The Power of Noticing: 30 Years on A Nuclear Shoreline

Last week, a reporter called me. He wanted to talk about Port Hope, the future of nuclear power and a question that feels increasingly urgent: Can Lake Ontario actually weather another 10 nuclear reactors? It would mean adding to the existing nuclear reactors and nuclear waste sites on a watershed that millions depend on for drinking water. Also, depleting more natural shoreline that is already slowly, steadily disappearing on this Great Lake.

The call caught me off guard. Not because the questions were new—I’ve spent 30 years as counsel to communities and groups at CNSC hearings—but because of the emotions it stirred up. It forced me to look at the shoreline through the lens of three decades of frontline work.

In Ontario, we have a habit of ignoring nuclear issues right up until the moment we pay our power bills. We’ve watched the industry shift from federal projects under AECL to private giants like Cameco, CNL and AtkinsRéalis (formerly SNC-Lavalin). As the oversight shifts and the corporate names change, the physical reality of the waste and the water remains.

All this took me back to a time captured in a chapter of Lawrence Scanlan’s 2010 book, A Year of Living Generously, where he followed me and my Waterkeeper team around the shorelines and through the communities that live in the shadow of these plants for a month.

The Pipe at the Water’s Edge

There is a specific moment in that book that I keep returning to. The story relates the report of a resident who was walking their shoreline and came across a black pipe visible at the water’s edge.

It hadn’t suddenly appeared. It had likely been there for years. But the conditions had shifted—the water receded, the light hit it differently—and someone finally noticed it.

That pipe wasn't dramatic, but it was an invitation to go deeper and find out what was coming out of it. This simple instinct had happened over and over on this shoreline, when people called after seeing coloured water or suspicious runoff into the Lake. When people noticed, we sampled, and we shared the results with the public, with the polluters, and sometimes with the court. We had done that years earlier at the Port Granby nuclear waste site.

It always underscored the truth that environmental protection doesn’t just happen in boardrooms; it depends on whether someone slows down enough to look, and then decides that noticing carries a responsibility.

What We Are Taught To Ignore

Most of us think we are observant, but we are actually highly trained non-observers. We are shaped by our roles and our incentives. We notice what we are rewarded for noticing; we walk past the things we’ve been subtly taught aren't our place to question. Don’t rock the boat, we’re told, things will only get worse.

That black pipe wasn’t invisible. It was unacknowledged. Nuclear waste sites aren’t hidden away; they are beside our communities, drinking water, and roads. Nuclear power plants aren’t emission-free—the proponents just want you to believe that.

In the past few years, I have been deeply immersed in the Biinaagami project. (Biinaagami.ca )It has taught me a great deal about my work and our waters. Rooted in respect and relationships, Biinaagami is about noticing. It underscores the need for an active and moral choice to engage with our waters. It inspires people who notice something out of place to step into a relationship with it. To speak up.

In my legal work, I’ve witnessed how investigating through sampling and local awareness brought about million- and billion-dollar cleanups in Moncton on the Petitcodiac River, in Montreal on the St Lawrence, in Toronto on the Humber River, in Hamilton on the Redhill Creek, in Kingston on the Cataraqui River, in Port Hope and Port Granby on Lake Ontario. Little toxic lethality tests with "spiny fleas" or “rainbow Trout” forced polluters and even the Canadian government to spend billions on improving the containment of their waste sites. That didn't start with a policy paper; it always started with a resident who refused to look away.

Blind Spots in the Nuclear Renaissance

Max Bazerman wrote about The Power of Noticing. He talks about our blind spots and argues that massive institutional and environmental failures happen not because of a lack of intelligence, but because people are conditioned to ignore key information that is sitting right in front of them.

I agree with that conclusion—especially when it comes to the current renaissance of nuclear power in Ontario. The last two big pushes by the government—the Demand Supply Plan of the late '80s and the Integrated Power System Plan of the mid-2000s—were both forced to undergo regulatory scrutiny by Ontario tribunals and fell apart upon closer inspection. This time, our government is making sure to skip those processes where people might notice something awry.

We should be paying attention to what isn’t happening this time. We should question the amount of nuclear waste emissions that we are encouraged to believe are normal for Lake Ontario. We need to recognize how self-interest in jobs, taxes, and subsidies can narrow our vision and make us forget what we are truly concerned about: Our Lake.

A Shared Responsibility

Thankfully, not all corporate public relations plans are able to deter the citizen from walking the beach or environmental advocates with a passion for the truth. Nature is not an abstraction. It doesn't fit into a tidy quarterly report. It reveals itself slowly—in the erosion where there once was grass, or the algae where the water was once clear. The truth will emerge; it is just a matter of time. And hopefully, it will not be too late.

Thinking again about Biinaagami, I am reminded that noticing is everyone’s responsibility. That responsibility requires mutual accountability. When we notice pollution, it’s not always about finding someone to blame—it’s about honoring a commitment to the species and ecosystems that sustain us.

After 30 years on the water, I’ve noticed so much. These experiences have changed my perspective, including my sense of time and place on the Great Lakes. I’ve realized we don’t need everyone to be environmental advocates; we just need people willing to slow down and say what they see.

The things that matter most rarely announce themselves with a red light or a siren like a goal in a hockey game. They wait, patiently, for someone to finally pay attention.

Thanks for reading. It really means a lot to me.

PS: This piece is inspired by people who care in Port Hope, the work of Lawrence Scanlan (A Year of Living Generously), and the insights of Max Bazerman (The Power of Noticing).