Borderland Pragmatism and Nuclear Waste

Decades of regional friction between Switzerland and its northern neighbour are taking a deeply buried turn. With the submission of Nagra’s general license application in autumn 2024 for the Terradura project at Nördlich Lägern, Bern is pushing ahead with plans to store highly radioactive waste in the Zürcher Unterland. The material will remain hazardous for up to a million years, but the immediate political headache lies just three kilometres across the border in the German municipality of Hohentengen.

The timeline reflects Swiss administrative patience rather than haste. A federal decision on the license is expected in 2031, which must then pass parliament and potentially face a public referendum. Construction is slated for the mid-2030s, with the first waste arriving around 2050. Yet across the Rhine, local politicians are already wrestling with a familiar sense of helplessness. Martin Steinebrunner, head of the German coordination office for the repository, described the project as an imposition at a recent symposium in Waldshut, echoing a widespread local feeling that unwanted burdens are routinely shoved across the frontier.

This resentment is hardly unprecedented. The shadow of the Leibstadt nuclear power plant, constructed in the 1980s opposite Waldshut despite local protest, and long-standing disputes over Swiss aircraft noise over the Southern Black Forest have primed the region for irritation. Mayor Jürgen Wiener of Hohentengen highlighted anxieties regarding potential damage to drinking water and municipal reputation, while acknowledging a cold reality: "We have no veto power," Wiener stated, emphasizing that winning public trust requires taking these fears seriously.

Where political leverage fails, financial pragmatism predictably steps in. Swiss Federal Councillor Albert Rösti indicated about a month ago that communities on both sides of the border would receive appropriate financial compensation. That promise has clearly caught the attention of German officials. District Administrator Martin Kistler, who represents the 170,000 residents of the Landkreis Waldshut—an area twice the size of Basel-Landschaft—stressed that safety comes first, but added that money should certainly not bypass Hohentengen. Mayor Wiener conceded that while he would prefer no repository at all, compensation cannot be omitted if the project proceeds.

Curiously, the cross-border mood remains remarkably civil. Even as council members like Roswitha Drayer of Hohentengen express empathy for Swiss citizens who also endure flight noise and waste projects, both sides continue to describe their cooperation as constructive and neighbourly. Germany may grumble, but with no veto and a payout on the table, the ritual of borderland protest runs its familiar course.

Written by Thomas Nussbaumer thomas.nussbaumer@alpineweekly.com