The nuclear industry is seeking to establish a beachhead in Canada’s North – literally – with a proposed floating nuclear power plant to serve remote Indigenous communities.

Westinghouse, a U.S.-based reactor vendor, has partnered with Prodigy Clean Energy, a Montreal-based company, to develop a transportable nuclear power plant. Essentially a barge housing one or more of Westinghouse’s eVinci microreactors, it would be built in a shipyard and moved thousands of kilometres by a heavy-lift carrier to its destination in the Far North. There it could be moored within a protected harbour, or installed on land near the shore.

Prodigy, which spent the past eight years developing the barge, markets it as a solution for delivering small modular reactors (SMRs) for coastal applications. To serve markets with larger energy appetites, Prodigy has partnered with another American vendor, NuScale, whose reactor produces far more electricity than the eVinci.

While both the eVinci and barge are still works in progress, the partners vow to have their first transportable nuclear plant operating by the end of this decade. “We are talking here about really starting a new industry,” said chief executive Mathias Trojer. “Prodigy solves the SMR deployment problem.”

Prodigy markets its product as an alternative to diesel-fired power plants, which power nearly all Northern remote communities. Diesel is unpopular because of its high emissions and the considerable logistical challenges and costs associated with shipping it to far-flung places.

Prodigy’s message dovetails with broader marketing efforts by the federal government and the nuclear industry to promote SMRs: The word “Indigenous” appeared in the government’s 80-page “SMR road map” more than 100 times, mostly in relation to how communities should be engaged with well in advance of specific project proposals. Yet tangible details on how nuclear technology might be deployed for the benefit of Indigenous peoples were almost entirely absent.

With Prodigy’s transportable plant, a more coherent vision is beginning to emerge. In March, Prodigy announced it had reached an agreement with Des Nëdhé Group, a development corporation of the English River First Nation in northern Saskatchewan. Des Nëdhé’s task will be to engage with First Nations, Inuit and Métis across Canada on potential installations.

“You have Indigenous people that want to be part of this process, that want to include other Indigenous people and treat them like value-added partners,” said Sean Willy, Des Nëdhé’s president and CEO. “Having Indigenous people talk to Indigenous people seems to work a lot better than bringing in a bunch of outside consultants and highly technical people. That’s why we’re part of this project.”

Floating reactors are marketed for other purposes, too. At a conference the International Atomic Energy Agency held late last year that focused on them, possibilities discussed included supplying power to offshore oil and gas platforms, island nations, desalination plants and ports.

But as the partners race to commercialize their transportable nuclear plant, a few Northern communities are already using renewables such as wind and solar to reduce diesel consumption. Will floating nuclear power plants be ready in time and at an affordable price?

Diesel dissatisfaction

Gjoa Haven, Sachs Harbour, Puvirnituq, Arviat: They’re four of the roughly 200 remote communities across Canada lacking a connection to North America’s continental electricity grid and natural gas pipelines. For many decades, diesel-fired plants were the only option. Their ubiquity stems in part from low upfront capital costs, and they’re relatively straightforward to maintain. They can respond rapidly to shifting demand – a quality that is particularly important for small communities. They have proved dependable in harsh environments.

Diesel “can be installed almost anywhere,” said Michael Ross, a professor at Yukon University who studies Northern energy needs. “It’s been around for many, many years, and we know how it works.”

And yet it’s woefully unpopular. According to one estimate, Northern communities consume an average of 680 million litres of diesel every year. Severe conditions in the North leave a short delivery window each summer; shipments may arrive only once or twice a year. (Nunavut alone consumes approximately 15 million litres of diesel annually.) To ensure those supplies last, communities often maintain large excess reserves, which are expensive. Operating costs are high. A 2015 Senate committee report found that many of the North’s diesel plants were built in the 1950s and 60s and had already surpassed their expected service lives, driving costs higher still.

These and other factors drive up Northerners’ power bills to levels that would incite outrage elsewhere. Yet were it not for heavy government subsidies, they’d pay between 10 and 30 times today’s rates, according to the Pembina Institute, a clean energy think-tank. It estimates direct subsidies at between $300-million and $400-million annually.

Environmental effects are also considerable. Diesel-fired plants emit sulphur dioxide, nitrogen oxides and particulate matter, impairing local air quality, along with greenhouse gases. Leaks and accidental spills occur frequently. Even so, as recently as a few years ago, the consensus was that there were no alternatives. The 2015 Senate committee report recommended Ottawa “assist in the acquisition, upgrading and installation of diesel generating facilities in remote off-grid northern communities.” In 2020, Qulliq Energy Corp. (which provides electricity throughout Nunavut) concluded in a report that “based on present technology, diesel generation is still the only reliable electricity generation source.”

The federal government thinks otherwise. The 2021 mandate letter for Minister of Natural Resources Jonathan Wilkinson ordered him to work with Indigenous partners to help replace diesel-fuelled power with renewables by 2030. Though nuclear technology is not renewable and was not mentioned, Mr. Wilkinson is an ardent supporter, and his government has funded SMR vendors. The federal government has already contributed $27.2-million to support the eVinci’s development.

Barging in

The underlying technology for floating nuclear power plants has a long history. The first nuclear-powered submarine entered service in the 1950s. Since then, reactors have powered American, British and Russian submarines as well as aircraft carriers and icebreakers.

Now a professor at OntarioTech’s nuclear engineering department, Kirk Atkinson previously helped assess reactors to power British submarines, and is an expert on marine nuclear applications. Space constraints are necessarily extreme in a sub, he said, and its crew must safely co-exist with a reactor. Subs must also survive extreme pressures and warfare. Some have sunk, he acknowledged, but for reasons that had nothing to do with nuclear technology.

“Hundreds of reactors have been operated at sea now, over 15,000 reactor hours of operation, with no problems, so the technology is extremely well proven,” he said. “Putting a reactor on a barge is an easier thing to do.”

Reactors have also been deployed in the Arctic for civilian applications, albeit exclusively by the Russians.

In Siberia, the four-reactor Bilibino nuclear plant was constructed during the 1970s and supplied electricity to the port of Pevek, hundreds of kilometres away. Its output was recently replaced by the Akademik Lomonosov, which is sometimes described not only as the world’s lone floating nuclear power plant, but also the only true functioning SMRs. (According to reports, more floating SMRs are being constructed to supply electricity to mines near Pevek, and there are proposals to deploy Chinese-built floating nukes in the South China Sea.)

The Akademik Lomonosov’s history, though, is not entirely encouraging. According to Mycle Schneider, a nuclear energy analyst and consultant who produces annual reports on the state of the industry, the original plan was to build the plant in less than four years and commission it in 2010; it was delivered a full decade late, and far over budget.

Putting out just five megawatts, the eVinci is considered a “microreactor.” Yet even five megawatts is a lot more than most Northern communities consume. Mr. Trojer said any deployed reactor would require a minimum amount of demand, but that could be achieved by linking it to multiple communities or mines.

“If you look at Northern Quebec, Labrador, Nunavut, Yukon area, there are a conglomerates of communities that can be connected by one single plant,” he said.

Prodigy’s plant promises to address many of diesel’s shortcomings – emissions, in particular – while at the same time replicating its desirable features. For example, Mr. Trojer said the eVinci will be able to ramp up and down instantaneously in response to shifting demand. Westinghouse says its reactor will be able to run for eight years or longer before refuelling, eliminating the need for unending fuel shipments. And Prodigy says its plant would have a capacity factor above 95 per cent, meaning it would operate more or less uninterrupted.

Even ballpark pricing for a five-megawatt transportable plant is unavailable. Cost is no small consideration here: Nuclear has traditionally been regarded as among the most expensive options for generating power. And according to the Pembina Institute, Indigenous communities and businesses have difficulty accessing capital.

Qulliq Energy, Nunavut’s sole electricity provider, generates nearly all the electricity for its approximately 15,000 customers using 25 diesel plants. It has demonstrated a willingness to consider nuclear power, but admits it can’t afford to pay for any alternatives. A 2020 report said the utility “will not be able to incorporate alternative energy sources into its generation supply mix unless significant funding becomes available.” It looked to the federal government to pay.

Qulliq’s media relations department did not respond to inquiries. Michael MacDonald, a spokesperson for the federal Natural Resources Department, said his department hadn’t provided funding to Qulliq for SMRs or for any other nuclear project. It did provide Qulliq with funding for a solar project in Kugluktuk.

Mr. Trojer insisted a floating eVinci’s power would be “very significantly more affordable” than diesel. M.V. Ramana, a professor at the University of British Columbia who specializes in nuclear issues and has studied the economic attractiveness of SMRs in remote applications, disagrees. He estimates costs for SMRs could be as much as 10 times higher than diesel.

“If you really are interested in lowering their costs, I think one would first try out a lot more renewable options, and seek to reduce the demand for diesel before you even think about nuclear,” he said.

Racing against alternatives

The earliest Northern communities to reduce their dependence on diesel have done precisely that – they’ve pursued renewables.

The White River First Nation’s Beaver Creek Solar Project, in Yukon, featured 1.9 megawatts of solar panels and 3.5 megawatt hours of battery storage capacity, and is expected to reduce diesel consumption by more than half. The Sree Vyàa solar project, in Old Crow, Yukon, aimed to reduce that community’s diesel consumption by 190,000 litres.

“Wind and solar seem to be the most sought-after solutions, in partnership with batteries,” said Prof. Ross, who has work on 11 Northern renewable energy projects.

But how far renewables can go in replacing diesel is disputed. Even if a community installs a significantly oversized array of wind turbines or solar panels, it will still experience periods of insufficient wind or daylight. Batteries remain expensive and can’t fully eliminate the need for backup diesel generation.

Such realities might create room for SMRs that could supply predictable, steady electricity. Prof. Ross said that since they aren’t commercially available, one can only evaluate vendors’ promises. And many technologies deployed in less extreme environments have failed in the Arctic. “But ultimately, I see SMR technologies as a potentially viable solution.”

Yet it might be difficult for SMRs to gain acceptance in a region with virtually no prior nuclear experience.

SMRs are often marketed as producers of “clean” energy, but this overlooks their radioactive wastes. In Southern Canada, the longstanding practice has been to store spent fuel in special facilities at nuclear power plants. But being saddled with a floating radiological hazard on its shoreline could be a worst-case scenario for a Northern community – around the world, there’s a long history of derelict vessels abandoned and left for others to deal with.

Mr. Willy dismissed concerns about the eVinci’s spent fuel.

“We’ve been managing nuclear spent fuel for years in this country, very pro-actively,” he said. “These are challenges that we’ve always overcome. But that’s going to be the biggest thing, is the misinformation that’s put out, and working with communities that want to go forward that get bombarded by negativity.”

Mr. Trojer said that by design, Prodigy’s plant would leave no waste behind. Upon decommissioning, its reactors and fuel would be removed and transported separately for disposal. (Spent fuel is already shipped internationally regularly, he added.) The barge itself would require decontamination, but could then be scrapped like any other vessel.

Handling spent fuel would be the responsibility of utilities in Southern Canada that already have the necessary experience, such as Ontario Power Generation or New Brunswick Power, Mr. Trojer said. He expects those utilities would also be involved in licensing applications and operating the plants – and as such would be vital partners.

But if radioactive waste did become stranded in the North, or a serious accident occurred, questions of responsibility would arise. With naval vessels, Prof. Atkinson said, the answer is unambiguous: “It is the nation’s government who underwrites any costs associated with something going wrong.”

But it’s never before been necessary to address such questions with floating civilian plants. The Canadian Nuclear Safety Commission has never regulated one, but said in a written response to questions that it has begin the process of developing regulatory expectations, alongside the transportation, fisheries and other federal departments. While Westinghouse has submitted the eVinci for a prelicensing review, the company “has not requested that marine applications be considered” as part of that process.

The Nuclear Waste Management Organization is responsible for long-term storage of spent fuel, and proposes to construct an underground disposal site known as a Deep Geological Repository to permanently store it. It says the repository would be able “to accommodate changes in technology,” but is currently focused on reactors already in the licensing process.

“We are aware of and actively monitoring additional technologies, including the eVinci, however these are still at a preliminary stage,” it said in a statement.

In a commentary published in April, the Macdonald-Laurier Institute, a think-tank, warned that Canada’s existing nuclear plants were constructed with little regard for First Nations rights and interests, a legacy that has left many First Nations wary of new nuclear projects. Many also carry “a high degree of culturally grounded concern about the potentially negative long-term effects of spent nuclear fuel on the environment,” the commentary said. (The institute is not opposed to nuclear power. It described microreactors like the eVinci as offering “tremendous opportunity” for remote applications.)

Other issues must be ironed out as well. All of Canada’s existing nuclear plants are large industrial facilities – the largest have thousands of employees and multiple parking lots. It’s not clear yet how many people would be required to operate a transportable nuclear plant equipped with an eVinci. Enticing highly skilled workers to tiny remote communities – and retaining them – could be a challenge.

Canada’s existing nuclear plants are patrolled by security teams. How many individuals with automatic weapons would be needed to patrol a transportable plant? This also has yet to be determined.

Citing waste concerns, the Assembly of First Nations, a national advocacy group, adopted a resolution in 2018 opposing construction and operation of SMRs anywhere in Canada. In March, Biigtigong Nishnaabeg First Nation (Ontario), Kabaowek First Nation (Quebec) and the Passamaquoddy Recognition Group (New Brunswick) were among hundreds of civil society groups who signed a declaration in Brussels against the backdrop of an international nuclear summit.

“Time is precious,” the declaration read, “and too many governments are wasting it with nuclear energy fairy tales.”

But English River First Nation, which has worked closely with the uranium mining industry since the 1960s, expects fellow Indigenous communities will recognize nuclear’s benefits. For one thing, hardly any of the old diesel plants have Indigenous ownership – but modern SMRs would.

“Equity is now table stakes,” Mr. Willy said. “But it’s not only equity, it’s having an Indigenous supply chain and training up our people to operate these over the long term.”

Prodigy’s 2030 target for its first deployment coincides with Mr. Wilkinson’s deadline for replacing all diesel-fuel power with renewables. It might be reasonable, though, to doubt that will be achieved: The Auditor-General complained in March that other federal initiatives aimed at Indigenous communities, addressing housing, policing and safe drinking water, had demonstrated a “distressing and persistent pattern of failure.”

Whether Ottawa’s ready or not, Prodigy is pushing forward. Mr. Trojer said his company has ensured all elements of the transportable nuclear power plant can be licensed under existing rules and regulations. And Prodigy has closely co-ordinated with delivery dates promised by partners like Westinghouse. It’s now speaking with Canadian shipyards in hopes of finding one to build the transportable nuclear power plant.

The 2030 target, he vowed, will be met. “Prodigy absolutely will meet this timeline.”