of probabilities and modeling of plant and human behavior, could 

better deal with such issues.

During the 1980s, the NRC moved cautiously to implement 

PRAs. Industry and the NRC agreed on the general objective of increasing the use of PRAs, but many uncertainties 

about how to apply the concept of risk assessment in practice remained. Too few data were available to allow PRAs 

to offer reliable estimates of risk. For example, an NRC 

tabulation of PRA data on the probability of core melting 

indicated that uncertainties with the data and models meant 

that the actual risk could be higher or lower by an order 

of magnitude. A U.S. General Accounting Office report 

of 1985 praised the NRC’s decision to limit the applicability of PRAs to providing supplemental information in 

environmental impact statements, helping to prioritize the 
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Chapter 4

resolution of safety issues that were generic to all reactors, 

and determining the possible benefit of proposed regulatory 

actions. The U.S. General Accounting Office concluded that 

“substantial limitations of PRA in terms of the uncertainties 

of the results” supported the continuation of its qualified use 

in safety analysis and decisionmaking.

By the 1990s, the state of the art of PRAs had advanced 

significantly, in part as a result of research programs 

launched in the wake of the TMI accident. In 1991, the NRC 

completed a major study entitled, “Severe Accident Risks: 

An Assessment of Five U.S. Nuclear Power Plants,” that it 

hailed as a “significant turning point in the use of risk-based 

concepts.” In 1995, the Commission unanimously adopted 

a policy statement that encouraged the broad application of 

PRAs in the regulatory process to enhance decisionmaking 

on safety issues and to ease “unnecessary burdens on licensees.” Within a short time, the agency began to use the phrase 

“risk-informed, performance-based regulation” to describe 

its intention to take advantage of the insights provided 

by risk assessment. The NRC suggested that risk analysis 

would enable it to “focus on those regulated activities that 

pose the greatest risk to the public.” Nevertheless, the policy 

statement made clear that PRAs were still playing second 

fiddle to the defense-in-depth approach and should be used 

largely to identify “overly conservative regulatory requirements.” The continuing precedence of deterministic analysis 

was highlighted in 1997 when the Commission voted to 

require a containment spray system in a new Westinghouse 

plant design even though PRAs indicated that the design 

was “safe enough” without the spray system.

Despite the affirmation of the importance of defense in 

depth, the NRC continued to search for ways to use PRAs 

to improve the regulatory process. Eventually, it developed 

a “reactor oversight process” to “inspect, measure, and assess the safety performance of commercial nuclear power 
74

New Issues, New Approaches

plants and to respond to any decline in performance.” The 

NRC evaluated individual plants on a series of performance 

indicators with regard to reactor safety, radiation exposures 

to workers and the public, and physical protection.

Quality Assurance and Plant Maintenance

One of the most important issues that the NRC tackled as 

it turned its attention to the regulation of operating reactors 

during the 1980s was quality assurance (QA), which had 

been an issue of growing concern since the waning days of 

the AEC. In 1974, John G. Davis, a regulatory staff member 

in the AEC, told attendees at a nuclear industry meeting that 

“considering the extent that AEC has gone in order to stress 

the importance of QA, we find the continuing deficient 

programs to be quite disappointing.” He suggested that 

utilities, rather than viewing QA as an essential part of plant 

management, too often merely met the minimum requirements mandated by the AEC. To improve existing practices, 

in addition to providing a “higher incentive” for performance through stiffer fines for failures, the AEC introduced 

a trial program of “resident inspectors” at two plant sites. 

Their assignment was to provide regular onsite verification 

that utilities complied with regulations instead of relying on 

comparatively superficial, infrequent visits from inspectors 

based in regional offices. In 1977, the NRC determined that 

the resident inspector concept was workable and expanded 

the program to more facilities.

In the wake of the TMI accident, the NRC gave increased 

attention and resources to QA and proper maintenance in operating plants. The agency estimated in 1985 that more than 

35 percent of the “abnormal occurrences” that it had reported 

to Congress over the previous 10 years were directly attributable to maintenance deficiencies. Many of the problems 

arose from human errors, such as failing to follow procedures, installing equipment incorrectly, or using the wrong 

parts to make repairs. The need for improvements in main-
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Chapter 4

tenance was underscored when an incident in 1985 at the 

Davis-Besse Nuclear Power Station in Ohio resulted in the 

loss of all feedwater. Failures in feedwater pumps, including 

auxiliary pumps that the plant had not tested or maintained, 

caused what could have produced a major accident.

The nuclear industry was well aware of its shortcomings 

in maintenance programs and took steps to make improvements. The NRC applauded those efforts but concluded that 

the licensees still “had a long way to go in the maintenance 

area.” Therefore, in June 1988, the Commission directed the 

NRC staff to draft a maintenance rule as a matter of “highest priority.” In June 1991, despite industry objections that 

the rule was unnecessary, the Commission voted to adopt a 

regulation that required adequate maintenance programs in 

all commercial nuclear plants. It ordered the staff to prepare 

broad guidelines to assist licensees in identifying existing 

weaknesses and in establishing procedures that would fulfill 

the NRC’s requirements.

The maintenance issue was an important part of the larger 

problem of QA. After the TMI accident, the NRC decided to 

station two resident inspectors at each plant. As the number 

of inspectors and inspections increased, the hours devoted 

to checking on licensees’ performance doubled by the early 

1980s. At the same time, the number of inspection procedures more than doubled, which made it difficult for the 

resident inspectors to complete their tasks on schedule. As 

a result, the NRC began to make greater use of risk assessment and trend analysis in its overall QA and inspection 

protocols. Risk assessment presented the possibility of prioritizing those inspection activities most relevant to safety 

and reducing the regulatory burden on licensees.

In 1987, the NRC staff announced a shift to performancebased inspections. The staff would use the direct observation of plant activities for the purpose of enhancing safety 
76

New Issues, New Approaches

and reliability instead of document reviews that simply 

demonstrated that a licensee conformed to regulations and 

procedures. However, implementing performance-based 

inspections proved difficult. The Towers Perrin report testified to the industry’s view that inspectors’ evaluations were 

frequently inconsistent and arbitrary. In 1995, the NRC’s 

inspector general concluded that the agency’s resident 

inspectors lacked a clear understanding of how to carry out 

the performance-based concept. This conclusion led to a 

revision of inspection guidelines and reforms in the training 

of inspectors.

The NRC improved its use of data and risk assessment in 

inspections. In 1995, the South Texas Nuclear Power Plant 

suffered an extended shutdown after continuing problems 

with emergency systems. The NRC found that many of 

the plant’s problems were evident from earlier inspection 

reports, but that the information had not been applied effectively in overall performance assessments. The agency 

sought to make better use of inspection data and reformed 

its inspection program through greater emphasis on PRA. 

In 2002, for example, it issued a new Standard Review Plan 

as guidance for the use of PRAs in the inservice inspection 

of piping.

The Millstone Controversy

Although risk-informed regulation offered many potential 

benefits for evaluating the performance of nuclear plants, it 

was not capable of detecting every safety issue that could 

generate acute public concern. In that regard, risk-informed 

regulation was not necessarily a useful means of building public confidence in nuclear power technology or in 

the NRC. This fact was amply demonstrated when a series 

of problems arose at the Millstone Power Station, which 

included three plants located on the northern side of Long 

Island Sound in Connecticut. The safety issues at Millstone 

required attention, but they were not so serious that risk 
77

Chapter 4

analysis was likely to identify them as priority matters. 

Commissioner Nils J. Diaz commented in 1997 that of the 

many issues to be resolved at Millstone, “only a handful 

appear to have been safety-significant.” Nevertheless, the 

failures at Millstone created a great deal of controversy and 

a barrage of criticism of the NRC.

The uproar over Millstone began in the early 1990s when 

several plant employees claimed that they were harassed, 

intimidated, or dismissed from their jobs by the owner of 

the plant, Northeast Utilities, for calling attention to safety 

problems and violations of NRC regulations. The NRC 

investigated the concerns raised by these “whistleblowers” 

and determined that the safety issues that they raised were 

not of major significance and had been corrected. However, 

the agency also concluded that the utility had harassed employees and assessed a fine against it of $100,000, the maximum amount allowed by law. The NRC’s action in this case 

did not satisfy the dissidents at Millstone or elsewhere, who 

insisted that the agency was neither prompt nor firm in dealing with the issues that they cited or in protecting them from 

retaliation by their employers. As a result of the complaints 

from Millstone and other plants, the agency reexamined and 

eventually tightened its policies to better protect whistleblowers who contacted the NRC about safety issues.

Meanwhile, new revelations at Millstone generated increasing NRC scrutiny. They also commanded growing media 

attention, much of which was sharply critical of the NRC. In 

1993 and again in 1994, the NRC fined Northeast Utilities 

for procedural violations that the agency viewed as serious 

lapses in the management of the Millstone units. The utility 

pledged to improve its performance and “to resolve issues 

raised by [its] employees.” Nevertheless, another issue that 

company employees reported soon triggered new reservations about safety at Millstone and the effectiveness of the 

NRC’s enforcement policies. In this case, the whistleblow-
78

New Issues, New Approaches

ers objected to the company’s practice of placing the entire 

nuclear core into the spent fuel pool at Millstone, Unit 1, 

during refueling operations. NRC regulations specified that 

in older plants such as Millstone, Unit 1, only one-third of 

the spent fuel rods could be moved into the pool. However, 

Millstone, Unit 1, had performed “full-core offloading” for 

years as an “emergency” procedure, with the NRC’s knowledge of this practice. Finally, after its employees questioned 

the practice, Northeast Utilities applied for a license amendment that expressly permitted full-core offloading, and the 

NRC granted its approval in November 1995.

By that time, the utility and the NRC were the subjects of 

extensive and unflattering coverage in the local media. In 

March 1996, the criticism reached a new level of visibility 

when Time magazine ran a cover story on the whistleblowers who had “caught the Nuclear Regulatory Commission at 

a dangerous game.” The article suggested that an accident 

in a spent fuel pool posed the hazard of “releasing massive amounts of radiation and rendering hundreds of square 

miles uninhabitable.” It charged that the NRC “may be more 

concerned with propping up an embattled, economically 

strained industry than with ensuring public safety.” NRC 

Chairman Jackson conceded that the Time article demonstrated that “not all aspects of nuclear regulation or nuclear 

operations in certain places are as they should be,” but she 

strongly denied the implication that “the Millstone situation 

borders on an impending TMI- or Chernobyl-type disaster.”

Amid the growing criticism, the NRC conducted its own 

reviews to identify and correct errors that the Millstone experience brought to light. An internal task force reported in 

September 1996 that the “safety significance of Millstone’s 

refueling practices was low.” Nevertheless, it recommended 

a series of procedural, informational, and management improvements designed to ensure that licensees complied with 

NRC regulations and that the agency enforced its own rules. 
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Chapter 4

The NRC sought to minimize “recurring exemptions” from 

its regulations, such as those that occurred in the refueling 

practices at Millstone, Unit 1. It reemphasized its position 

that exemptions were intended to apply to special circumstances in which specific requirements could be waived 

without compromising public safety. The agency also undertook a careful study of a frequently used provision in its 

regulations that allowed licensees to make changes in their 

plants without NRC permission under certain conditions. 

In 1999, the Commission approved revisions designed to 

clarify the rule and provide guidance on when NRC consent 

was necessary within a risk-informed framework.

While the NRC examined its own regulations and procedures, it conducted an expanding probe of the Millstone 

plant. In May 1996, the NRC’s inspector general faulted 

the agency for failing to recognize the problems at Millstone and impose corrective actions much earlier. When the 

NRC’s investigations, along with those conducted by the 

utility, turned up hundreds of performance and procedural 

deficiencies, the agency took the unusual step of stipulating 

that the utility would not be allowed to restart its three units, 

all of which had been shut down, without a formal vote of 

the Commission. Eventually, after the utility made management changes, took a series of steps to address its problems, 

and decided to permanently close Millstone, Unit 1, the 

Commission authorized the restart of Unit 2 (in 1999) and 

Unit 3 (in 1998). The series of problems at Millstone threw 

into sharp relief the general difficulties that the NRC had 

encountered with plants that did not perform up to standards 

and did not correct their deficiencies promptly or effectively. 

The Commission devoted a great deal of energy to encouraging or forcing improvements in plants that did not fully 

meet its requirements.
80

New Issues, New Approaches

Regulating Nuclear Materials

Although reactor safety issues captured a lion’s 

share of public notice, the NRC also devoted substantial 

resources to a variety of complex matters in the area of 

nuclear materials safety and safeguards. The protection of 

nuclear materials from theft and diversion remained a major 

agency concern, although it did not command the level of 

public attention it had received during the 1970s. In cooperation and sometimes in conflict with other Government 

agencies, the NRC evaluated the safety problems involved 

in building and operating repositories for high- and lowlevel radioactive waste. Despite Federal legislation that 

attempted to provide the means for establishing permanent 

waste sites and the efforts of Government officials, scientists, engineers, and other professionals, the disposal of 

radioactive wastes remained a source of intense public concern and bitter political controversy. The NRC also considered its role in regulating certain medical uses of radioactive 

materials. Although it exercised only limited responsibilities 

in the field of “radiation medicine,” it sought to ensure that 

patients received the proper doses of radiation from procedures under its regulatory authority. The agency’s rules elicited protests from medical practitioners and organizations 

who complained about regulatory overkill that intruded into 

physician-patient relationships.

The issues surrounding the regulation of nuclear materials, 

the problems at Millstone, and the use of risk assessment 

in regulatory decisionmaking underscored the prevailing 

patterns in the history of nuclear regulation over a period of 

four decades. The nuclear industry and materials licensees 

often asserted that regulatory requirements were too burdensome, too inflexible, and too strict. On the other hand, 

nuclear critics frequently lamented that regulatory requirements were too lax, too sympathetic to industry concerns, 

and too inattentive to public safety. The NRC, and the AEC 
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Chapter 4

before it, attempted to find a proper balance between essential and excessive regulation, but this task was difficult 

and uncertain, and it usually elicited complaints from one 

side or all sides of regulatory issues. The NRC sought to 

separate valid criticisms from those that were exaggerated 

or ill formed, but this process received little praise from the 

agency’s different (and frequently competing) constituencies. “The bane of the regulator,” a senior agency official 

remarked in 1998, “is to feel unloved.” The ongoing effort 

to promote the safe operation of nuclear power plants without imposing undue burdens on their owners ensured that 

nuclear regulation would remain a complex and controversial public policy issue.

A Terrorist 

Attack and a 

Nuclear Revival

Chapter Five

83

Chapter 5

Shortly after the dawn of the 21st century, the NRC marked 

the 25th anniversary of the date that it began operations in 

January 1975. It continued to face many of the same issues 

and controversies that had been a prominent part of the first 

quarter of a century of its history. However, the new century 

soon brought unexpected and unfamiliar new developments 

that had a major impact on the agency’s policies, procedures, and planning for the future.

The Impact of the Terrorist Attacks of 

September 11, 2001

The first such event was the shock of the terrorist attacks 

on the World Trade Center in New York and the Pentagon 

building near Washington, DC, on September 11, 2001. The 

air assaults by suicide squads raised two crucial questions 

for the NRC and the nuclear industry: (1) the vulnerability 

of nuclear plants to a raid by terrorists who could disable 

safety systems and cause a massive release of radiation to 

the environment and (2) the possible effects of an airplane 

loaded with fuel hitting a plant at a high speed.

As soon as the NRC learned of the attacks on the morning 

of September 11, 2001, it told its licensees to move to their 

highest level of readiness, Security Level 3. This meant 

that licensees added to the size of their security forces on 

site, increased the number of patrols that they conducted, 

and made access to plants more difficult. The NRC pointed 

out that security arrangements at nuclear plants before the 

September 11 attacks had already been rigorous as a result 

of the regulations that had been imposed during the 1970s. 

In September 2002, Chairman Richard A. Meserve commented, “I am aware of no other industry that has had to 

satisfy the tough security requirements that the NRC has had 

in place for a quarter of a century.”

In the aftermath of the September 11 attacks, the NRC 

reviewed its regulations to consider what steps should be 
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A Terrorist Attack and a Nuclear Revival

taken to improve existing requirements. In February 2002, 

it ordered a series of security measures, many of which formalized steps taken immediately after the terrorist attacks. 

For security reasons, the NRC offered few details to the 

public about the enhanced requirements. However, it generally instructed licensees to conduct more patrols, build up 

the size and capability of security forces, install additional 

physical barriers, perform vehicle inspections at a greater 

distance from reactors, provide tighter control of access by 

plant workers to buildings and equipment, and improve coordination with military and law enforcement agencies. The 

NRC also decided that each plant would carry out force-onforce exercises to evaluate the effectiveness of its security 

regime every 3 years instead of every 8 years. In April 2002, 

the Commission created the Office of Nuclear Security and 

Incident Response to serve as the focal point for the NRC’s 

security programs. In April 2003 and March 2006, the NRC 

issued upgraded requirements for the “design-basis threat” 

that plant owners had to be prepared to meet. The provisions 

were not made public, but the agency announced that these 

requirements would guard against “the largest reasonable 

threat against which a regulated private guard force should 

be expected to defend under existing law.”

The regulatory changes that the NRC made in the wake of 

the September 11 attacks stirred criticism from those who 

believed that nuclear plants were still vulnerable. Some 

members of Congress, claiming that the NRC and industry 

had failed to adequately address the dangers of terrorist 

attacks, introduced legislation to establish a Federal guard 

force under NRC authority. The NRC strongly objected to 

the proposal on the grounds that it would be “a costly, unwieldy solution” that would not benefit security but would 

compromise the agency’s ability to promote reactor safety. 

In 2003, Daniel Hirsch of the Committee to Bridge the Gap, 

David Lochbaum of UCS, and Edwin Lyman of the Nuclear 

Control Institute accused the NRC of keeping a “dirty little 
85

Chapter 5

secret”—that it required nuclear plant owners “to maintain 

only a minimal security capability.” They asserted that the 

defensive posture envisioned by the design-basis threat 

would leave security forces ill prepared and ill equipped to 

fight off a well-armed band of commandos who were intent 

on gaining access to a plant and causing a massive release of 

radiation. They further contended that the simulated attacks 

that the NRC used to test a plant’s readiness, called Operational Safeguards Response Evaluation (OSRE), showed 

severe weaknesses. “At nearly half the nuclear plants where 

security has been OSRE-tested,” they wrote, “mock attackers have been able to enter quickly and simulate the destruction of enough safety equipment to cause a meltdown.”

The NRC strongly disagreed with the charges that its 

security requirements were lax and ineffective. Commissioner Edward McGaffigan, Jr., was particularly outspoken 

in responding to such indictments. He denied suggestions 

that nuclear plants were “soft targets” and emphasized that 

they were “hard targets by any conceivable definition.” He 

accused critics of distorting the results of the OSRE drills. 

“These were not pass-fail exams,” McGaffigan remarked. 

“They were meant to identify weaknesses that needed to be 

corrected.” He pointed out that although the mock assault 

teams had “almost perfect knowledge of the plant’s defenses 

and perfect knowledge of the plant’s layout and the equipment they need to attack to try to bring about core damage,” 

they succeeded in reaching their targets in only 9 of the 59 

exercises carried out between April 2000 and August 2001. 

In addition, the successes that they achieved revealed flaws 

that were “promptly fixed.” The NRC made further improvements in the program after the September 11 attacks. 

The security of plants from a ground attack continued to be 

a source of controversy and reevaluation. For example, in 

September 2003, the U.S. General Accounting Office reported that despite the actions taken after the September 11 

attacks, the NRC needed to improve the collection and 
86

A Terrorist Attack and a Nuclear Revival

dissemination of information, tighten inspection and access 

procedures, and plan more realistic exercises. In November 2004, the NRC began to carry out drills that reflected 

improvements made after the September 11 attacks, including the new design-basis threat and more realistic scenarios. 

As the NRC was working on the protection of plants from 

a commando strike, it was also considering another problem that was equally difficult and even more ethereal—the 

effects of an airplane hitting a reactor building or spent fuel 

pool. Shortly after terrorists flew airplanes into the World 

Trade Center and the Pentagon on September 11, 2001, the 

NRC acknowledged that nuclear plant builders “did not 

specifically contemplate attacks by aircraft such as Boeing 757s and 767s, and nuclear plants were not designed 

to withstand such crashes.” The only operating plant 

designed to guard against the impact of a large airplane 

was TMI, located 3 miles from Harrisburg International 

Airport. It was designed to protect against a plane of about 

200,000 pounds accidentally hitting the plant at a speed 

of 230 miles per hour; the planes that terrorists hijacked 

on September 11, 2001, were heavier and hit their targets 

at speeds of 350 to 537 miles per hour. Although the NRC 

pointed out that containment buildings were “extremely rugged structures,” it could not predict with certainty what the 

consequences would be “if a large airliner, fully loaded with 

jet fuel...crashed into a nuclear power plant.” The critical 

issue that industry and the NRC then faced was to assess the 

vulnerability of plants to an air attack that could produce a 

massive release of radiation.

In June 2002, NEI announced the results of a study conducted by the Electric Power Research Institute that it had sponsored on this issue. “We think it’s extremely unlikely that 

the aircraft would be able to penetrate the reactor,” an NEI 

official declared. “We feel very, very confident about the 

containment structure.” The report analyzed the effects of a 
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Chapter 5

plane hitting the reactor building at various angles at about 

350 miles per hour. It did not consider the impact of a plane 

traveling at a greater speed because the probability that a 

pilot could strike the target at a high speed and at low altitude was “virtually nil.” Nuclear critics were not convinced. 

Lyman questioned the methodology of the NEI study and 

contended that an airplane piloted by a terrorist could indeed 

crash through containment with catastrophic consequences. 

The NRC, based on the research of national laboratories and 

its own staff, arrived at conclusions that were supportive of, 

but more equivocal than, those of NEI. In September 2004, 

the agency reported that if an airplane struck a nuclear plant, 

it could cause radiation releases. However, the NRC found 

it “unlikely” that a crash would lead to a large release of 

radioactive materials and emphasized that plant operators 

would have sufficient time to take “mitigating actions” to 

protect public health. 

Nuclear critics argued that even if the containment structure 

is strong enough to withstand the impact of an airplane, 

spent fuel pools are much more vulnerable. The pools that 

hold highly radioactive fuel rods, after their removal from 

the core, are housed in separate buildings that are not as robust as the containment structures that protect reactors. The 

fuel rods are stored under at least 20 feet of water, which is 

enough of a barrier to prevent radiation exposure 

to persons standing above the pools. The walls of the pools 

are built with steel-reinforced concrete that is 4 to 6 feet 

thick. In 2003, a group of eight respected nuclear critics 

published an article that claimed that a terrorist attack with 

an airplane or an antitank missile could drain the cooling 

water from a spent fuel pool, ignite a large fire, and cause 

consequences “significantly worse than those from Chernobyl.” The article was often referred to as the “Alvarez 

report” after the first-listed author, Robert Alvarez of the 

Institute for Policy Studies.
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A Terrorist Attack and a Nuclear Revival

The NRC staff carefully reviewed the Alvarez study. It 

concluded that the report suffered from “excessive conservatisms” and failed to make its case for the need for costly 

measures to improve the security of spent fuel storage. Alvarez and his coauthors had drawn heavily from earlier studies 

that the NRC had conducted or sponsored, and the agency 

commented that most of these studies “are not applicable to 

terrorist attacks.” It revealed that research performed since 

the September 11 attacks showed that the hazards cited in 

the Alvarez report were overstated and misleading and that 

existing methods of storing spent fuel were sufficient “to 

adequately protect the public.” Alvarez and his colleagues 

complained that the NRC had criticized their findings but 

had refused to make public the new classified studies on 

which it based its position. They accused the NRC of hiding 

its analysis “behind a curtain of secrecy.”

The standoff between the NRC and its critics on the vulnerability of spent fuel pools led Congress to request a study 

of the issue by the National Academy of Sciences. A group 

of 15 scientists conducted the investigation and announced 

their findings in April 2005. The group concluded that a 

successful terrorist attack would be difficult to execute 

but would be possible under some conditions. The panel 

argued that there were “no requirements in place to defend 

against the kinds of larger-scale, premeditated, skillful attacks that were carried out on September 11, 2001.” The 

NRC announced that it “respectfully” disagreed with that 

contention. It also suggested that even if a spent fuel pool 

were drained, a fire hose or two could provide enough 

water to cool the fuel rods. The philosophical differences 

between the National Academy and the NRC were not easily 

resolved because the agency, in accordance with legal requirements, could not share sensitive, although unclassified, 

information about defensive measures at nuclear plants. 
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Chapter 5

This issue led to sharp exchanges with the National 

Academy, which complained that guidelines for making 

“safeguards information” available were vague. The NRC 

suffered stinging criticism for its position. For example, the 

New York Times found it “disturbing that the commission, 

in the name of national security, denied the academy the 

information needed to assess the effectiveness of security 

improvements instituted since 9/11.” It called the dispute 

a “sorry episode.” Despite the acrimony of the debate, the 

NRC carried out one of the National Academy’s major 

recommendations by instructing licensees to reposition 

fuel rods in spent fuel pools in a way that would reduce the 

buildup of heat and decrease the chances of a disastrous fire.

“Significant Degradation” at Davis-Besse

At the same time that the NRC was evaluating security 

requirements at nuclear power sites, it was responding to 

a serious safety issue that arose at the Davis-Besse plant 

in Ohio. In February 2002, an inspection of the reactor 

revealed “significant degradation” of the pressure vessel 

lid. To the surprise and consternation of the company that 

owned the plant, First Energy Nuclear Operating Company, 

and the NRC, it turned out that corrosion had created a 

“large cavity” in the vessel head. The football-sized gap 

measured about 4 inches wide and 7 inches deep. The corrosion had displaced about 70 pounds of steel and left only 

a comparatively thin layer of stainless-steel cladding about 

three-eighths of an inch in depth. The damage to the head 

was very disturbing because a failure of the corrosion-resistant cladding could have led to a loss-of-coolant accident.

The discovery of the corrosion of the reactor vessel head 

raised a number of troubling questions. The critical issue 

was why the utility and the NRC had failed to identify the 

problem sooner and take action to correct the conditions that 

caused the damage. Investigations by First Energy and the 

NRC revealed that the company had paid insufficient atten-
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A Terrorist Attack and a Nuclear Revival

tion to signs of corrosion and had made erroneous assumptions, based on incomplete information, about the need for 

careful inspection of the head. The utility found that “there 

was a focus on production, established by management, 

combined with taking minimum actions to meet regulatory 

requirements, that resulted in the acceptance of degraded 

conditions.” Lew Myers, Chief Operating Officer of First 

Energy, told the NRC that he was “humbled and in fact 

embarrassed” by those findings.

The NRC established a “Lessons Learned Task Force” to examine the agency’s role in the deficiencies at Davis-Besse. It 

concluded that staff shortages and the attention commanded 

by other troubled plants in the NRC’s Region III office had 

contributed to the delay in finding the corrosion at DavisBesse. Davis-Besse was regarded as a “good performer,” 

and the regional office focused its resources on other plants 

that were shut down and that required augmented oversight. 

The number of inspection hours at Davis-Besse was consistently below average for the region, and job openings for 

resident inspectors at the facility went unfilled for lengthy 

periods. The task force also criticized the performance of the 

resident inspectors and faulted them for not recognizing the 

severity of the corrosion problem, reporting it to superiors, 

or following established procedures for dealing with it.

The failures at Davis-Besse generated a great deal of concern 

within First Energy and the NRC. The issue received considerable coverage in newspapers around the country and extensive treatment in Cleveland, Toledo, and other locations in 

Ohio. The problem of corrosion at Davis-Besse soon became 

linked to another controversy over the NRC’s inquiry into 

a generic problem of potential cracking in control rod drive 

mechanism nozzles in the vessel head. On August 3, 2001, 

the NRC instructed owners of pressurized-water reactors to check the status of the drive mechanism nozzles in 

their plants by December 31, 2001. The agency acted in 
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Chapter 5

response to the discovery of “circumferential cracking” at 

two pressurized-water reactors, a defect that could over time 

cause a serious accident. The inspections would have to be 

performed when plants were shut down for refueling or other 

reasons, and the NRC specified that the date for conducting 

the surveys could be moved back if the staff judged on a 

case-by-case basis that the risks were acceptably small. First 

Energy petitioned the NRC to postpone the Davis-Besse 

inspection until a scheduled outage on March 31, 2002. The 

NRC staff reviewed the request and determined that the 

utility could run the plant until February 16, 2002, without 

triggering a “significant safety concern.”

The question of the timing for inspecting the drive mechanism nozzles for cracking soon generated an intense debate 

within the NRC. First Energy had unexpectedly discovered 

the corrosion of the vessel head in February 2002 in the process of looking for evidence of damage to the nozzles. This 

discovery threw into sharp relief the issue of whether the 

NRC had erred in allowing the plant to operate for 6 weeks 

beyond the December 31, 2001, deadline for inspecting the 

nozzles. In December 2002, the NRC’s inspector general 

The discovery of 

extensive corrosion 

on Davis-Besse’s 

reactor vessel head 

led to an extensive 

shutdown for the 

plant’s utility 

company and 

considerable reform 

of NRC inspection 

practices. 
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A Terrorist Attack and a Nuclear Revival

sent a report on Davis-Besse to the Commission. The 

inspector general had undertaken the study in response to 

charges from UCS that the agency had failed to adequately 

regulate the plant and that a loss-of-coolant accident could 

have been the result of this failure. In the report, the inspector general strongly criticized the NRC’s performance. It 

found, among other things, that the agency had “considered 

the financial impact to the licensee of an unscheduled plant 

shutdown” rather than making public health and safety its 

highest priority.

In an unusually unvarnished response, the NRC Commissioners told the inspector general that although they agreed 

with some aspects of the report, they regarded the most 

serious criticisms as “unjustified, unfair, and misleading.” 

They were especially incensed by the suggestion that they 

had placed the financial well-being of First Energy above 

public health and safety. They pointed out that the NRC had 

permitted the short extension beyond the original deadline 

for inspection of the reactor vessel head at Davis-Besse 

only after careful consideration by the staff. Furthermore, 

the Commissioners admonished the inspector general for 

not anticipating that the report “would be misconstrued to 

suggest staff acceptance of the unexpected head corrosion at 

the Davis-Besse plant.” They complained that the “staff did 

not know about the head corrosion at the time of its decision 

and, quite frankly, it is Monday-morning quarterbacking to 

question the decision on [circumferential] cracking in the 

false light of subsequent knowledge.”

The Commissioners’ concern that the original problem of the 

cracking of the control rod drive mechanism nozzles would 

be confused with the more urgent and more alarming problem of corrosion of the reactor head was well founded. The 

inspector general’s report provoked a barrage of attacks on 

the NRC, at least some of which were based on the erroneous premise that the agency had authorized Davis-Besse to 
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Chapter 5

continue operation even though it knew about the corrosion 

of the reactor head. The Toledo Blade reported that the NRC 

had shown “reckless complacency” by coming “down on the 

side of corporate profits” in a way that led to a “near calamity at the plant.” The Plain Dealer denounced NRC Chairman 

Meserve and his “equally narrow-minded” colleagues for 

“badmouthing” the inspector general’s report and charged 

that they had failed “to put safety at the top of their agenda.”

The controversy over Davis-Besse continued even after 

First Energy completed the repairs on the vessel head and 

the NRC allowed it to resume operation in March 2004. The 

central question concerned the possible consequences had 

the stainless steel cladding on the inside surface of the head 

failed. Critics of the NRC and First Energy claimed that 

the plant was on the verge of a catastrophic accident. Paul 

Gunter of the Nuclear Resource and Information Service 

accused the NRC of obscuring “just how close we were to 

losing Toledo.” The NRC readily conceded that a break in 

the cladding could have led to a loss-of-coolant accident and 

that the corrosion of the head was an “enormous failure” 

on the part of the agency and the utility. However, it denied 

that fracture of the cladding would have inevitably led to a 

massive release of radiation from the plant. The agency emphasized that the other barriers (including the containment 

building) that are in place would have, in all likelihood, 

prevented the escape of radiation. NRC Chairman Nils Diaz 

pointed out that “a variety of safety systems was available” 

and that even if the stainless steel liner “had been breached, 

the layers of safety would have protected Ohioans.”

 A Nuclear Revival?

Even as the NRC was dealing with new challenges to reactor safety from terrorist attacks and from the lapses at DavisBesse, the nuclear power industry was showing its first signs 

of revival after a slump of more than two decades. In the 

aftermath of the TMI accident, the nuclear industry adopted 
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A Terrorist Attack and a Nuclear Revival

a series of reforms to correct deficiencies that the accident 

had so graphically revealed. Changes in operator training, 

plant management, control room design, and equipment 

led to significant improvements in the safety and reliability 

of nuclear power. The capacity factor for nuclear plants 

indicates the percentage of time during which the plants 

produce power. This factor increased from 50 to 60 percent 

in the 1970s to 90 percent currently. The cost of generating 

electricity from nuclear reactors fell significantly. A series 

of safety indicators, including the number of reactor scrams 

(the sudden shutting down of a nuclear reactor), safety 

system failures, and collective radiation exposure for plant 

workers, showed consistent and substantial industrywide 

improvement. Nevertheless, the long-term prospects for the 

nuclear industry did not look promising. During the 1990s, 

it appeared doubtful that any new reactors would be built 

because of the high capital costs of construction relative to 

other sources of power. “The industry is doing better now,” 

Matthew Wald wrote in the New York Times in March 1999, 

“but ironically extinction is in sight.”

During the early years of the 21st century, however, the 

outlook for nuclear power brightened considerably. One 

important reason was the increasing need for power. During 

the 1990s, energy consumption in the United State grew by 

about 23 percent while production expanded by less than 

3 percent. It seemed apparent that many new plants would 

have to be built to generate enough power to meet America’s 

energy demands. In May 2001, President George W. Bush’s 

administration estimated that the Nation would need at least 

1,300 and perhaps 1,900 new power plants over a period of 

two decades. The disadvantages of fossil fuel as a source of 

energy were evident. A growing percentage of the country’s 

oil came from politically unreliable nations and domestic refining capacity had declined substantially. Coal was plentiful 

but exceptionally dirty. Natural gas had been the fuel source 

of choice during the 1990s, but there were acute concerns 
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Chapter 5

about the adequacy of supplies and cost. In that context, 

nuclear power began to look attractive or at least worthy of 

consideration. “We have even seen the first stirring of interest in the possibility of [nuclear plant] construction in the 

United States—a thought that would have been unthinkable 

even a year ago,” commented NRC Chairman Meserve in 

March 2001.

The advantages of nuclear power appeared even more apparent, at least to some observers, as public knowledge and 

concerns about global warming grew rapidly in the first 

decade of the 21st century. Scientists had theorized about 

the possibility that increasing quantities of carbon dioxide in 

the atmosphere could lead to climate change as far back as 

1899. In 1965, a report to the President’s Science Advisory 

Committee suggested that increasing levels of carbon dioxide from fossil fuels, which it called the “invisible pollutant,” could “have a significant effect on climate.” By the end 

of the 20th century, proposals to arrest climate change by 

limiting the use of fossil fuels had become a prominent public policy issue. Demands for taking steps to stabilize concentrations of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere, combined 

with the need for plants to generate sufficient electricity to 

meet projected energy requirements, gave new impetus to 

reconsidering nuclear power. 

In 2000, a group of analysts from various fields of expertise 

argued in an article in Science magazine that “nuclear power 

can play a significant role in mitigating climate change.” 

Their position received strong support in an interdisciplinary 

study conducted at MIT and published in 2003. The report, 

entitled, “The Future of Nuclear Power,” pointed out that 

“over the next 50 years, unless patterns change dramatically, 

energy production and use will contribute to global warming 

through large-scale gas emissions—hundreds of billions of 

tonnes of carbon in the form of carbon dioxide.” It concluded that the “nuclear option should be retained precisely 
96

A Terrorist Attack and a Nuclear Revival

because it is an important carbon-free source of power.” 

It urged that steps be taken to expand knowledge of safety 

issues throughout the nuclear fuel cycle, to improve international safeguards, and to resolve the problem of waste 

disposal. The MIT study also called for tax credits and other 

financial incentives to encourage the construction of nuclear 

plants and other carbon-free sources of energy.

The capital costs of building a nuclear plant were widely 

viewed as the major deterrent to the growth of the industry. 

Despite the need for power, the fear of global warming, and 

growing public support for nuclear power, the Financial 

Times reported in 2005 that “investing the billions of dollars needed to construct new reactors remains an enormous 

gamble.” That same year, Congress passed and President 

Bush signed an energy bill that sought to ease the financial 

burdens on utilities that built new nuclear plants with loan 

guarantees and other subsidies. The financial incentives 

were intended to encourage what was often referred to as 

the “nuclear renaissance.” The revival of the nuclear option 

proceeded steadily but not without considerable uncertainty. 

In 2006, National Geographic ran an article entitled, “It’s 

Scary. It’s Expensive. It Could Save the Earth.” It began by 

asking the question, “Nukes Again?” Its answer was equivocal: “Maybe.” By June 30, 2009, the NRC had received 18 

combined operating license applications for 28 new nuclear 

plants. However, only a few of the companies who submitted applications planned to start construction as soon as they 

received NRC approval.

Regardless of the extent of the nuclear renaissance or the 

pace at which it proceeds, the nuclear industry, the NRC, 

and other stakeholders should be keenly aware of the history 

of the first nuclear boom of the 1960s and mindful of the 

lessons to be learned from the experiences that followed, 

especially the need for conservative design, scrupulous 

operation, and careful regulation.



NUREG/BR-0175, Rev. 2

October 2010