In autumn 2024 Russia mounted intensive air strikes on Ukraine’s energy network, damaging generation sites and prompting fears over the safety of nuclear plants. Several reactors were disconnected from the grid and one was taken offline entirely, heightening concerns about the consequences of prolonged power loss.
“It wasn’t that we were scared,” says Shaun Burnie, a veteran nuclear specialist with Greenpeace who has worked in some of the world’s most radioactive places. “It was that we were terrified.” Burnie warned that if external power is cut for an extended period, backup diesel generators may be unable to sustain cooling systems indefinitely. Nuclear reactors and spent-fuel stores depend on continuous electricity to drive cooling; if both grid supply and backup fail, overheating becomes a real risk.
Ukraine’s memories of Chernobyl add urgency. On 26 April 1986 a reactor at the Chernobyl plant exploded, forcing mass evacuations and contaminating wide areas. “Chernobyl is part of our collective memory. Everyone has family or community stories about it,” says Lena Kondratiuk, 25, from Rivne. “And now, during the war, this meaning has become even more real.”
Despite the attacks, worst-case nuclear scenarios have been avoided so far. Nuclear power still provides more than half of Ukraine’s electricity and the country has plans to build more reactors. But the wider energy system has been battered: more than half of the country’s generation capacity has been damaged or destroyed, and the International Atomic Energy Agency has described the situation as “the world’s biggest threat to nuclear safety.”
The vulnerability lies partly in the concentration of large, centralized plants—nuclear, coal or gas—where a single strike can eliminate huge amounts of output. That fragility has pushed policymakers, companies and communities to consider decentralization and diversification. Renewables and distributed generation are harder to disable in a single attack, quicker to repair or replace, and can be deployed rapidly.
“A single missile might take out a 250-megawatt coal plant, while it would take many more strikes to remove the same capacity in wind,” says Chris Aylett, an energy specialist at Chatham House. Solar installations, too, often sustain damage that can be fixed by swapping panels rather than rebuilding entire facilities.
Those practical advantages are driving change on the ground. Ukrainian energy companies, NGOs and local communities have increased investment in rooftop solar and small-scale systems. Hospitals, schools and public buildings have received panels and batteries, and in 2025 Ukraine added enough solar capacity to power more than a million homes even while under attack.
Kondratiuk is part of that shift. She joined the environment NGO Ecoclub as a volunteer at 18 and became a renewables analyst in 2020. After the full-scale invasion, Ecoclub moved from advocacy to delivery, launching the Solar Aid for Ukraine campaign as blackouts became routine.
At 21 she began managing projects. “I agreed to it because of the war, because I understand that, for example, I can die tomorrow,” she says. Her work has taken her across the country, including to Mykolaiv, about 60 kilometres from the front line. On an early visit the city was under shelling and reliant on diesel generators; she now travels regularly to install solar and battery systems for communities under strain.
For many Ukrainians these systems are lifelines rather than luxuries. Kondratiuk has helped bring nearly 90 solar installations online. Hybrid solar-plus-storage units keep water utilities running during outages, let hospitals continue essential services, and allow children to charge phones to stay in contact with relatives. In one care home for women with mental-health and neurological conditions, solar power removed the need for staff to wake at 4:00 a.m. to cook before power cuts; with electricity available, patients could be served hot food on a regular schedule.
The immediate priority for Ukraine is keeping the lights on. Nuclear power has been indispensable: without it, the country would be in a far worse position given the destruction of fossil-fuel capacity. Yet the conflict has underscored the advantages of spreading infrastructure geographically, diversifying generation with renewables and storage, and stockpiling standardized parts so repairs take weeks rather than months.
Aylett says Ukraine’s experience offers lessons for Europe about which assets are most exposed and what it takes to rebuild quickly under attack. The war, paired with other geopolitical strains on fuel supplies, strengthens the argument for rapid decarbonization and scaling up renewables in regions that lack domestic fossil fuels, while continuing efforts to cut greenhouse-gas emissions.
On the question of nuclear power’s future, Aylett is pragmatic: in countries where nuclear already supplies large amounts of low-carbon electricity, such as France, it makes sense to retain it while improving security. The overall aim is to expand low-carbon capacity and make all generation more resilient.
Kondratiuk, who was born long after Chernobyl, intends to keep working on energy and recovery. “I still want to help my country, still want to continue my work at the Ecoclub,” she says. “Even after the war and after our victory, there would be even more work compared to now because we have to rebuild the country and rebuild it in a greener and better way.”
Edited by Tamsin Walker. This story was adapted from an episode of DW’s Living Planet podcast.