While global discourse frequently focuses on nuclear threats associated with Russia, far less attention is directed toward nuclear risks emerging from within the country itself. Ageing power plants, some with reactors exceeding half a century in service, present significant operational and safety challenges.
Concurrently, Russia expands its nuclear footprint internationally, constructing plants across Turkey, Bangladesh, and beyond, promoting nuclear energy as a sustainable alternative to fossil fuels. President Vladimir Putin routinely engages foreign leaders on existing and prospective projects. Yet a critical question—what becomes of these facilities at the end of their operational lives—remains largely unaddressed.
During the Soviet era, nuclear infrastructure was deployed across the union, including in the Lithuanian republic. Following Lithuania’s European Union accession, the country was mandated to shut down the two Soviet-designed reactors at the Ignalina Nuclear Power Plant. The first unit ceased operations in 2004, the second in 2009. Decommissioning has proven extraordinarily expensive and time-consuming; by 2020, estimated costs had reached 3.3 billion euros, with only 49 percent of planned work completed. The timeline, originally slated for 2038, now extends to 2049.
Rosenergoatom, the state nuclear operator, plans to decommission 35 reactors. Its internal projections indicate a funding gap of approximately 18.7 billion euros against a total estimated cost of 21 billion euros. However, historical precedent shows actual decommissioning expenses frequently surpass initial estimates; the Lubmin plant in Germany, for example, saw costs rise from an estimated 1 billion to 10 billion euros.
In the interim, Russia is deferring the most costly decommissioning stages, opting for long-term “safe storage” rather than immediate full dismantling. This approach transfers significant financial and technical burdens into the future, deferring rather than resolving the underlying problem—particularly concerning given the existing funding shortfall.
According to the Bellona Foundation, which cites Rosatom’s own projections, decommissioning and remediation obligations could exceed Rosatom’s net profit by approximately 2037. The longer decommissioning is delayed, the greater the associated financial, technical, and safety risks are likely to become.
Russia inherits roughly 774,000 cubic metres of radioactive waste from the Soviet period. The planned decommissioning of 36 reactor units across eight nuclear power stations is expected to generate an additional 800,000 cubic metres of waste, further straining already burdened storage and management infrastructure.
The country possesses practical experience with environmental liabilities left by departing industries. In the Kemerovo region, where roughly half of Russia’s coal is produced, mining waste mountains scar the landscape; some waste deposits ignite, polluting nearby communities. When coal companies face bankruptcy, the cost of remediation often falls to the state and local populations.
Unlike coal byproducts, nuclear waste and decommissioned reactors cannot be simply abandoned if funding ceases. As Russia’s economic situation deteriorates, the question of how to maintain, decommission, and ultimately dismantle these megaprojects grows increasingly urgent—particularly if the necessary capital becomes unavailable.
Nations currently hosting Russian nuclear projects should therefore develop contingency plans, or “Plan B,” in the event that maintenance or planned decommissioning cannot be fulfilled. Given the historical volatility of Russia’s political landscape, such preparedness is prudent.
The potential political consequences of nuclear mismanagement are significant. The Chornobyl disaster demonstrated how authorities’ attempts to suppress information and downplay accident scope fueled public distrust and social unrest during the late Soviet period. Today, continued neglect of nuclear waste and repeated decommissioning postponements could similarly generate environmental catastrophe conditions and social upheaval, especially if authorities again respond with silence or concealment.
These risks are compounded by Russia’s deteriorating economic climate. In pursuit of sustaining the war economy, the government has drastically weakened environmental regulations. National defence now dominates the federal budget, while environmental protection constitutes a marginal fraction of spending.
Russia’s broader pattern of environmental negligence raises doubts about its ability to manage ageing nuclear infrastructure. The country continues operating an ageing shadow fleet for oil transport, and the 2024 Black Sea oil spill—when two ageing Russian tankers released thousands of tonnes of fuel oil—was described as the region’s worst environmental disaster in decades. This trajectory suggests nuclear management may follow similarly concerning patterns.
These issues warrant attention at every international forum where Russia promotes its nuclear industry, such as climate conferences (COPs), where Russian nuclear lobbyists are common participants. While advancing its energy agenda, Russia simultaneously uses energy as a tool for political influence and power projection globally.
However, independent voices capable of scrutinizing Russia’s environmental impacts and safety record are increasingly silenced within the country. As documented by the Environmental Crisis Group, repression and the exodus of environmental experts and activists have severely weakened Russia’s environmental movement. Organizations such as Bellona and Greenpeace have been declared “undesirable,” while EcoDefence—which campaigned on nuclear and environmental issues—has been designated a “foreign agent,” and its members have faced criminal prosecution.
Environmental organizations outside Russia continue to highlight these risks. EcoDefence in exile, alongside German activists, campaigns against continued European cooperation with the Russian nuclear industry, which has largely escaped sanctions imposed on other energy sectors. According to Vladimir Slivyak, co-chair of EcoDefence, this continued dependence on Russian nuclear technology and services could create vulnerabilities that Russia might exploit for sabotage or political pressure.
The result is a shrinking capacity to independently monitor and expose environmental risks inside Russia, creating a dangerous information gap. A nuclear accident could occur, its scale concealed or downplayed by authorities, and the public might only learn the full extent years or decades later—mirroring the aftermath of the 1957 Mayak disaster, when the Soviet authorities concealed the incident and its consequences for more than three decades, leaving thousands to suffer long-term radioactive contamination.
Russia’s ageing infrastructure, weak environmental oversight, and growing reliance on secrecy present risks that extend well beyond its borders, making its nuclear industry an international concern, not merely an energy issue.
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