This year marks 40 years since the Chornobyl disaster on 26 April 1986.

Chornobyl is the Ukrainian form, while Chernobyl reflects older Russian usage.

Professor Deborah Oughton at the Norwegian University of Life Sciences (NMBU) has researched nuclear accidents and their aftermath for decades. According to her, the most important lessons from Chornobyl were never really about radiation alone, News.Az reports, citing Partner Science Norway.

“One of the main things we learned was the scale of the social consequences,” she says. “That lesson is easy to forget.”

Effects beyond radiation

In the wake of Chornobyl, hundreds of thousands of people were evacuated and entire communities dismantled.

Evacuation led to long‑term changes in local communities, livelihoods, and social identity.

Many evacuees experienced stigma and discrimination. These were often rooted more in fear than in fact.

In some cases, even the fear of discrimination itself became an additional burden. Parents worried that their children would not be able to find partners.

“Don’t worry”

Early communication failures worsened the fallout.

In the beginning, the message from Soviet authorities and many European countries was don’t worry – everything is okay.

That quickly proved false, and there were serious consequences.

“When people realised they had been misled, it made trust almost impossible to restore,” says Oughton.

This lack of transparency complicated later work to deal with the accident.

For Oughton, the lesson is clear: Openness and transparency are not optional when accidents happen.

Another key lesson from Chornobyl is the importance of involving the affected communities from the very beginning and acknowledging their right to have a say.

“That can mean giving people real influence over protective measures rather than presenting them with decisions that are already made,” Oughton says.

Lessons from Norway

One of the most important lessons from Chornobyl – and Norway – is that it is possible to live in contaminated areas with the right measures.

Radioactive rain and snow fell over parts of central and southern Norway. Areas with heavy precipitation were the most contaminated.

This severely affected reindeer herders and sheep farmers whose animals grazed there. But livestock production was not abandoned. Instead, measures were implemented.

This included using feed additives that bind radioactive caesium, which significantly reduced radioactive uptake.

“Herders, farmers, the government, and researchers worked together, showing that long-term solutions work best when they are adapted locally and developed through those affected,” Oughton notes.

Similar countries, different responses

Even within western Europe, responses differed greatly.

Norway and the UK are similar in many ways, but with regards to the nuclear disaster, they turned out to be very different.

Norway, which does not operate commercial nuclear power plants, was relatively open about the fallout and its consequences. The accident did not threaten a domestic nuclear industry.The UK, by contrast, did operate nuclear power plants. Early messaging attempted to downplay risk, saying that there would be no impact on health or food production.

When conflicting information emerged, the public and farmers' reaction shifted from doubt to distrust, the researcher explains.

“The lesson is that uncertainty should be communicated, not hidden,” says Oughton.

Fukushima: A nuclear litmus test

This year it is also 15 years since the Fukushima nuclear accident in Japan.

“Fukushima was a real-time test of a modern society’s nuclear preparedness,” Oughton says.

In 2011, the dominant belief in Japan was that a serious nuclear accident was simply impossible. This shaped planning and emergency response.

“For example, there were no evacuation plans for people living in the immediate vicinity of the plant,” Oughton says.

Fixated on numbers

Japanese authorities also focused heavily on how much radiation people had received. These doses were often overestimated, leading to unnecessary and harmful measures.

These included prolonged evacuations and large‑scale removal of topsoil, which caused severe environmental damage.

“Numbers such as radiation doses are easy to focus on,” says Oughton. “Social consequences are much harder.”

The Japanese government underestimated the latter. The accident forced the locals to act fast. They adapted quickly while continuing to live their lives.

“Those living farther away did not learn in the same way,” Oughton says.

This knowledge gap fostered prejudice and left behind a pattern that can still be traced today, according to the researcher. Social problems related to stigma and discrimination emerged, in much the same way as in Ukraine.

Parents worried that radiation exposure, or just being associated with Fukushima, would affect their children’s future marriage prospects. The prejudices had economic consequences as well:

Monitoring shows that food produced in the region is safe, but for many years consumers from outside Fukushima avoided it, causing loss in profits for local farmers.

Has to work for real people

Another lesson is more personal: Many experts accuse people of being irrational in their response to radiation risks.

In reality, many factors influence people’s response, including fear and uncertainty, and they may not always follow official guidelines.

“Complex responses does not always mean that they are irrational. Emergency preparedness needs to anticipate a wide range of human responses,” argues Oughton.

She adds that emergency systems should work safely even when people make emotional decisions or do not behave optimally.

“Giving people clear information, real influence, and a sense of control can matter as much as managing radiation doses”, she says.

News.Az 

By Leyla Şirinova