From her bedroom window in Duxbury, 87-year-old Mary Lampert can still trace the silhouette of the concrete structure six miles away. It is the Pilgrim Nuclear Power Station in Plymouth, a facility she has battled for nearly four decades.
Even though the plant shut down in 2019, Lampert still works six hours a day — updating reports, emailing state legislators, and scrutinizing the latest regulatory filings.
“That stuff is going to be bad for as long as the future extends, just as dinosaurs were in the past,” she said, referring to the 62 casks of spent nuclear fuel stored at the site. They sit exposed on a seaside hill, encased in half-inch stainless steel, waiting for a federal repository that may never come.
But David Butz, an 80-year-old retired engineer, views the same scene through a radically different lens.
“If you took all of that material from 60 years of generating electricity in the United States, you could fit it in a Walmart,” Butz said. To him, the waste isn’t a curse, but a feature. “Waste is an argument for nuclear — it is small, contained, and doesn’t fly around like coal ash.”
This winter, the two seniors find themselves on opposite sides of a new battle. The controversy is no longer about the closed Pilgrim plant, but about a sweeping energy bill proposed by Gov. Maura Healey.
A political shift
On Nov. 11, the Legislature’s Committee on Telecommunications, Utilities and Energy advanced Healey’s “Energy Affordability, Independence & Innovation Act” with a favorable 7-0 vote. While nominally aimed at reforming energy procurement and lowering costs, one provision has sparked a firestorm: it seeks to repeal a 1982 law that requires voter approval in a statewide vote for any new nuclear power plant construction.
The media’s interpretation is direct: the move clears the path for small modular reactors (SMRs) in Massachusetts. These facilities represent a new breed of nuclear infrastructure. Unlike massive traditional plants, these units are designed to be prefabricated in factories and then transported to the site for assembly.
Healey’s pivot is striking. As attorney general in 2019, she took a hard line against nuclear power, pressuring the Nuclear Regulatory Commission on Pilgrim’s safety and opposing clean energy subsidies for the plant. Now, as governor, she has become a proponent, prepared to bypass the state’s 5 million voters to push the plan forward.
“She drank the Kool-Aid,” Lampert said. “Simple as that … lobbying and advertising by the industry.”
Healey’s shift seems rooted in reality. Massachusetts faces an energy crisis, with electricity rates among the highest in the nation. With federal delays hindering offshore wind projects and a 2050 decarbonization deadline looming, the pressure is mounting. Studies by ISO New England, the grid operator, suggest that SMRs could significantly reduce the infrastructure footprint and capital costs required to meet the region’s climate goals.
Attitudes toward nuclear energy are shifting nationwide. Fueled by the artificial intelligence arms race, tech giants are increasingly pivoting to nuclear power to meet the insatiable electricity demands of data centers.
In May, the Trump administration signed a series of executive orders directing the NRC to lower regulatory barriers. The administration’s goal is ambitious: to expand U.S. nuclear capacity from its current 100 gigawatts to 400 gigawatts by 2050. While Democrats and Republicans have historically clashed over energy policy, they have found a rare bipartisan consensus on nuclear power.
“Massachusetts has the ingredients to be a world-class leader in advanced nuclear and fusion energy – technologies that provide affordable power, good jobs and significant economic development,” Healey said in a release. “There is nationwide interest in the potential of advanced nuclear and fusion energy technologies.”
She sees an opportunity: Nuclear power could help the state meet climate targets while attracting the booming AI industry and data centers, driving economic growth.
The shadow of the past
For Lampert, this feels like a reckless gamble. Her opposition stems not from ideology, but from observed history.
After moving to Duxbury in 1986, she noticed an unsettling concentration of cancer cases in her neighborhood — multiple myeloma, leukemia, and thyroid cancer. Working with epidemiologists, she analyzed data suggesting a correlation between proximity to the plant and leukemia rates.
She recalls the plant’s early years, when defective fuel rods and a lack of filtration led to radioactive releases. “I describe it as sex with a leaking condom,” she said.
While her husband, Jim, a lawyer at a top Boston firm, supported the family, Lampert dedicated herself to “Pilgrim Watch,” a pro-safety watchdog group.
Even with Pilgrim closed, Lampert argues the “sequel” is worse than the original movie. The “sequel” is decommissioning.
“It’s hard to get people interested in part two — decommissioning — because largely the spent fuel is really the most dangerous part of the reactor and always has been,” she said.
The waste now sits in dry casks that Lampert criticizes as the “cheap route” — half-inch thick stainless steel rather than the robust casks used in Europe.
“This was because of the myth that there would be a federal repository,” she said. “But no states are raising their hand saying they want it.”
The engineer’s logic
Butz, who lives in Groton, never shies away from the debate.
“My 60 years of mechanical design experience taught me what is practical, cost-effective and what actually works to solve technical problems,” Butz said.
In his view, renewables like wind and solar are “completely erratic and unpredictable” and “have no chance” of powering society alone. Nuclear’s advantage, he argues, is energy density.
“If done right, it’s clean. And it is not really dangerous,” Butz said, attributing public pushback to “over-exaggerated fear.” He dismisses concerns about terrorist attacks on the dry casks, citing tests where concrete casks survived rocket sled impacts intact.
Regarding SMRs, Butz acknowledges the criticism that the technology is “only on paper so far” is largely true, but insists the state should pursue them. When asked about siting an SMR at Pilgrim, he said it is “technically feasible” due to the existing grid infrastructure.
“We need to accept nuclear is a possibility and do a serious study,” he said.
Plymouth’s crossroads
For the town of Plymouth, the debate is not just about safety.
Since 1972, Pilgrim has been the financial backbone of the town, contributing $10 million to $15 million annually through payment-in-lieu-of-taxes agreements. But with the plant closed, those payments are phasing out, leaving the town facing a fiscal cliff.
“They’re hungry for revenue,” Lampert noted.
The town recently released the “Pilgrim 1600 Acre Area Plan,” a study exploring the site’s future. The report identifies the property’s 34-kilovolt transmission lines as a “rare, high-value asset.” It suggests four potential uses: an undersea cable interconnection, a battery energy storage system, solar arrays, or small modular reactors.
According to the plan, the town holds a right of first refusal should Holtec, the site’s owner, decide to sell the land.
The report captures a community divided. In the web comments, one resident wrote: “I was one who submitted the idea to install SMR … I know nuclear is not broadly popular, but it is CO2-free and part of the future.” Another countered: “I do not want to see more reckless development in a pointless attempt to recoup the loss of shutting down the nuclear plant.”
Holtec has signaled a clear interest in the technology. The company is already moving forward with deploying SMRs at its Palisades site in Michigan. Patrick O’Brien, a Holtec spokesman, confirmed that Pilgrim still has its power transmission lines in place, which would save the company time and money.
Future uncertainty
For Lampert, discussing new reactors while waste remains stranded is absurd.
“If the bathtub’s overflowing, turn off the water. Don’t let the bathtub overflow,” she said.
She remains deeply skeptical of SMR economics, noting the heavy subsidies required.
“If the state gives subsidies, you’re just increasing electric bills and tax bills,” she said. She is lobbying lawmakers to add a clause to the governor’s bill: “There will be no subsidies for any new reactor.”
As Plymouth stands at the intersection of a climate crisis and a fiscal cliff, two octogenarians continue their fight.
Butz will keep attending hearings, arguing for a cleaner, nuclear-powered future. Lampert hopes to educate a younger generation on the risks.
The problem, like the waste on the hill, isn’t going anywhere soon.
Dinghan Meng writes for the Gazette from the Boston University Statehouse Program.