Lorraine Williamson
Beneath the deep waters of the Atlantic, hundreds of kilometres off the Galician coast, lies a toxic inheritance few are willing—or able—to address.
From the late 1940s through the early 1980s, European powers including France, the UK, and the Netherlands quietly offloaded tens of thousands of barrels of radioactive waste into the ocean’s depths, assuming that out of sight meant out of danger.
The chosen dumping ground, around 400 to 600 kilometres from Cape Finisterre, became a de facto nuclear graveyard. By some estimates, over 220,000 barrels containing 140,000 tonnes of radioactive material were sunk to the seafloor. At the time, the sea seemed the most viable solution to an ever-growing nuclear problem.
But what began as a convenient disposal method has become a lingering environmental and geopolitical puzzle—one that remains unsolved nearly half a century later.
From silence to outcry
By the early 1980s, growing concern over the consequences of deep-sea nuclear dumping erupted into public protest. In 1981, a Galician fishing boat joined forces with Greenpeace to expose a Dutch ship in the act. Their efforts captured global attention and prompted further expeditions, including a notable mission by Greenpeace’s Sirius vessel, which captured underwater footage of leaking barrels scattered along the seabed.
Mounting pressure and growing environmental awareness eventually forced change. In 1996, the London Protocol formally outlawed the dumping of nuclear waste at sea. But by then, the damage was already embedded in the ocean floor.
A new deep-sea mission in 2025
Nearly 30 years after the ban, the French research vessel L’Atalante returned to the depths in summer 2025 to uncover what still lies beneath. Led by oceanographer Javier Escartín, the mission has so far identified more than 3,000 barrels sitting 4,000 metres below the surface—just 1.3% of what experts believe may be down there.
Water, sediment, and marine life samples are now being tested to determine the scale of radioactive contamination. Preliminary results show no immediately dangerous radiation levels, but full analysis will take months. The uncertainty only deepens the sense of unease.
A ticking ecological question mark
Francisco del Pozo from Greenpeace Spain warns that the barrels are deteriorating. Over time, even the thickest metal casings corrode, especially under the pressure and salt of the deep sea. As the integrity of these containers breaks down, radioactive particles risk leaking into surrounding waters—posing unpredictable risks to marine ecosystems and, potentially, human health through the food chain.
Del Pozo has called for a comprehensive EU-led investigation and a unified strategy. “We need a complete map. Only then can we begin to talk about solutions,” he said.
The impossible dilemma
One of the proposed solutions—raising the barrels from the seabed—is fraught with technical and ecological risks. Disturbing decades-old containers could hasten leaks or even trigger larger contamination events. On the other hand, leaving them untouched is equally unsettling. As Del Pozo admits, “We don’t know what the safest answer is. Right now, there is no clear solution.”
Legacy of a nuclear age
The rush to harness nuclear power in the mid-20th century was marked by optimism, ambition—and a striking lack of foresight. Waste, the industry’s inconvenient by-product, was handled with a short-term mindset. Back then, dumping it at sea was legal, routine, and rarely questioned.
Today, the same waste sits corroding at the bottom of the Atlantic, silently challenging governments, scientists and environmentalists to face the consequences of outdated decisions.
Pressure rising, time sinking
With environmental consciousness at an all-time high and ocean health already under strain from warming, plastic pollution, and overfishing, the submerged radioactive legacy off Galicia’s coast presents a problem Europe can no longer afford to ignore.
The barrels may be out of sight—but they are no longer out of mind.
Source: Infobae