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Read original →Nuclear Divide: Why Europe Will Struggle to Quit Russian Uranium
The EU is planning a ban on Russian nuclear fuel imports, but the transition will take 10 years and cost €4-6 billion. We examine Europe's technological dependence on Russian uranium and the consequences for energy prices.

Nuclear Numbers You Can't Escape
The European Commission has confirmed plans for a phased ban on imports of Russian nuclear fuel—a move intended to complete Europe's energy "divorce" from Russia. EC spokesperson Ana Kaisa Itkonen explained: "Supply chains in the nuclear energy sector have their own peculiarities and complexities." Translated from diplomatic speak—yes, it's possible to walk away, but not quickly and not painlessly.
According to Euratom data, in 2023 Russia supplied approximately23% of natural uranium deliveriesto the EU and nearly27% of conversion services, without which enrichment is impossible. In the enriched uranium segment itself, Rosatom's share is even higher—up to 38% of the EU market.
These figures aren't just statistics—they describe a reality where Russian uranium is built into the very architecture of European nuclear power. In 2023, the EU purchased more than €700 million worth of nuclear fuel from Russia, even as overall energy imports from Russia fell by orders of magnitude. Russia may be supplying fewer energy resources—but it hasn't lost control over a critical link in the energy chain.
A Nuclear Hello from the USSR
Europe's main problem is that a significant portion of European nuclear power plants—especially in Eastern Europe—were built using Soviet designs with VVER reactors. Currently, the EU has99 reactors in operation,11 of which are VVERs, built using Soviet technology and serviced by Rosatom. In Hungary, Slovakia, and the Czech Republic, they provide up to 50% of national power generation, and all are "tailored" for Russian fuel.
Any attempt to replace it with Western alternatives requires not just a new contract, but essentially reactor recertification: recalculation of the reactor core, licensing, additional testing. That's years of work and hundreds of millions of euros per plant. For example, Czech nuclear corporation ČEZ began diversifying fuel suppliers for the Temelín and Dukovany reactors back in 2018, attempting to replace Russian supplier TVEL. Only in 2025, after all inspections were complete, did the first deliveries of American fuel from Westinghouse begin.
So talk of a "phased withdrawal" means one thing—a decade-long technical transition. France, where nuclear generation accounts for nearly 70% of the energy mix, could become a leader in replacement, but even its uranium enrichment capacity is limited.
The Mice Wept and Substituted, But Energy Kept Getting More Expensive
Attempts to replace Russian uranium have already begun: in 2024, the top two spots among uranium suppliers to the EU went to Canada (33%) and Kazakhstan (24%). Changing suppliers in the "energy sector of the future," combined with the overall decarbonization policy and "green agenda," could lead to price increases both in the short term and long term. And according to estimates from Western analytical agency Bruegel, even in a best-case scenario, European electricity prices could remain roughly 50% higher than in the US, China, and India. For European industry, this represents a blow to competitiveness as well as to its development potential.
Another risk is logistical. The bulk of Kazakh uranium still passes through Russian enrichment facilities. Moreover, Rosatom's subsidiary Uranium One controls up to 70% of shares in joint Russian-Kazakh ventures that operate six uranium deposits in Kazakhstan. In other words, "breaking away from Russia" on paper easily transforms into dependence with a different label—formally Canadian or European, but physically still the same Russian source.
Brussels sees the uranium embargo not only as an economic move but also as a symbolic one—the completion of Europe's energy sovereignty. But in the nuclear sphere, politics moves more slowly than physics. You can abandon gas in a single heating season, but uranium only after modernizing an entire technological chain.
For comparison, by various estimates, transitioning to alternative supplies requires up to 10 years of investment and costs in the range of 4–6 billion, factoring in the construction of proprietary enrichment and fuel assembly lines. And all this to replace imports currently valued at less than a billion euros per year.
What about Russia?
For Russia, uranium is not a key export item—its share of Rosatom's revenue is estimated at 5%, or around$700–800 million annually. But it's precisely uranium that gives Moscow soft leverage: while Europe vacillates between principles and infrastructure, Russia supplies fuel that cannot be replaced overnight.
Europe's attempt to rid itself of Russian uranium is more than an economic reform. It's a test of maturity: can the EU build technological sovereignty without destroying its energy balance in the process? The odds exist, but it will require sacrificing some of its economic potential.
The bottom line is simple: a uranium embargo is possible, but it won't happen tomorrow. Between politics and nuclear physics lies a long stretch of calculations, investments, and compromises. Europe can tear up contracts, but it cannot repeal the laws by which its reactors operate.