Physical Address
Pearly Beach
Western Cape
7220
The Pearly Beach Fishing Club was packed to the rafters.
Not just full in the physical sense — though it was that too — but charged.
Peter Becker, introduced not as a nuclear engineer but as someone who “understands the science” and who has spent 15 years engaged in anti-nuclear activism was in attendance. He began by refusing the easy framing.
“I’m not going to say, is nuclear a good thing or a bad thing? That’s a meaningless question,” he told the room .
The only meaningful question, he argued, is whether nuclear makes sense in the South African context.
A Community Asking Practical Questions
Contrary to caricatures of environmental meetings, this was not a room of slogans. The residents’ questions were detailed, pragmatic and based in lived reality.
- What is the likelihood of a plant actually being built at Bantamsklip?
- Why was this site selected — and on what criteria?
- What about the marine protected areas and thermal impacts on coastal ecosystems?
- Where will nuclear waste be stored — and for how long?
- What happens to housing, to property values, to jobs, to social cohesion?
- What is the timeline? Where exactly are we in the process?
And underneath it all was a deeper anxiety: can this process be trusted?
Becker argued that transparency has been historically weak. He referenced cabinet minutes suggesting that project costs should not be disclosed until procurement is complete . He also described the difficulty of obtaining safety documentation regarding Koeberg, which required legal action before disclosure.
Whether one agrees with him or not, the theme resonated. Trust — in regulators, in ministers, in long-term planning — is fragile in South Africa. And nuclear power, perhaps more than any other energy source, demands trust.
Jobs, But For Whom?
One of the most pointed exchanges concerned employment.
A nuclear plant, Becker said, typically requires between 3 000 and 9 000 workers during peak construction . That labour force would not come from Pearly Beach or Gansbaai alone. It would be imported.
Construction work tends to draw in large numbers of mostly male migrant labourers , altering the social and economic fabric of small communities. After construction, many may not leave — creating longer-term pressures on housing and services .
Highly specialised jobs, meanwhile, are often filled by international contractors. Even today, Becker noted, foreign specialists are required for certain major refurbishment work at Koeberg.
For a coastal town built on fishing, tourism and a fragile ecological balance, the economic transformation would be profound — whether welcomed or feared.
The Process Is Long — And Political
South Africa’s National Environmental Management Act (NEMA) requires a full Environmental Impact Assessment (EIA) for a project of this magnitude . That process includes scoping, specialist studies, and public participation. Every substantive question raised by members of the public must be answered.
Becker emphasised that this is where communities have real leverage.
Past nuclear EIAs have stretched over many years, in some cases requiring repeated revisions under public scrutiny. But the lesson was double-edged: the timeline depends on public engagement.
If communities are organised and technically informed, the process can slow, reshape or halt projects. If not, it can move faster than expected.
And the selection of Bantamsklip itself? The original coastal site studies date back to the apartheid era — when environmental priorities and demographic realities were very different. Whether those assumptions remain valid in 2026 is likely to become a central issue.
The Bigger Question: Is Nuclear Even Necessary?
Perhaps the most strategic argument of the night was economic rather than environmental.
Every major energy modelling exercise in South Africa, Becker claimed, has found that nuclear power does not appear in the least-cost electricity scenario. He cited international levelised cost of electricity (LCOE) comparisons showing nuclear among the most expensive generation options.
In a country blessed with some of the highest solar irradiation levels in the world, and rapidly falling battery storage costs, the argument is that future investment may lie elsewhere.
But here the debate sharpens.
South Africa’s government has repeatedly signalled a strategic commitment to nuclear as part of long-term energy security and decarbonisation. Nuclear plants offer baseload generation, low operational emissions, and long design lives. Proponents argue that renewables alone cannot stabilise the grid without extensive storage and transmission upgrades.
The state appears determined to keep nuclear on the table.
The question, then, is not whether nuclear will be discussed. It is whether communities like Pearly Beach will shape how — and where — it unfolds.
Living With Risk
When Becker asked whether there would ever be another major nuclear accident somewhere in the world, no one raised a hand to say “never”.
His point was statistical and sobering: rare events still happen. And the consequences, however unlikely, are not comparable to most other industrial risks.
For a tourism-dependent coastline, perception alone could be devastating. As he put it, consumer decisions are emotional. People may simply choose another beach.
That is the undercurrent at Pearly Beach. This coastline is not abstract policy space. It is home, livelihood, ecosystem, inheritance.
A Long Way Off — But Not Theoretical
One thing was clear by the end of the evening: this is not imminent. The regulatory processes are lengthy. Financing decisions are complex. Site approvals are contested.
But it is also not fantasy.
Environmental scoping has begun. Nuclear remains embedded in national planning conversations. International vendors — from Russia, China and elsewhere — continue to market small modular and large-scale reactors aggressively.
For Pearly Beach, the meeting was an early chapter, not a conclusion.
The sea outside the Fishing Club has rolled in and out for millennia. Whether concrete containment domes will one day rise above those dunes remains uncertain.
But one thing is not uncertain: the people of this coastline intend to be heard and if the turnout is anything to go by, they will be heard.
