Nikolai Steinberg: «A colossal amount of energy has fallen into our hands. It can be used for the greater good, or it can destroy everything. The key to safety lies in the risks inherent in the interaction between humans and the machines they create»

April 2026. Since then, the Chornobyl disaster has been documented in volumes of scientific reports and captured in hundreds of hours of newsreels. Unfortunately, it has also been obscured by dozens of «convenient» myths. However, within the professional community, there are individuals whose authority in safety discussions is absolute. One of these is Nikolai Steinberg, an engineer whose career spanned the «birth» of the Chornobyl NPP and his active involvement in mitigating the consequences of the disaster that shook the world.

In this interview, we will discuss the period before and after the Chornobyl catastrophe, as well as the «convenient truth» and «inconvenient» surrounding personnel errors and the Soviet nuclear project. We will also ask Nikolai Steinberg about his new book «Our Long Way to April».

This interview was prepared by SSTC NRS in collaboration with the Editorial Board of Uatom.org as part of a series of events marking the 40th anniversary of the Chornobyl disaster.

– Mr. Steinberg, this year marks the 40th anniversary of the Chornobyl disaster. Yet you worked at the Chornobyl NPP long before the accident (until 1983), rising through the ranks from senior engineer to Head of the Turbine Hall. How do you remember those working days before the accident?

I started working at the Chornobyl NPP in early April 1971, directly on site.  At that time, there was neither a plant nor a city. Just forest, river, marshes, and roe deer (or something similar) darting across the path as you walked to work. Everything was built from the ground up: the team, the housing, and the future NPP itself.

On August 15, 1972, the first cubic meter of concrete was poured into the foundation of the turbine hall of the main building. And so it continued, facility by facility. On August 1, 1977, the first fuel assembly was loaded into the reactor, marking the first criticality. In late September, the first power unit was started up. I was on the shift that synchronized the second turbine with the grid. Later, the director «pushed» me and two other colleagues into the roles of NPP shift supervisors for the startup of the first turbine. As was the custom at the time, its launch was scheduled to coincide with the «Great October» holiday. The following year, the second power unit was commissioned. This was the first time in the history of RBMK-1000 construction that power units had been launched within just one year of each other. Typically, the subsequent unit was commissioned a full year after the previous one.

At the end of my shift in late October 1981, I was summoned to the director’s office. He handed me a sheet of paper and said: «Sign it!». It turned out to be the order appointing me as the Head of the Turbine Hall No. 2. When I tried to back out, claiming that it wasn’t my area of expertise, he said: «Go and get to work!».

The third power unit was launched. Six months before the fourth unit was due to start up, I transferred to the Balakovo NPP. There, I headed the Commissioning and Startup Department, later taking the position of Deputy Chief Engineer. In this role, I was responsible for the commissioning and operation of the first unit, as well as the construction of the second. We had already begun the pre-commissioning work when April arrived.

– In May 1986, you undertook an extraordinarily challenging mission when you became Chief Engineer of the Chornobyl NPP. What made you want to take on this role when most people wanted to be as far away from Pripyat as possible?

I had formally traveled to Moscow to the State Bank to arrange a loan for the startup of the second power unit. I stopped by Soyuzatomenergo and received a stamp in my passport: «Deployed to the Chornobyl NPP». Along with Taras Plokhiy (who had previously served as the Head of the Turbine Hall and Deputy Chief Engineer at the Chornobyl NPP, and later as the Chief Engineer of the Balakovo NPP), we flew to the pioneer camp.

We headed to Chornobyl in the morning. The First Deputy Minister G. Shasharin sent us to the station: «Take a fresh look at things, then report back». We reported back that evening. A new order followed: «Nikolai, you go to the station. Taras, you stay at the headquarters».

I wasn’t aware that, a few days later, I had been appointed Deputy Chief Engineer without being relieved of my position at the Balakovo NPP. Then, on the night of May 26, G. O. Kopchinsky called the bunker where I lived and worked: «As of this morning, you are the Chief Engineer of the NPP».

I tried to object, but the response was: «There is no time for discussion. This is war». From then on, it was all about work. No issues arose. It was my station and my team, and we all shared the same goal.

– As detailed in your memoirs, all primary operational documentation, including instrument charts, SKALA system printouts and operational logs, was immediately seized and hidden in archives under a «secret» classification, meaning you had no access to it. Given the severe lack of information – where the station management was kept in the dark about exactly how the events of that night unfolded – how did you manage to make technical decisions and prepare the surviving units for further operation?

It was clear that the reactor had exploded due to a positive void coefficient of reactivity. This was quickly understood; no documents were needed for that. Moreover, in early June, we received a list of safety enhancement measures for the RBMK-1000, which only served to confirm our suspicions. However, we still didn’t know how or why it had happened. Presumably, the leadership was «sparing» our nervous systems. We couldn’t piece it together ourselves – there were no documents or witnesses to what had occurred in the MCR (Main Control Room). We knew nothing about what was happening outside the station, such as where and what meetings were being held and what was being discussed.

I had more than enough of my own problems. My relationship with the Chief Designer had become very strained. I eventually told one of the rotating chairmen of the Government Commission that I would not restart the power unit until a document was produced that guaranteed the safety of the reactor, taking into account the implemented measures. A few hours later, I was taken to the City Party Committee. Eventually, everyone calmed down and a safety document appeared, just a few pages long, 3-4 days before the first power unit was due to start up. Of course, compared to today’s Safety Analysis Reports, it was a total sham, but the necessary officials had signed those pages. The only thing I regret is not making a copy of that document for myself. I doubt it can be found today.

– Given your extensive background as an operator, unit shift supervisor and Head of the Turbine Hall, you were thoroughly familiar with the regulations and instructions in effect at the time. During your first months as Chief Engineer, what was the moment when you finally realized that the operating personnel had simply performed standard actions in conditions where the reactor was already doomed by its own design flaws?

 No assessments could have been made of the men’s actions that night. All documents had been seized and no one was left to ask. Anyone who knew anything had already passed through the tent in the pioneer camp – nicknamed the «torture chamber» – and signed non-disclosure agreements regarding «the dissemination of knowledge». The KGB knew their business well.

– Evaluating the events of that night as a whole, the operators acted in accordance with the regulations by attempting to carry out the test programme and shutting down the reactor using the standard button. Given your knowledge of the inner workings of a power unit, how would you characterize the psychological and professional state of the operators in the final minutes before the explosion? Did they have even a theoretical chance of recognizing that, due to its design flaws, the RBMK-1000 had already entered a state of irreversible power excursion?

The power unit operated without any deviations from safety parameters until the AZ-5 button (reactor shutdown) was pressed. Although the process was complex, it was a standard operating procedure. Before taking a unit offline for maintenance, it is common practice to conduct numerous tests: this is vital for checking the condition of the equipment and clarifying the scope of repairs, as well as for the sequential balancing of the turbines.

I repeat: there were no deviations from the operating regime until the AZ-5 button was pressed, which is a routine operation to shut down the reactor. This was confirmed by all available parameter registration methods at the time. A few seconds later, the reactor exploded.

The shift was intense, but that is normal during a maintenance shutdown or the start-up of a unit after repairs. It would be some time before everyone learned what happened next. It was only after it blew up that both the reactor’s creators and the operators truly understood what the RBMK-1000 was.

– Mr. Steinberg, if we analyze the events leading up to the accident in detail, we find that a long-circulated myth is that the tragedy was provoked by the power system dispatcher’s demand to delay the unit’s shutdown and deactivate the emergency core cooling system. However, experts know that this was permitted by regulations and did not affect the progression of the accident. The dispatcher acted within his authority to maintain grid stability. Why, in your opinion, did the authors of the first official Soviet report to the IAEA attempt to turn these standard operational circumstances into «gross violations» by the personnel?

Firstly, regarding the postponement of the tests. After 1986, numerous «experts» on power system operations emerged. The primary «authorities» were the authors of the «Soviet report» presented by the USSR at the IAEA meeting, where the causes and circumstances of the accident were discussed. Yes, the power unit’s shutdown was rescheduled to a later time to avoid the evening peak load. I must admit that I was surprised to learn, when we began our own investigation, that the planned maintenance shutdown was initially scheduled for daytime. As far as I can recall, we have always shut down for maintenance late at night. However, in our case, something else is more important: the timing of the unit’s shutdown was irrelevant to the cause of the accident or its consequences. I can only reiterate that only one person makes the decision on when and what changes to the system’s operating mode are to be implemented: the power system dispatcher. The professionalism of our dispatchers has never been in doubt. Their work today further proves this: four years in the hell of war, and the system lives on!

Why did the «Soviet report» describe the personnel’s actions as «unbelievable errors», when the actual causes were identified within just a few days and confirmed by May through calculation studies from several organizations? At the time, it was impossible to reveal the true safety status of Soviet power units because more than a dozen of our nuclear facilities had already been exported abroad. It was easiest to blame the operators for everything. It was concise and clear, and there was no need to conduct any research into the quality of the power units. That is the short version. For those within the state who were meant to know the truth, the real causes and circumstances of the catastrophe were hidden in documents classified as «Top Secret».

– For most of your colleagues on that April night, the world was forever split into «before» and «after», and the names of the operators became synonymous with their alleged «errors». During your nearly year-long tenure as Chief Engineer of the Chornobyl NPP, you navigated the most challenging phase of the liquidation. Did this period of direct leadership at the station become the turning point at which you realized that fighting for nuclear safety requires an open, independent investigation and the exoneration of your colleagues from unjust accusations?

No, that happened later. I was no different from the others – we all grew up within that system. However, when I was transferred to the USSR Committee for State Supervision of Safety in Industry and Nuclear Energy (USSR Gospromatomnadzor) in March 1987, I started to meet nuclear regulators from the Council for Mutual Economic Assistance (CMEA) member states. Later, I met with regulators from the US and Finland, foreigners. Firstly, none of them understood the word «supervision» (nadzor), and I didn’t understand the word «regulation». Secondly, I realized that safety information must be transparent to the public (remember, this was in the second year of USSR Perestroika and «the process is underway», as our General Secretary used to say). Thirdly, I was not a bureaucrat – there had been neither the opportunity nor the time to become one – and I never became one. This helped immensely.

– In popular culture, especially following the release of the Western miniseries, a dramatic narrative has emerged concerning a «call from the top» demanding that the tests not be stopped. You have repeatedly emphasized that no such call ever took place. Why is this myth so persistent, and who benefits from creating the illusion of external pressure on personnel?

Small-minded (or outright dishonest) people are driven by ignorance, hidden resentment and the desire to project their own «exceptionalism», among other reasons, to concoct all sorts of conspiracy theories for even the simplest events. I have no desire to analyze or debunk this «creativity». However, I have a premonition that many more will surface in the coming days. Not one of these «scriptwriters» has ever produced a single official report backed by documentation. In my view, the most vile thing is to slander a person, whether in professional or everyday contexts. It is disgusting. Those who do it are scum. Even if they receive awards for «outstanding» films.

– In 1990, while working at the USSR Gospromatomnadzor, you headed a commission that conducted an independent investigation into the causes of the accident. The commission relied exclusively on documentary evidence and objective data. Given that all primary operational documentation from the Chornobyl NPP had been seized by the KGB and the reactor’s creators and hidden under a «secret» classification, what kind of systemic resistance did you face during this work?

To be honest, the only real resistance came from the Chief Designer. While other organizations were not particularly eager to help, at least they did not interfere. However, that was only at the leadership level. There were no problems at all with the specialists. Everyone needs the truth, even if it’s unpleasant. There were difficulties with certain documents, particularly the instrument recorder charts, which would have enabled us to independently reconstruct the progression of the accident. But I was fortunate. I met with the Deputy Chairman of the Supreme Court of the USSR, who granted me access to the materials of Criminal Case No. 19-73 and clarified a range of legal issues for me. This proved to be of immense help in my subsequent work.

– What emotions did you experience when the international community officially recognized that the system had allowed an error to escalate into a global catastrophe, disavowing the initial Soviet version after years of defending the truth?

There was satisfaction in knowing that the truth had been restored. Satisfaction from demonstrating that the system operating in the country at the time allowed an operator’s error to escalate into a global catastrophe.

Back in 1988, I prepared proposals for a gradual transition from a «supervision» system to a «regulation» system for nuclear safety. These proposals were reviewed and approved during a two-day meeting at the USSR Gospromatomnadzor. Investigating the causes and circumstances of the accident finally convinced me of the necessity to change the system. But we built that system here in Ukraine.

– At SSTC NRS, we are currently working on publishing your book about the Chornobyl accident, its precursors and the period after the accident. What specifically prompted you to write «Our long way to April» now? Did you feel that society still does not know the true story?

During a conversation with the manager of one of our Ukrainian NPPs five or six years ago, I realized that he knew absolutely nothing about the causes and circumstances of the Chornobyl accident. All he could mutter was: «The personnel are to blame!». I’m not talking about the technical or scientific causes of the accident right now. Those who haven’t worked with the RBMK simply don’t understand. I am talking about the root causes – about the people in our industry. A colossal amount of energy has fallen into our hands. It can be used for the greater good, or it can destroy everything. The key to safety lies in the risks inherent in the interaction between humans and the machines they create.

This made me stop and think. Of course, the war also had an impact. New information also came to light. Much of what I write about was previously only known through hearsay. However, in recent years, scientific publications and memoirs have emerged from individuals involved in the RBMK’s long history in one way or another. These are written records. They can be cited.

Furthermore, my colleagues pleaded with me: «Write it down. We will be gone, and the new generation knows nothing. They will repeat our mistakes». In the book, I have relied solely on the testimonies of those who were directly involved in the creation of the RBMK-1000. The book does not contain the perspective of the operating personnel, except for my own. I recently came across a few more documents, but what I have already used is more than enough.

– For a long time, the discourse surrounding the Chornobyl disaster relied on oral accounts and offhand remarks. Today, however, you work with documents and written testimonies. What are your thoughts on the fact that the true history of the reactor’s creation had to be pieced together from the memoirs of the people who designed it? How long did it take them to find the courage to speak out?

Sooner or later, a normal person seeks to shed the burden of responsibility weighing upon them. The past era burdened many with a weight that no one wishes to carry any longer. A new era has arrived – an era of re-evaluating values. What once seemed like an achievement has turned out to be its opposite. People want to be rid of it. The aim is to warn the youth so that they do not repeat the mistakes of those who are leaving. Admittedly, these are usually just well-meaning wishes. For the most part, a person lives by their own experience.

– Do you think the investigation into the causes of the Chornobyl disaster has finally come to a close? Are there still areas that remain technically inexplicable to this day?

That is not a question for me. I don’t rule out the possibility that some people will still be interested in this topic. The question is how objective the information preserved in the archives truly is. Too many interested organizations have handled it time and again, filtering it in the process. General assessments can be made – as I have just done – but the details require a different level of work altogether. Furthermore, investigating the legal or personnel aspects is one thing. Investigating the scientific and technical aspects of the accident is another matter entirely.

Editorial Board of Uatom.org