The nuclear question

By Herman M. Lagon

Every Filipino knows this feeling. The electric bill lands on the table, someone opens it, and the room suddenly grows quieter. Then comes the familiar joke: “Basi pwede na lang ta indi mag-ref.” Everyone laughs but no one thinks it’s amusing. A couple of days later, the power goes off again. An online class locks up. A hospital goes on generator. A little bakery is wondering whether another batch of dough will be wasted. We whine a little, post a meme or two, and move on with our day since pricey electricity and brownouts are a fact of life. We can all agree on one thing – we need cheaper, more reliable power. The difference is that we disagree when we ask where it should come from. Coal pollutes the air. Gas isn’t going to last forever. Hydropower requires rain. The breeze waits for the wind. Solar calls it a day when the sun sets. Meanwhile, nuclear power has baggage that many Filipinos have never really unpacked. So when President Ferdinand Marcos Jr. recommended revisiting nuclear power in his fifth State of the Nation Address, he rekindled a debate that never truly faded.

The problem is, we think of the subject as having two responses. Yes or no. But life is seldom that straightforward. Some say nuclear energy is the savior, others the devil, but it is neither. Running a country’s power system is a lot like running a family. You do not put all your hopes in one source of income because life has a way of surprising you. The same is true for energy. The real question is not whether nuclear power is good or bad. It is whether the Philippines—with all its strengths, weaknesses, and unfinished lessons—is finally ready to handle it well.

That question always brings us back to Bataan. It almost has to. Mention nuclear power in this nation and someone will eventually bring up the Bataan Nuclear Power Plant. BNPP is not only a building for many Filipinos. It’s a story – great dreams, political upheaval, charges of corruption, safety concerns, and decades of paying for a plant that never generated energy. Some believe it remains one of our most expensive mistakes. Others see it as an opportunity politics never allowed to happen. Both views are shaped by history. Neither should be brushed aside.

I have carried this question with me for years, long before it returned to this year’s SONA. Back when I was teaching Physics, I liked asking my students a simple question: If you were the country’s Energy Secretary in 2050, how would you power the Philippines? The room would immediately come alive. Some defended geothermal because it was ours. Others chose solar because sunshine is free. A few stood by coal because, for all its faults, it kept the lights on. Then there were the students who dared to defend nuclear power, knowing full well they were in the minority. I never graded them on which answer they chose. I graded how they arrived at it. By the end of class, they usually discovered the same thing. Every energy source gives us something and asks something in return. Cheap can become costly. Clean can become unreliable. Even the safest technology can become dangerous if the people running it cut corners. Good public policy is rarely about perfect choices. More often, it is about making the best possible decision among imperfect ones.

That lesson feels even more relevant today. The need for electricity is increasing. Homes have more appliances than a generation ago. Businesses use digital technology. Steady power is essential for industries to continue creating jobs. Renewable energy should keep increasing, and it deserves to. But even the Department of Energy knows renewables, for the time being, can’t always deliver the 24/7 electricity a rising economy needs. That’s why Small Modular Reactors, or SMRs, are part of the discourse. Advocates point to enhanced safety and smaller footprints. Their critics remind us that many designs are still relatively new and that no technology can make up for weak regulation. On that point, both sides actually agree. Nuclear power is not just an engineering project. It is a test of governance.

That is also why this should never become a contest between nuclear power and renewable energy. This isn’t an either/or proposition. The most advanced energy systems in the world typically utilize multiple sources, as each source has its own advantages and disadvantages. Renewable power is growing, and nuclear power could assist deliver reliable electricity. But nuclear power also requires huge investments, careful handling of waste and promises that go beyond the current crop of leaders. The country has no permanent facility for high-level radioactive waste, yet. Any future program would require transparent regulation, independent oversight, and decades of consistency. Those are not technical details. They are the whole point.

Perhaps that is why this conversation belongs not only in Malacañang or Congress but also inside our classrooms. The best teachers know that education is not just about teaching facts. It is about teaching judgment. A science teacher explaining nuclear fission is also teaching students how to weigh evidence before emotion. A history teacher discussing BNPP is also teaching accountability and institutional memory. A school leader who welcomes respectful disagreement is teaching democracy. The study of Belmonte et al (2023) among Filipino Generation Z respondents suggests that knowledge—not fear, and not blind optimism—is the strongest predictor of support for nuclear energy. Maybe that is the bigger lesson. The real issue is not simply whether Filipinos trust nuclear power. It is whether they trust the institutions that will manage it.

President Marcos deserves credit for putting this difficult issue back on the table. The country’s energy problem is too serious to ignore. But reopening the discussion is only the beginning. Trust is earned slowly. It grows through transparency, independent regulation, honest public consultation, and leaders willing to explain not only the benefits but also the risks. Supporters should resist treating nuclear energy as a magic solution. Critics should remain open to the possibility that technology has changed. The harder question is whether we have changed enough as a nation to use it wisely.

Maybe this has never been just about nuclear energy. It is about whether we have learned to face difficult decisions with wisdom instead of instinct. While we have spent decades debating the fate of one power plant, life has moved on. Families continue paying higher electric bills. Businesses continue absorbing higher costs. Our demand for energy continues to grow. Whether nuclear becomes part of the solution or not matters less than how we arrive at that decision. If it comes from careful study, transparent leadership, and public trust, we can live with the outcome. If it comes from fear or political convenience, we may simply repeat the mistakes of the past. When we flip the switch years from now, I hope the light that comes on reflects not only better technology, but also better judgment.

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Doc H fondly describes himself as a “student of and for life” who, like many others, aspires to a life-giving and why-driven world grounded in social justice and the pursuit of happiness. His views do not necessarily reflect those of the institutions he is employed or connected with.