Holtec’s and New Jersey’s nuclear gamble

How Gov. Sherrill and Trump are rolling out the red carpet for risky reactors

Holtec International couldn’t have picked a better time to revive nuclear power in New Jersey. While the Trump administration is dismantling federal nuclear safeguards, Gov. Mikie Sherrill and the Legislature have removed decades of state protections that kept new nuclear development in check.

Washington is weakening oversight. Trenton is removing roadblocks. Holtec is standing in the middle with its hand out for billions in subsidies, expedited permits, and permission to build four experimental small modular reactors (SMRs) on the shores of Barnegat Bay.

That isn’t energy policy. It’s a political and corporate partnership that puts profits ahead of public safety. The concern is that the power, if built, will go to data centers, not consumers.

For decades, New Jersey recognized a simple reality: If the federal government had no permanent solution for highly radioactive nuclear waste, the state shouldn’t be approving new reactors. That common-sense protection effectively blocked new nuclear construction for more than 40 years.

Now that safeguard is gone.

The repeal of New Jersey’s long-standing nuclear moratorium, the passage of the Power NJ Act, and the creation of a Nuclear Task Force have rolled out the red carpet for Holtec’s proposal at Oyster Creek. At the very moment the federal government is weakening nuclear oversight, New Jersey is making it easier to build new reactors.

They call it cutting red tape. It’s cutting oversight and safety. This will cut funding for renewable energy and energy efficiency, and the result is one of the biggest nuclear gambles in New Jersey history.

Gov. Sherrill changed the rules for Holtec

When New Jersey changed its long-standing policy against allowing new nuclear power plants, there was no public process, stakeholder engagement, public meetings, input from energy and environmental experts, a blue-ribbon panel, or involvement from the state’s own experts at the Department of Environmental Protection or Board of Public Utilities. The policy changes came from lobbyists from the nuclear industry and utilities. There was no analysis of the costs or impact on ratepayers.

Smaller does not mean affordable. The cost of SMRs is about equal to or more expensive per megawatt than large nuclear power plants. SMR projects so far are between $12 million and $18 million a megawatt; one prototype was $20 million a megawatt before it was canceled. The industry hopes it can mass-produce them and make them cheaper, but that is a long way from being proven.

When Oyster Creek closed in 2018, it marked the end of one of the oldest operating nuclear plants in the country. After decades of polluting Barnegat Bay by withdrawing billions of gallons of cooling water and dumping superheated water into the bay, destroying fish, larvae, and other marine life, the environment finally had a chance to recover.

The expectation was that Oyster Creek would be safely decommissioned and the site restored.

Instead, Holtec saw something different: an opportunity.

The company purchased Oyster Creek to decommission it. Now it wants to transform the site into the home of four SMR-300 reactors capable of producing roughly 1,200 megawatts of electricity, nearly double the generating capacity of the original plant. Holtec markets the project as a state-of-the-art nuclear-solar hybrid with battery storage.

The marketing sounds futuristic. The risks are not.

What changed wasn’t the technology. What changed was the politics.

Earlier this year, New Jersey repealed the 40-year-old law that prevented new nuclear plants from being built until a permanent federal radioactive waste repository existed. Instead of requiring a real solution for nuclear waste, the new law allows on-site storage in dry casks to satisfy state permitting requirements.

The waste problem didn’t disappear. The law did.

Then came the Power NJ Act, directing the state to procure at least 1,100 megawatts of new nuclear generation. Suddenly, Holtec’s proposal fit perfectly into the state’s new energy agenda. Executive Order No. 2 created a Nuclear Task Force to accelerate advanced nuclear technologies, making clear that the administration intends to fast-track projects rather than carefully scrutinize them. At the same time, New Jersey wants to fast-track development, including data centers.

Holtec didn’t change New Jersey’s laws. Politicians did. Holtec simply showed up with its hand out.

New Jersey looked the other way

The timing could not be more troubling.

As the Nuclear Regulatory Commission began weakening regulations for advanced reactors and microreactors, 10 states — including California, Massachusetts, Maryland, Oregon, Vermont, Washington, Delaware, Illinois and New Mexico — and the District of Columbia joined together to oppose those rollbacks and urge stronger federal oversight.

New Jersey was shamefully missing from the list.

When 10 states were pumping the brakes, New Jersey stepped on the accelerator. Instead of demanding stronger safety standards, Trenton aligned itself with expanding nuclear development. Rather than insisting that federal regulators strengthen oversight before approving new reactors, state leaders chose to clear the path for projects like Holtec’s. That should concern every resident of New Jersey.

The state isn’t simply approving a project. It is embracing a policy that weakens long-standing environmental protections while asking the public to trust an industry with a troubled history.

Maybe the wrong company for the wrong job

Holtec wants the public to focus on glossy renderings and promises about the future. The public should also examine the company’s past. This is not a company with a spotless record. This is also an untested program.

Holtec has paid millions of dollars to settle allegations involving fraudulent tax credit applications in New Jersey. State officials also moved to revoke hundreds of millions of dollars in tax incentives after determining the company allegedly provided inaccurate information regarding its eligibility.

The company’s financial problems have extended beyond New Jersey. Former executives have accused Holtec of allegedly concealing projected losses and presenting misleading financial information. Holtec itself has sued former executives over alleged financial misconduct involving millions of dollars in corporate investments.

Those are not minor bookkeeping disputes. They raise serious questions about corporate management, transparency, and accountability.

If a company wants billions in public support and responsibility for managing radioactive materials, the public has every right to ask whether it has earned that trust.

Holtec’s operational record raises even more concerns. During decommissioning activities, the company accumulated multiple Nuclear Regulatory Commission violations involving security failures, radioactive contamination issues, transportation problems, and oversight deficiencies.

At Oyster Creek, regulators cited Holtec after an armorer falsified mandatory weapons inspection records. Other violations involved radioactive material handling and compliance failures.

The company has also faced scrutiny over its handling of decommissioning trust funds, money that ratepayers spent decades contributing to so retired nuclear plants could be cleaned up safely. Those funds are supposed to protect the public, not become another corporate checking account.

Yet despite these warning signs, New Jersey is preparing to hand Holtec the keys to one of the most ambitious nuclear projects in the country. That isn’t caution. That’s wishful thinking.

Supporters argue that these reactors are the future. Maybe.

But New Jersey should not become the laboratory for an experimental technology built by a company whose record continues to raise questions. We should be learning from the past, not repeating it.

Holtec promises that its SMRs are safer because they are smaller. But small reactors still produce radioactive waste. Small reactors still require enormous public subsidies and rate hikes, and mall reactors can still have serious accidents.

And “small” doesn’t describe the financial risk that taxpayers and ratepayers will be asked to shoulder. Small doesn’t mean affordable. The costs are high, and you also lose economies of scale.

Calling something “advanced” doesn’t make it affordable. Calling something “innovative” doesn’t make it safe. And calling it “clean” doesn’t make the radioactive waste disappear.

Will the power be used to bail out data centers?

Trump’s NRC: From Nuclear Regulatory Commission to Nuclear Rollback Commission

Unfortunately, Holtec’s proposal is arriving at exactly the wrong time.

The Nuclear Regulatory Commission was created to regulate the nuclear industry, not promote it. Under the Trump administration, however, the NRC is rapidly becoming what I call the Nuclear Rollback Commission.

Instead of strengthening oversight after decades of lessons learned, the federal government is weakening it.

The NRC — the No Regulatory Commission — is moving toward “risk-informed” licensing under its new Part 53 regulations for advanced reactors. Supporters call it modernization. Critics call it deregulation. The new approach gives reactor developers greater flexibility while replacing long-standing prescriptive safety requirements with broader performance standards.

That may sound like bureaucratic jargon, but it has real consequences. Small modular reactor developers are also pushing to shrink traditional 10-mile emergency planning zones to little more than the plant boundary. Their argument is simple: Because these reactors are smaller, they pose less risk.

History teaches us that the nuclear industry has never been very good at predicting the unexpected. Accidents don’t read engineering reports.

At the same time, staffing reductions, budget cuts, and efforts to weaken the NRC’s independence threaten the agency’s ability to provide strong oversight. When regulators become partners instead of watchdogs, the public loses. They’re replacing independent oversight with industry oversight. That’s like letting students grade their own exams or letting the fox write the security plan for the henhouse.

New Jersey shouldn’t be embracing new nuclear development while the federal government is lowering the safety bar.

The SMR mirage

The nuclear industry markets small modular reactors as the next great technological breakthrough. We’ve heard this sales pitch before.

Every generation of nuclear technology has been promoted as cheaper, safer and more reliable than the last. Yet the industry continues to be plagued by delays, cost overruns, and demands for more taxpayer assistance.

SMRs remain largely unproven in commercial operation. Calling them “advanced” doesn’t eliminate radioactive waste. Calling them “modular” doesn’t eliminate engineering risks. Calling them “small” doesn’t make the consequences of failure small. In fact, building four reactors instead of one could create four separate sources of radioactive waste, four security challenges and four sets of operating risks.

Holtec wants New Jersey to become the proving ground for this new technology. New Jersey should not become anyone’s guinea pig.

The waste problem never went away

One thing never changes in the nuclear debate. Supporters talk endlessly about generating electricity. They rarely talk about what happens after the electricity is generated.

Every reactor produces highly radioactive spent fuel that remains dangerous for generations. More than 70 years after the birth of the commercial nuclear industry, the United States still has no permanent repository for high-level radioactive waste. Instead, spent fuel sits in dry casks at reactor sites across the country and at this site.

The repeal of New Jersey’s nuclear moratorium didn’t solve the waste problem. It simply changed the law so politicians could pretend the problem had been solved.

Under Holtec’s proposal, highly radioactive waste could remain indefinitely on the shores of Barnegat Bay, a coastal ecosystem already threatened by sea-level rise, stronger storms, flooding, and climate change.

We shouldn’t be adding more long-term environmental risks to one of New Jersey’s most fragile coastal regions. You don’t solve radioactive waste by changing the definition of “temporary.”

Heads they win. Tails taxpayers lose.

If the nuclear industry truly believed nuclear power was inexpensive, it wouldn’t constantly be asking taxpayers to finance it. Nuclear power has survived on subsidies, tax credits, loan guarantees and ratepayer bailouts for decades.

Now there’s another loophole that most people have never heard of. The Price-Anderson Act limits the nuclear industry’s financial liability in the event of a catastrophic accident. While the law requires the industry to contribute very little to a compensation system, critics have long argued that damages from a worst-case nuclear disaster could far exceed those limits, leaving taxpayers exposed to enormous costs.

Even private insurance companies generally exclude nuclear accidents from standard homeowner and business policies because the financial risk is so great.

If nuclear power is so safe, why do they need a liability waiver?

Insurance companies, whose business is evaluating risk, don’t want to insure nuclear accidents. Yet politicians expect taxpayers to assume that risk instead.

The nuclear industry loves talking about free markets — right up until it’s time to pay the bill.

Privatize the profits. Socialize the risk.

The real clean energy future

Every dollar spent subsidizing another generation of nuclear reactors is a dollar not invested in renewable energy, battery storage, energy efficiency, offshore wind, solar power, or modernizing our electric grid.

Renewable energy can be deployed faster. Energy efficiency saves electricity immediately. Battery technology continues to improve every year.

None of those technologies leave behind radioactive waste that remains hazardous for centuries.

If New Jersey is serious about combating climate change, we should be investing in the energy technologies of tomorrow, not doubling down on yesterday’s mistakes.

This isn’t a choice between clean energy and dirty energy. It’s a choice between investing in truly renewable energy or pouring billions more into another radioactive boondoggle.

New Jersey deserves better

Holtec’s proposal is about far more than four new reactors at Oyster Creek. It is about the direction New Jersey chooses for its energy future.

The Trump administration is weakening federal oversight. The NRC is lowering safety barriers. Trenton has repealed long-standing protections, created incentives for new nuclear development, and rolled out the red carpet for Holtec.

Washington is weakening the referee. Trenton is changing the rules. Holtec is ready to cash the check. We’ve seen this act before.

First come the promises. Then come the subsidies. Then come the delays, the cost overruns, and the demands for even more taxpayer money. And the radioactive waste remains long after the politicians have left office and the corporate executives have collected their bonuses.

New Jersey should not become the proving ground for an experimental nuclear industry or the testing ground for weakened federal oversight.

Renewable energy is cheaper, more affordable, and safer. Solar costs $800,000 to $1 million a megawatt, while wind is $2 million a megawatt and nuclear is $12 million to $18 million a megawatt. Operation and maintenance are also much cheaper with renewable energy.

We should be leading the nation in renewable energy, energy efficiency, battery storage, and a modern electric grid, not creating another generation of radioactive waste on the shores of Barnegat Bay.

Nuclear power remains the most expensive and dangerous way to boil water. No amount of political spin, corporate lobbying or glossy marketing brochures can change that.

It wasn’t green yesterday. It isn’t green today or renewable, and it never will be green if it glows.