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Exclusive Interview for ARGUMENTUM.al with Oleksandr Tyshchenko.
As the world marks the 40th anniversary of the Chernobyl disaster, the name itself continues to resonate with complex lessons about nuclear safety, human rights, and the delicate balance between technological advancement and its risks. In an exclusive interview with Argumentum.al, Oleksandr Tyshchenko—an advisor to Ukraine’s National Commission for Radiation Protection, a key figure in nuclear policy, and an artist—shares his profound insights into the long-lasting impact of the Chernobyl tragedy, the evolving risks of nuclear energy in today’s geopolitical climate, and how art and history intersect in times of crisis.
From his personal reflections on Chernobyl’s human, environmental, and institutional consequences to his views on the war in Ukraine and its impact on nuclear safety, Tyshchenko emphasizes the importance of truth, transparency, and global cooperation. His unique perspective as both a policy advisor and an artist gives a rare glimpse into how art can tell stories of resilience and how the world must navigate nuclear risks in the shadow of ongoing conflict.
In this conversation, Tyshchenko also touches on his recent art project filmed inside the reactor, the potential dangers posed by the war in Ukraine to nuclear facilities, and the urgent steps needed to prevent a “new Chernobyl” in an increasingly unstable world.
Interview by: Marjana DODA
Editor-in-Chief
–Mr. Tyshchenko, as we approach the 40th anniversary of the Chernobyl disaster, what do you believe the world still misunderstands about what happened in 1986?
What the world still doesn’t understand about Chernobyl is that it wasn’t just a man-made disaster. It was a global catastrophe affecting the human right to the truth.
People weren’t informed in a timely manner about what had happened. Information was delayed, distorted, and concealed. As a result, people couldn’t make basic decisions to protect themselves and their families. Radiation was dangerous, but it was the lack of truth that magnified the consequences.
And the most difficult part of this conversation is that 40 years later, this problem hasn’t gone away. Yes, technology has changed, systems have become more complex, but behavioral patterns have largely remained the same.
In many countries, we still see political institutions trying to tell the public that “everything is under control,” even in high-risk situations. Officials remain afraid to report bad news to their superiors, fearing for their own positions. And the media often finds itself compelled to serve political interests instead of fulfilling its key function—telling the truth.
40 years later, the lesson remains unlearned. The system fears the truth more than disaster.
–As an advisor to Ukraine’s National Commission for Radiation Protection, how does Chernobyl continue to influence your work and policies today?
Chernobyl fundamentally changed attitudes toward nuclear policy, revealing not only the potential of nuclear energy as a source of relatively cheap energy but also its vulnerability. I do not view nuclear energy as an absolute good or an absolute evil. In my view, humanity still cannot abandon this form of energy without compromising technological development.
It is important to remember that this is an area where quality management, transparency, and communication are no less important than engineering solutions.
–From your perspective, what have been the most lasting human and environmental consequences of the disaster over these four decades?
From a long-term perspective, the consequences of Chernobyl can be divided into three levels: human, environmental, and institutional. What makes this disaster unique is that none of these levels ended in 1986—all are still evolving.
On the human side, the most lasting impact is not only the direct impact of radiation but also the destruction of entire communities. Hundreds of thousands of people were evacuated from the area around the plant, including the city of Pripyat, which was built specifically for the plant’s workers. This forced migration led to a long-term “uprooting” effect: people lost their homes, social connections, professions, and, in some cases, a stable identity associated with their place of residence. The health consequences are still being studied, but the most confirmed effect remains the increase in thyroid cancer cases among people who were children at the time of the accident. An equally important, but often underestimated, impact is psychological trauma and a sense of loss of control over one’s own life.
From an ecological perspective, the consequences are paradoxical. The Chernobyl exclusion zone has essentially become one of the largest natural areas in Europe that emerged by chance. The absence of humans has allowed forests and animal populations to recover, forming a unique ecosystem. This is neither a “dead zone” nor “restored nature,” but a persistently altered ecological system where radiation remains a normal part of the environment.
We discussed the institutional legacy above.
–Your recent art project was filmed inside the reactor before the war, what story were you trying to tell through this unique work, Mr. Tyshchenko?
Initially, when I was working on a project featuring Snezhana Onopko, a Ukrainian supermodel and contemporary of the tragedy, I wanted to show that human love and energy are stronger than any catastrophe, without exception. And that even the most terrible things have their own beauty and appeal.
With the outbreak of war in my country, meanings changed. This is a rare case where meaning itself found a work of art—if I can even call my project that.
-How has the ongoing war in Ukraine changed the risks and global perception of nuclear safety, especially regarding sites like Chernobyl?
The war in Ukraine has profoundly changed the global understanding of nuclear energy risks and approaches to nuclear safety. It has demonstrated that nuclear facilities in armed conflict cease to be purely civilian infrastructure.
They effectively become part of the war—an instrument of pressure and blackmail, and in some cases, a strategic hostage, directly affecting regional and global security.
-As you prepare to bring your exhibition to Albania, what message do you hope international audiences will take away from it?
The exhibition in Albania is very important to me.
Your voice could be very important for Europe. Your country, like no other, prepared for a nuclear conflict. Just a few years ago, Enver Hoxha’s bunker system evoked smiles in young people and bewilderment in foreigners. Now the planet is one step away from these bunkers being used for their intended purpose.
I don’t want to convey any specific political or artistic message. What matters to me is the dialogue, the exchange of opinions, and the initiatives the project can spark.
-Is it still realistic to separate civilian nuclear energy from military and geopolitical risk in the current global climate?
That would be the shortest answer. Under current conditions, no.
But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t strive for it.
-Looking ahead, what is the single most important step the international community must take to prevent a “new Chernobyl” in an era of war and nuclear tension?
Two hours ago, we discussed this with Mark Zheleznyak, a professor at Fukushima University and a Chernobyl disaster liquidator.
In an ideal world, the next step would be a UN resolution (or another relevant international institution) on the inadmissibility of occupying and attacking nuclear energy infrastructure facilities—preferably with the broadest possible international consensus, even unanimous.
More realistically, the key problem is that developing and implementing an effective system of deterrence and sanctions against states for which violating international agreements has become the norm is extremely difficult.
Nevertheless, at the moment, this very step—formalizing and internationally enshrining the absolute inviolability of nuclear infrastructure—seems the most logical and necessary direction.
Thank you!
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