Belarus’s Nuclear Noose 

Green European Journal
Belarus’s Nuclear Noose 

Forty years after the world’s worst man-made disaster at the Chornobyl Nuclear Power Plant, Belarus is aggressively expanding its nuclear ambitions, declaring its readiness to build a second plant. This effort is bankrolled and managed by Russia, which has already financed two reactors in Ostrovets and is now planning a third. But how did the nation that suffered most from the Chornobyl catastrophe come to embrace the “peaceful atom”, and why have anti-nuclear activists been unable to halt this trajectory?

Forty years after the world’s worst man-made disaster at the Chornobyl Nuclear Power Plant, Belarus is aggressively expanding its nuclear ambitions, declaring its readiness to build a second plant. This effort is bankrolled and managed by Russia, which has already financed two reactors in Ostrovets and is now planning a third. But how did the nation that suffered most from the Chornobyl catastrophe come to embrace the “peaceful atom”, and why have anti-nuclear activists been unable to halt this trajectory?

The explosion at Chornobyl on 26 April 1986 left Belarus as the primary “target” of the radioactive plume. Due to prevailing winds in the disaster’s immediate aftermath, approximately 35 per cent of all caesium-137 fallout in Europe landed on Belarusian soil, despite the plant being located in Ukraine. 

The radiation forced the evacuation of 470 villages and towns. Some were literally buried – homes and farmstead buildings bulldozed into the earth to contain high doses of radiation. Estimates suggest that between 140,000 and 300,000 Belarusians left their homes forever; some fled voluntarily, while others were forcibly relocated by the state. 

Belarus was also forced to withdraw 2,640 square kilometres of agricultural land from use – an area larger than the territory of Luxembourg. Radiation contaminated over 20 per cent of the country’s farmland, permanently altering the economic structure of what was once a predominantly agrarian nation. A quarter of Belarusian forests absorbed dangerous radionuclides like a sponge, making the gathering of berries, mushrooms, and the use of firewood hazardous even four decades later. 

In the first decade following the disaster, Belarus faced an unprecedented surge in thyroid cancer, particularly in the Gomel and Brest regions. Cases among children skyrocketed tenfold – a direct consequence of the “iodine shock” caused by Soviet authorities concealing the disaster while people celebrated May Day outdoors. 

Nowadays, official data suggests that one in ten Belarusians – including 180,000 children – still lives in radioactive contamination zones. Their bodies are exposed daily to low doses of radiation through local food and the environment. 

Meanwhile, state propaganda has begun to “forget” Chornobyl, framing its consequences as a historical event that has been successfully overcome. Assistance programs have been curtailed, and benefits for “liquidators” (recovery workers) have been revoked. Today, Belarus is ploughing land once deemed contaminated, grazing livestock on it, and harvesting timber from radioactive forests for export. Official health statistics no longer link thyroid disease or oncology to the 1986 disaster. Belarusians are being told that radiation is no longer a threat – and may even be beneficial. Yet warnings can still be found between the lines of specialised journals, which, for instance, continue to advise fishermen on how to cook fish that may contain caesium-137. 

The Kremlin’s geopolitical leash  

Despite the collective trauma of Chornobyl, President Alexander Lukashenko decided to build Belarus’s first nuclear power plant in 2008. The regime marketed it as a cutting-edge, safe project that would grant Belarus energy independence and cheap electricity. 

Defying expectations, the site chosen for the nuclear power plant was not in the already contaminated zones, but Ostrovets, a pristine area near the border with Lithuania (an EU and NATO member). On clear days, the cooling towers of the Belarusian NPP (BelNPP) in Ostrovets are visible from Gediminas Hill in Vilnius. 

Lacking the technology and capital to complete the project independently, Lukashenko turned to Russia for a 10-billion-dollar loan. Predictably, the Russian state nuclear enterprise Rosatom became the general contractor. The construction was plagued by scandals: the first reactor vessel was dropped during installation, and the second was damaged during rail transport. Nevertheless, the plant was inaugurated in November 2020, timed to coincide with the anniversary of the October Revolution in typical Soviet fashion. 

At the ceremony, Lukashenko remarked: “A little time will pass, and we will fully realise what a feat we have accomplished with the support of our elder brothers... I’m only half-joking when I say that since we’ve learned how, we should build a second plant.” 

However, the following years were marked by technical failures and unscheduled shutdowns. Six years after its launch, experts note that the plant has failed to deliver cheaper energy; in fact, electricity prices in Belarus have risen. Furthermore, the country now faces the massive expense of building its own spent nuclear fuel storage. 

The structural mismatch in Belarus’s energy strategy became painfully clear in 2024. According to the energy ministry, fully absorbing the output of just two nuclear units would require an annual demand surge of 18.5 billion kWh. However, with domestic consumption growing by a mere 6 billion kWh over the last five years, the project has become a white elephant. To make BelNPP economically viable, the country would need to consume in a single year what the plant has cumulatively generated over the past five. 

As a result, Belarus has effectively been placed on a 10-billion-dollar geopolitical leash. “Energy is the backbone of the economy, and in this, we are dependent on Russia,” notes Irina Sukhiy, an anti-nuclear activist and expert with the Green Belarus Alliance, which brings together Belarusian NGOs, experts, local communities, and activists. “If our eastern neighbours choose, they can cut off gas or stop supplying nuclear fuel.” 

Vanishing hopes for еxport 

In February 2025, the three Baltic states (Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia) officially decoupled from the BRELL grid (connecting Belarus, Russia, Estonia, Latvia, Lithuania) and began dismantling infrastructure on their borders with Belarus and with Russia’s Kaliningrad exclave. 

“We no longer have ties with Russia and Belarus; the energy system is in our hands,” declared Lithuanian Energy Minister Žygimantas Vaičiūnas. This synchronisation with continental Europe, accelerated by Russia’s war in Ukraine, dealt a serious blow to Minsk’s export ambitions. Lithuania, once the primary hub for Belarusian electricity, has not only closed its borders but also legally banned the purchase of energy from Ostrovets. 

A year before, Lithuania’s nuclear power safety regulator, VATESI, had issued a formal demand to the Belarusian Ministry of Emergency Situations, insisting that the BelNPP halt operations until all outstanding safety concerns are fully addressed. VATESI underscored that since the project’s inception, Minsk has prioritised rapid construction and commissioning over rigorous quality control – a particularly alarming strategy for a facility located a mere 40 kilometres from the Lithuanian capital. “This irresponsible approach is increasingly manifested in frequent unplanned shutdowns and power fluctuations,” the regulator noted, suggesting that such systemic instabilities were likely overlooked or ignored during the critical construction and installation phases. 

Beyond technical failures, VATESI accused the Belarusian regime of systemic opacity. The regulator claimed that Minsk consistently conceals critical data regarding BelNPP’s unstable performance, emergency scrams, and protracted maintenance periods. Rather than accepting vague official explanations, the Lithuanian authorities are now demanding full disclosure on radionuclide emission limits, the publication of all international expert mission recommendations, and transparent reports on their implementation. Such data, the regulator insists, is indispensable for the accurate modelling and forecasting of potential radioactive releases in the event of a major accident. 

Meanwhile, Minsk shows no signs of slowing its nuclear expansion. Following the 2023 commissioning of the second unit at the Ostrovets plant, the regime signalled a further push in 2025 with plans for a third reactor. According to Energy Minister Denis Moroz, this new unit is slated for operation between 2035 and 2038. This trajectory has drawn a sharp rebuke from Vilnius. Lithuanian presidential adviser Deividas Matulionis said that the third unit represents a qualitative leap in the regional threat level. He warned that, while the first two reactors were already a source of deep concern, a further expansion would pose an even more formidable security challenge. 

According to Evgeny Makarchuk, an energy security specialist at the International Strategic Action Network for Security, this stance has deprived Belarus of access to the Nord Pool power exchange market. Under different political conditions, Belarus could export up to 2.1 billion kWh per year, generating revenue of 230 million euros. Instead, the BelNPP generates a huge surplus of electricity with nowhere to sell. Ukraine is closed due to the war, and Poland maintains a strict sanctions regime. While this surplus could theoretically flow eastward, Russia itself suffers from excess capacity and has no need for Belarusian kilowatts at market prices.  

“Strategic isolation has effectively turned Belarus into an energy island,” notes Sukhiy. The Ostrovets plant was originally conceived as a profitable route to Western markets, but the collapse of the BRELL network has turned it into a structural dead end. Instead of a bridge to Europe, the plant now functions as an isolated asset, operating solely within the Kremlin’s broader energy and political manoeuvres. 

Tightening control 

Technical incidents at the Ostrovets plant have sparked concern in Europe about whether Minsk has learned the lessons of Chernobyl. The regime’s secrecy and the lack of independent monitoring only exacerbate the atmosphere of persistent mistrust between Belarus and its neighbours. 

The tension further increased at the end of 2025, when the Russian defence ministry announced the deployment of the nuclear-capable hypersonic Oreshnik missile system in Belarus. Lukashenko presented the move as a means to ensure Belarus’s security.  

According to Lithuania’s national security threat assessment, the BelNPP has now become the central element of the regional threat. By deploying the Oreshnik missile system and tactical nuclear weapons in Belarus, the Kremlin has effectively blurred the lines between civilian energy production and aggressive military strategy. Lithuanian intelligence emphasises that the persistent lack of transparency regarding the plant’s operations and the proposed expansion of the facility are being used as psychological leverage against Vilnius. 

Beyond the safety concerns, officials view Russia’s state-owned giant, Rosatom, as a tool of geopolitical influence.  

Belarus has effectively been placed on a 10-billion-dollar geopolitical leash.

The (r)evolution that never happened 

Today, the BelNPP has become a monument to Belarus’s authoritarian regime. Dmitry Kuchuk, an environmental policy advisor to exiled opposition leader Sviatlana Tsikhanouskaya, believes this is a problem the future must solve. “You can’t just flip a switch and close it immediately. We will need a serious audit of the plant’s condition and safety before deciding its fate,” he says. As the former head of the Belarusian Green Party, Kuchuk personally advocates for the plant’s closure: “The sooner the better for the budget and the country’s development”. 

However, the Belarusian government has turned a deaf ear to the warnings of experts and environmental activists. “Belarusians are categorically opposed to nuclear power, and it must be understood that the decision to build the NPP was made by Lukashenko alone. He ignored even his own Academy of Sciences, whose experts argued that the country simply did not need such a plant and that existing capacities were sufficient,” says Kuchuk. 

Belarusian authorities did initially signal a pivot towards renewable energy development. In 2010, the country passed a law on renewable energy sources (RES), which aimed to incentivise producers and provide tax breaks. However, the subsequent pivot toward nuclear energy effectively brought the development of renewables to a standstill.  

In 2018, a study titled “Energy [r]evolution”, supported by the Heinrich Böll Foundation, showed that Belarus had the potential to reach 92 per cent renewable energy by 2050. The report examined two distinct scenarios. The first was based on existing state strategies, which prioritised natural gas and the expansion of nuclear power. The second was a “revolutionary” scenario focused on the aggressive development of solar and wind energy. “Our research demonstrated that Belarus possesses enough potential to transition to 92 per cent renewable energy by 2050. And that was based on technology available back in 2018,” says Sukhiy from the Green Belarus Alliance. “Naturally, such a transition requires significant upfront investment. However, these calculations show that, in the long term, this path is more economically viable than the scenario chosen by the state.” 

It is symbolic that Belarus’s first wind turbine – a 250-kilowatt Nordex unit standing 50 meters tall – appeared in 2000 as part of a project to assist those resettled from the Chernobyl zone. It was installed near the village of Stakhoutsy, close to Lake Narach in the country’s most pristine region. By road, it stands just 60 kilometres from the BelNPP – and even closer as the crow flies. 

Path to a green future 

Belarusian civil society, now largely operating from abroad, is rethinking national and regional security through the prism of energy. “It’s impossible to build a free state if its ‘energy heart’ runs on foreign fuel, is serviced by foreign specialists, and is burdened with foreign debt,” proclaims Sukhiy. 

“By creating a vision of a green Belarus and working on a green transition, we are laying the foundation for Belarus’s independence, reducing its critical dependence on Russian energy resources, and ensuring that Belarus becomes a modern country rather than remaining stuck in the past,” she adds.  

Central and Eastern Europe’s post-communist history suggests that during any democratic transition, Moscow might attempt to crush reforms by “turning off the tap”. In 2006, after the “Orange Revolution” brought a pro-Western government to power in Ukraine, tensions between Moscow and Kyiv escalated. Russia’s Gazprom cut off gas supplies to Ukraine following a dispute over pricing and debt. Another incident occurred in 2009, when Russia stopped all gas flows through Ukraine to Europe.  

In Moldova, after pro-European forces came to power in 2020-2021, Russia sharply increased gas prices, forcing Chișinău to seek new suppliers, including those in Romania and other EU countries. This crisis was a clear instrument of political pressure. 

However, according to energy security expert Makarchuk, “this does not mean that the future is predetermined. Crises occur where there is a lack of preparedness. If we start acting now, the consequences can be mitigated, and disasters for the people and the economy can be avoided.” 

To achieve this, Belarus will have to make a series of critical strategic decisions in the very first hours of its genuine independence from the Kremlin. The diversification of the energy market and a departure from total reliance on Russian energy sources must become a prerequisite for any future democratic transition. 

“Technically, I see opportunities to completely break our dependence on Russia. We have our own oil refineries capable of processing up to 24 million tons of oil, while our domestic market requires only six million tons. We have assessed our oil import capacity: approximately 1.5 million tons can be obtained from Lithuania and about two million from Poland. All of this can be processed to produce gasoline, diesel fuel, and fuel oil. Furthermore, crude oil and petroleum products can be imported by rail,” Makarchuk notes. 

Ultimately, securing Belarus’s sovereign future depends on sustained solidarity and strategic cooperation among its neighbours. This path cannot be taken in isolation; it requires coordinated regional efforts and strong support from the broader European community to transform Belarus’s energy independence from a national dream into a pillar of European security. 

This will be difficult, given that Belarus has sided with Russia, distancing itself from and alienating its neighbours. However, experts will not insist on a green transition for Belarus.“The assertion that Belarus cannot exist without Russian oil and gas is not entirely accurate. Yes, the stakes are high: in 2023, the gap between preferential prices for Russian gas and global market prices was 4.2 billion dollars. However, with sound policy, careful preparation, and supply diversification, the crisis can be overcome. It need not be a catastrophe for the Belarusian people,” Makarchuk adds. 

As for the Ostrovets power plant, experts agree that its presence during Belarus’s transformation will help balance the country’s energy system. However, in the long term, Belarus can meet its energy needs without the plant, especially given the country’s strong potential to develop renewable energy sources. Whether the political will for such a major change exists, however, is another question.