Swedish nuclear waste management as an inert controversy: using critical constructivism to understand cold technological conflict

ABSTRACT
 Science and technology studies (STS) has long studied scientific controversies as a way to identify prospects for technical democracy. Contemporary STS tends to prioritize ‘overflowing’ controversies, where lay actors challenge experts’ technical frameworks by explicating the broader implications and so open up technological issues. Yet many controversies are not like this; they operate on a largely technical register within official procedures, so the broader implications remain implicit. In the case of Swedish nuclear waste management a major controversy did not overflow and so presents an opportunity to elaborate theoretically on such ‘inert’ controversies. Crucial insights can come from Andrew Feenberg’s critical constructivism – an alloy of STS and the Frankfurt School. It can help explain why some controversies remain inert and what is at stake there, regardless of the actors’ actions and statements. To make these contributions, critical constructivism needs to emphasize its critical heritage. As with many contemporary studies in STS, critical constructivism has increasingly come to study how change happens, at the expense of how the status quo is maintained. Through the STS idea of ‘structural closure’ – how controversies can be closed by hegemonic structures – inert controversies can be addressed by critical constructivism, thus enriching the study of controversies in STS.


Introduction
In January 2022 the Swedish national government granted an application to implement a repository for spent nuclear fuel (SR, 2022).The then minister of the environment stated in her public announcement that 'more than 40 years of research' has produced a technical solution that is 'well prepared', making Sweden 'world leading' in nuclear waste management (NWM) (Regeringen, 2022).While the minister described consensus and progress, the road to the decision has been controversial, something the government had to consider before making its decision.
In this article, I analyze a contentious event that preceded the government's decision.Formally speaking, the event was set in motion in 2011 when the Swedish Nuclear Fuel and Waste Management Company (SKB) submitted its application to build a repository for spent nuclear fuel in the municipality of Östhammar (SKB, 2011a(SKB, , 2011b)).If accepted, the proposed repository would be virtually unique.Only Finland is further along, also using SKB's technologies (Kojo and Oksa, 2014;Flores, 2015).
In 2017, the application was reviewed in the Stockholm department of the Land and Environment Court (hereafter, the Court) to determine how it corresponded to the demands of legislation.The Court process engaged a range of actors: experts, environmental NGOs, judicial experts, government authorities, citizens, and politicians.
The application detailed the industry's plan to dispose of spent fuel in copper canisters, 500 meters deep in bedrock according to the 'Nuclear Fuel Safety' technology (KBS 3), a 'multi-barrier' disposal system developed since the 1970s (KBS, 1978).SKB represented KBS 3 as meeting the requirements of Swedish regulation that the canistersone of the three barriersremain intact for 100,000 years (SSMFS, 2008:37).
While the application presented many environmental considerations ranging from animal well-being, bedrock stability, protection of nature reserves, and more, it was a longstanding scientific controversy over copper corrosion in oxygen-free water that resurfaced and remained the key issue.
In Court, metallurgists from the Royal Institute of Technology (KTH) contradicted the SKB metallurgists.SKB argued that no significant corrosion would occur in 100,000 years, while the KTH researchers insisted that corrosion would fatally impair the canisters in 100 years.
Engagement in the controversy simultaneously implied an opportunity to affect the course of Swedish NWM, and by extension energy policy, and NGOs allied with the KTH researchers.Despite the disagreement that surrounds an issue as controversial as NWM, however, the corrosive properties of copper remained the joint and persistent core concern of the divergent actors.
Finally, the Court's conclusion was that the application could have been granted had it not been for the scientific uncertainty about corrosion, thus further enforcing the view that the legitimacy of Swedish NWM hinged on the material properties of copper.This verdict was seen as a victory for the environmental movement and NGOs, but the subsequent government decision to grant the application testified to the questionable long-term value of the victory.
Anyone who wanted to make explicit the controversy's broader implications was disappointed by the procedure's strictly technical preoccupation which prioritized the scientific scrutiny of details in pre-existing NWM disposal technology.In this regard, the controversy sets itself apart not so much from controversies considered historically in science and technology studies (STS), but from the types of controversies typically considered in contemporary STS.That is, controversies during which lay actors explicate the broader implications by 'overflowing' reductionist technocratic frameworks (Callon et al., 2009).Rather than being opened up, such restrictive frameworks were perpetuated.
The focus on overflows suggests that what I will call 'inert controversies'controversies during which the broader implications remain stubbornly unspokenare of secondary importance in most contemporary STS.Hence, to forward the understanding of inert controversies can contribute to STS's explanatory power for addressing a broader spectrum of conflict.Where, if not in contemporary STS might one find concepts for doing so?Andrew Feenberg's (2017a) 'critical constructivism'an alloy of STS and the Frankfurt Schoolconstitutes one option that I argue has potential.Despite Feenberg's claim that he offers something new to STS, and despite his interest in controversies, the corrosion controversy does not fit entirely neatly into critical constructivism's assertions.This is because Feenbergsimilarly to STSincreasingly has focused on controversies where lay actors contribute to challenging the technocratic understanding of technologies.To a priori assume the transformative potential of controversies, however, implies at least two issues for inert controversies.First, the emphasis on controversies as drivers of change, potentially downplays the insight that wider structural forces might keep controversies strictly technical; and second by over-appreciating the democratic potential of lay engagement in controversy, it potentially underappreciates the convergence of lay and expert rationalities that can coexist in controversy.
Still, critical constructivism has the potential to tend to these issues because its critical legacy incorporates a critique of the 'status quo'.To carve out a way of understanding the present controversy which is truly distinct from dominant perspectives in STS, Feenberg's framework needs to more clearly incorporate controversies that are not necessarily progressive, and where tensions between lay and expert rationalities are, at least on the surface, not obvious.As I will show, there are lessons that critical constructivism can borrow from a time when STS was more theoretically diverse.
In what follows, I elaborate on the relationship between STS and critical constructivism.Subsequently, I reconfigure critical constructivist concepts to accommodate the corrosion controversy.I then deploy my adjusted theoretical framework to analyze the events in Court.Finally, I discuss the contributions made by critical constructivism, and what they imply for the study of controversies more broadly.

Situating critical constructivism in controversy studies
At an overarching level, Feenberg contributes to the 'political economy camp' as opposed to the 'post structuralist camp' in STS (Söderberg, 2017).In this broad sense, he aligns himself with scholars who bring attention to, for instance, the absencebut also the reinstatingof capitalisms in STS (Moore, 2021), the technoscientific character of capitalism (Birch, 2017), and the scientific management of neo-liberalism (Lave et al., 2010).Particularly, critical constructivism seeks to reconcile STS with the Frankfurt School's critical procedures (Feenberg, 1999).
Recently, Feenberg has deepened his commitment to 'open [STS] to a wider range of philosophical and social theories of modernity ' (2017a, p. 38).The result is 'critical constructivism', that is, the development of his previous 'critical theory of technology' that more consciously invokes STS (Feenberg, 2017a).
To be sure, Feenberg's project is vast and I cannot evaluate the totality of its aspirations.That said, controversies constitute a major overlap in interest between Feenberg and STS.Early STS developed controversy studies as a methodological tool to open science and to challenge the prevailing view of controversies as simply conflicts over truth.STS has later come to view controversies also as important sites for politics.
It is primarily in relation to these more recent developments that critical constructivism's concerns are best understood.Critical constructivism agrees with contemporary STS that technological conflict may facilitate sociotechnical change; controversies can potentially enhance technological decision-making.Instead of being threats to progress, controversies are understood as harboring the potential to renegotiate the values embedded in technology.Controversies may have real impacts on technologies, because technologies are 'underdetermined' (Bijker, 1995).Feenberg and STS thus converge in their anti-determinism, anti-positivism, and anti-technocracy.
Nevertheless, Feenberg launches critical constructivism as analytically distinct.Primarily, his novelty lies in invoking concepts from the Frankfurt School, but he simultaneously considers 'early works' in STS.These he understands as essentially 'social constructivist'.However, Feenberg interprets the early studies as theorizing mainly scientific 'in-house' controversies.He holds that this posed 'a problem for the generalization of STS methods to society at large ' (2017a, p. 49).
From his perspective, STS made itself less widely applicable because of its focus on, for instance, scientific 'core-sets' (Collins, 1985).Because Feenberg is interested in technological change driven by the lived experiences of lay actors, he understands the study of in-house scientific controversies as being too obscure.
In this specific regard, Feenberg is sympathetic to actor-network theory's (ANT) later focus on 'public controversies', which has secured a strong position in STS since the 1980s.Critical constructivism welcomes the alignment with ANT in the empirical focus on controversies in 'public forums' (Callon et al., 2009).For Feenberg, these types of conflicts may lead to desirable change, because they are driven by technology critique based on lay experience.
Given the nature of public controversies and the ambition to facilitate technological change, Feenberg's alignment with ANT is understandable.However, the early works in STS to which Feenberg refers can be further considered to enhance critical constructivism's contribution to controversy studies.
The history of controversy studies is richer than Feenberg recognizes.Contrary to the view that in-house controversies have been of predominant interest in STS, public controversies have been scrutinized before the rise of ANT (Martin and Richards, 1995;Elam, forthcoming).
Rather than understanding STS as constitutive of a divide between the study of strictly scientific controversies and public controversies, one might speak of different theoretical modes of analysis.One can distinguish at least four historical approaches (Martin and Richards, 1995): 'the Positivist Approach'; the 'Group Politics Approach' as developed by Nelkin (1979); the 'Constructivist Approach' as forwarded by the Sociology of Scientific Knowledge; and the 'Social Structural Approach', which relied on overarching concepts such as 'class' and 'capitalism'.What these modes imply is that divergent points of departure have addressed similar types of controversies.
References to anything close to structural approaches in STS are absent in Feenberg, despite theirat least superficiallyintuitive similarities with the structural thinking of the Frankfurt School.Considered this way, it becomes less understandable why Feenberg addresses the 'normative deficit' of constructivism instead of addressing theory in STS that at least partly shares his sympathies (Feenberg, 2017a, p. 16).
I will extract one core insight from the structural approaches that I argue can improve contemporary controversy studies.This is the insight that the 'closure' of controversies can be accomplished by the 'hegemony of dominant social structure[s]' (Martin and Richards, 1995, p. 519).In doing so, STS can be reminded that controversies often end up in unreflective technical procedures characterized by power imbalances (Wynne, 1982).
From this perspective, critical constructivism appears less as entirely novel.Rather, it shares a pre-existing spirit of 'structural critique'.Feenberg appears more correct, however, when stating that something resembling such a critique is currently underprivileged in controversy studies.
Controversy studies today are 'synonymous with practices of controversy and issue mapping' (Elam, forthcoming).Here, the legacy of controversy studies is nurtured, primarily in the tradition of ANT, albeit with novel methods for mapping, overviewing, and critically considering public controversies (Venturini and Munk, 2021).This evolution of controversy studies has implications for the structural approach to controversies because ANT typically neglects the analysis of inert controversies.Below, I will address the achievements of contemporary controversy studies and consider the implications for understanding closure as determined by social structures.
Achievements and limitations of ANT and controversy mapping Controversy mapping's novel methodologies facilitate following the diverse critiques formulated by different actors during controversy, thus showing how a technically formulated problem is challenged andpotentiallytransformed (Schouten, 2014).
Callon and colleagues are crucial precursors to these achievements (2009).For example, their notion of technical democracy is based precisely on the study of controversies in NWM.Lay actors engaged in controversy often contribute to unpredictable outcomes, thus potentially enriching otherwise reductionist framings of technology.When technical projects move out from secluded forums into the public realm, 'questions that were thought to have been settled definitively are reopened.Arguments multiply and the project constantly overflows the smooth framework outlined by its promoters' (Callon et al., 2009, p. 15).
The hybridity of divergent knowledges that emerge in controversy constitutes their democratic potential.Overflows, that is, technological concerns that exceed reductionist technocratic frameworks, are not irrational from this perspective.They may contribute to informed decision-making (Callon et al., 2009).
ANT-style controversy studies are empirically rigorous.However, the concept of technical democracy is made possible through not only empirical rigor, but also through the theoretical rejection of overarching categories.That is, a priori concepts such as class, capitalism, and interests.These rejections are important points of departure for ANT, but are also the basis of a critique aimed at macro theories in general.
Callon and colleagues argue that their situated approach frees them from 'a set of categories and grand narratives that conceal, to the point of making invisible, anonymous, collective, stubborn work that, day after day, brings dialogic democracy into existence' (Callon et al., 2009, p. 225).Similarly, controversy mapping typically holds that 'social studies of controversies should not seek to impose their own theoretical definition of what is at stake in controversy' (Marres and Moats, 2015, p. 3).Hence, 'STS methods are useful insofar as they explicitly recognize the "heterogeneous" constitution of the object of analysis' (Marres and Moats, 2015, p. 12).
Given controversy mapping's emphasis on the empirical, in controversies where heterogeneous depictions of the object are not explicit, it appears difficult to engage in the unvoiced democratic issues that controversies imply.Doing so would require imposing overarching concepts upon the empirical material.So, the effect of this rejection of overarching concepts is that controversies that are not explicitly heterogeneous become inaccessible from a scholarly perspective.Not all controversies are open to the voicing of broad concerns, however (Barthe et al., 2020).While ANT equips STS scholars with potent ways to sort out the rough-and-tumble of volatile controversies, they elaborate less on the broader issues implied by controversies where lay actors do not voice broader concerns, and where technocratic frameworks are left intact.
The question is how scholars might approach such controversies if STS is not simply to abstain from engagement.Below, I seek to refine the attempt to infuse critical constructivism in STS by tending to the problem of inert controversies.I will propose that the idea of structural closure lends critical constructivism additional legitimacy in contemporary STS.

Critical constructivism and structural closure
ANT accuses overarching concepts of concealing actors' diligent and unpredictable work during controversies.ANT, however, can thus be accused of neglecting the stable, overarching patterns of domination that arguably condition socio-technical arrangements (Saito and Pahk, 2016).
Although overarching concepts do not necessarily reject the prevalence of heterogeneity, they offer tools to critique (and explain) 'inert' situations where consensus reigns, where critical voices are circumscribed by procedural objectivity, and where voiced contention is limited to technical details.Such cases set themselves apart not by their vibrancy, but by their inertia.In a sense, these are 'cold' controversies as opposed to 'hot' controversies, to use Callon's distinction (1998, p. 261).In cold situations it is seen as enough to call upon experts.In inert controversies, however, both technical and non-technical actors can participate and still not render situations hot.In these sorts of controversies, I argue, closure is not necessarily achieved through processes of participation, but by structural preconditions.Critical constructivism's critical legacy incorporates this insight and this critique does not rest on the existence of overflows.
A core structure that critical constructivism critiques is a modern culture that subsumes social life under a dominant scientific-technical rationality (Feenberg, 2017a(Feenberg, , 2017b)).Although generally understood as neutral, technical rationality enforces particular hegemonic values (such as efficiency) by means of calculation and technology.Using Lukács's concept of reificationthe process of reduction during which the historical contingency and the broader associations of objects (and subjects) are forgottencritical constructivism proposes that 'capitalism imposes a rational culture that privileges technical manipulation over all other relations to reality' (Feenberg, 2017a, p. 42).While other forms of rationality may invoke, for example, experience as a basis for critique, technical rationality attaches little importance to experience, often maligning it for its 'subjectivity'.
Controversies over rationalities' divergent values in critical constructivism take place in the 'technosystem'.That is, 'the field of technically rational disciplines and operations associated with markets, administrations, and technologies' (Feenberg, 2017a, p. x).Technologies are thus not isolated entities but rely on and perpetuate the instrumental goals guiding rational institutions.Despite the pervasiveness of technical rationality, however, the imposition of these reductionist forms on both nature and society, which primarily serve the functions of a hegemonic capitalist system, can be dereified, that is, counteracted by the formulation of critique that takes into account a broader spectrum of objects' and subjects' associations and historical contingencies.This provides the opportunity to critique controversies when the empirical material is devoid of explicit heterogeneity, and which are indeed cold.
Understanding the present controversy this way, however, is complicated by critical constructivism's current emphasis on change.Feenberg is not oblivious to ANT's critique of structural thinking.He has adapted his concepts accordingly in order to evade Frankfurt School-type critiques that may favor 'dystopian' conclusions (Feenberg, 2017a, p. 42).Critical constructivism has assimilated the critique that 'one of the hazards of structural analysis is when the structures are assumed to take on a reality and a solidity that removes the prospect for struggle and change' (Martin and Richards, 1995, p. 516).Thus, Feenberg has developed concepts that will not a priori render lay intervention meaningless.
To counteract dystopian thinking, critical constructivism elaborates on 'democratic interventions' (Feenberg, 1999).These are 'the actions of citizens involved in conflicts over technology' (Feenberg, 2017a, p. 53).Controversies are 'rooted in … "participant interests" that emerge from specific social contexts.These interests represent values denied by the exclusive emphasis on narrowly conceived instrumental goals in modern societies' (Feenberg, 2017b, p. 99).Rather than waiting for revolutions or resorting to defeatism, Feenberg proposeslike contemporary STSthat democratic interventions can improve technical democracy.Critical constructivism's intention is thus not to force all study of technology to conform to a standard critique.The 'double aspect of rationality' means that technical rationality is not all encompassing but context bound, with particular local features and consequences (Feenberg, 2017a, p. 63).Feenberg's understanding of rationality is that it is simultaneously structural and contextual.While technical rationality is the departure for his critique, rationalities that may or may not contradict the dominance of technical rationality must be studied empirically in their local context.However, when the heterogeneity of actors' rationalities does not engender progressive change, there is reason to dwell on the more 'dystopic' aspect of controversies.In critical constructivism, this is made possible through a definition of controversy that potentially encompasses a broader range of technological action than contemporary STS does.Interventions are simply 'the actions of citizens involved in conflicts over technology' (Feenberg, 2017a, p. 53).According to this definition, any kind of public controversy is within reach for scholarly scrutiny.By emphasizing structural closurethe idea that closure can be achieved by factors outside of the immediate context of the arena in which the conflict is being wagedand by downplaying the expectation that lay actors will challenge the assertions of technical rationality, inert controversies can be fitted within this broader definition.
Consequently, the view on controversies in critical constructivism and its broader definition of technical conflictminus Feenberg's current preponderance for theorizing changecan be used to address inert controversies.In what follows, I will explore the structural preconditions that had bearing on the controversy in Court.I will also explain how these preconditions contributed to shaping and asymmetrically favoring particular forms of rationalities.
Early Swedish nuclear debate: engaged publics and political critique Nuclear power was developed to conform to certain economic requirements.Its central task was to remedy energy shortages in Swedish industry following the 1970s oil crises, and to secure domestic energy production.Although forwarding these technical-rational values, and despite great pro-nuclear confidence in the potential of fission, nuclear power became one of the most controversial issues on the political agenda.It was typically discussed as interrelated also with broader issues of labor, risk, and environmental justice (Anshelm, 2000;Anshelm, 2006aAnshelm, , 2011)).
Whereas spent nuclear fuel was firstaccording to prevailing technology optimismunderstood as a potential asset for not-yet-existing technologies to exploit (primarily in more advanced reactors that could extract more energy from the spent fuel), the lack of realization of such visions eventually enforced the view that spent nuclear fuel was to be considered waste (Anshelm, 2006b).
The waste eventually became a significant source of controversy which presented additional problems for nuclear power.Not only did accidents such as the one at Three Mile Island trouble various publics, but nuclear power was also additionally burdened by its byproduct.The waste prompted significant extra-parliamentary engagement.Large marches against nuclear power were a recurring activity, and the anti-nuclear movement gathered a significant number of members.
On the parliamentary side in Sweden, however, conflict was waged by legislative means and by enrolling technical expertise (Sundqvist, 2002, p. 75).The Stipulation Act released in 1977 is the most famous outcome of these conflicts.The Act stated that the commissioning of new nuclear reactors required 'absolutely safe' waste disposal (SFS, 1977:140).This safety was to be guaranteed in advance by the nuclear industry.For many, the act was seen as the end for nuclear power; clearly, absolute safety was unachievable, even for a confident industry, used to speaking the language of technological rationality.
Ironically, the Act came to play a key role in the continuation of nuclear power.The schisms within the government elected in 1976, consisting of three partiesliberal agrarians, social liberals, and conservativesled directly to its dissolution in 1978 (Anshelm, 2000).The governmental breakdown was largely a result of the contradiction between conservatives' interpretation of 'absolute safety' as attainable, and liberal agrarians' interpretation of 'absolute safety' as unattainable.
The government delegated to industry the task of finding a technical response, rather than a political response in which different options were on the table, to the established high safety demands (Vedung, 1979, p. 26).In 1976 the Parliamentary Committee of Industry finally stated that the requirements were high, but that 'a draconian application of the safety demands is not intended' (Näringsutskottet, 1976).Hence, 'absolute safety' was proclaimed as being within reach of modern technology, thereby potentially saving nuclear power.The anti-nuclear purposes of the Act were not realized, and rationalities that emphasized the limitations of science were marginalized.Instead, the technically rational response was represented as rigorous, as not just safe, but as absolutely safe.
The response from the industry to the conflicts was the concept of 'Nuclear Fuel Safety' (Kärnbränslesäkerhet, KBS), an again, highly technical, multibarrier system for deep geological disposal.By the united efforts of 450 experts enrolled by industry, in less than a year, the KBS concept was presented (SKB, 1977;KBS, 1978;Sundqvist, 2002, p. 13).By forwarding the KBS as fundamentally safe, it constituted an important reference point for pro-nuclear actors when faced with the concerns of anti-nuclear actors.The KBS is thus the context-bound technical embodiment of political conflict between conservatives and industry on one side, and the liberal agrarians and the various parts of the environmental movement on the other (Anshelm and Galis, 2009).Now in its third edition (KBS 3), it has provided the foundation for implementing Swedish NWM since the 1970s (Elam and Sundqvist, 2009).It is a mainstay for legitimizingexisting and newnuclear power operations (Elam et al., 2010).
To deliver safety nonetheless required substantial industry efforts.A crucial task was to find a suitable material for enclosing the waste for 100,000 years.Early versions of KBS were designed to house vitrified waste, and the materials first suggested were lead and titanium (KBS, 1977).In 1978 these metals were abandoned in favor of copper, because it was assessed to be more corrosion resistant (KBS, 1978).The core benefit of copper is thus its alleged durability, that is, its ability to outlast tenacious radiation effects.In line with critical constructivism, this was a process of reification; as it now appeared, the politically controversial project of nuclear power hinged on the scientific ability to demonstrate the stability of copper.
By focusing on particular properties of copper, such as its 'thermodynamic stability', the heterogeneity of the material was reduced to a set of calculable variables.This was a crucial move away from public conflict to a technically rational scrutiny of technical details.Lingering critique was dismissed; it could be concluded with scientific authority that 'neither mechanical stresses nor corrosion attack can be expected to give rise to canister penetration within one million years' (KBS, 1978, p. 70).While the advancement of nuclear power now rested on the properties of copper, the technical work was framed as disinterested and apolitical (Figure 1).

From political to technical critique
A national referendum in 1980, initiated by actors who realized that KBS represented a threat to their anti-nuclear stance, produced an ambivalent result.The electorate voted 'yes' to nuclear power, but the 'yes' was conditional; nuclear reactors would be commissioned but on the condition that they would be dismantled by the year of 2010.Nuclear power was thus realized at a large scale with reference to the safe KBS, and the outcome of the referendum.As KBS was represented as a strictly technical project, a Swedish NWM system emerged as an administrative entity isolated from the broader politics of nuclear power (Nicklasson et al., 2008, p. 12).
While anti-nuclear movements had discussed nuclear power and waste as inseparable before the birth of KBS and the referendum, questions related to the later could no longer impact on the former.As nuclear power was perpetuated, political leaders set up an audit system entirely devoted to NWM, and the industry was delegated the entire responsibility to develop technical solutions to the waste problems (Sundqvist, 2002).According to critical constructivism, the divorce between energy policy and NWM is close to a technologically rational administrative procedure that creates a reified divide between nuclear power and its production of waste, thus making invisible the crucial function of NWM in legitimizing nuclear power operations.
For many engaged in anti-nuclear movements, the continued existence of the KBS represented definitive defeat.For the skeptics, the accumulation of waste guaranteed perpetual environmental risk.Many interpreted this as a situation in which alternative energy futures would never be fully realized.While there had been constant overflows even in the original merely technocratic frameworks, the technical and political evolution of NWM circumscribed the prospects for far-reaching change.A more closed system that treated nuclear waste in isolation from energy issues emerged.
The reified properties of copper are thus significant in relation to issues of nuclear power and NWM in Sweden.Following the techno-legal reframing of NWM, and the dent in the hope of the environmental movement, waning political critique was replaced by a scientific-technical critique of KBS 3 (Anshelm, 2006a).KBS 3 is thus close to what Marcuse has called a 'vehicle of reification'; it mystifies its social origins and the economic requirements to which it responds, it reduces political considerations to questions about technological feasibility (2002, p. 172).
In the Swedish technical landscape that emerged in the 1980s, technical debate prevails at the expense of broader issues.SKB's corrosion claims have repeatedly been challenged by researchers from the Royal Institute of Technology (KTH) who insist that copper corrodes a mere 100 years after disposal (Orring, 2017).The corrosion debate in Sweden, however, distinguishes itself in that corrosion has become a public issue.Finland by contrastwhile also having adopted SKB's concept of KBS 3has treated corrosion as an issue purely for experts (Litmanen et al., 2017).
In Sweden, the controversy has found its way outside academia and into the now considerably smaller environmental movement, mostly consisting of specialized NGOs that now favor technical critique, especially related to corrosion (MKG, 2013).Similarly, high-ranking politicians rarely mention the broader implications, preferring to refer to repository issues as determined by the properties of copper (Westerholm, 2008).While being represented as a wholly technical issue, engagement in questions about corrosion has still appeared as a viable route for what is left of the anti-nuclear environmental movement to intervene in the NWM program.

Rational institutions and a technical audit system
In 2017, the copper controversy was one of the few remaining obstacles to repository implementation.However, it was not just a scientific obstacle, for the project of convincing the legislative bodies was equally important for both repository opponents and proponents.A handful of technically rational institutions, one of which being the Court, now would have to evaluate these divergent scientific and technical claims.
What was to be decided was whether SKB's application was acceptable according to the Environmental Code (SFS, 1998:808), one of two laws regulating NWM.While the Court safeguards the Environmental Code, the Radiation Safety Authority (SSM) safeguards the Nuclear Technology Act (SFS, 1984:3) alongside its own regulations (SSMFS, 2008:21).The Nuclear Technology Act replaced the Stipulation Act in the 1980s with more modest safety demands.Instead of 'absolute safety' it speaks of 'safely handling' nuclear waste.
The audit procedure according to the Nuclear Technology Act is characterized by a certain predictability.Organized around a cyclical system, the industry presents its research every three years in reports known as 'FUD' (SKB, 2007).These are audited by the SSM.Years before the Court hearings, SSM was already 'cautiously optimistic' about SKB's application (Kleja, 2015).
Possibly, the two laws embodied divergent rationalities.Importantly, the Land and Environment Court and the Environmental Code are significantly younger than the Nuclear Technology Act.It appeared more difficult to predict the Court's assessment of the SKB application compared to the cautiously optimistic SSM.Moreover, the ethical foundations of the Environmental Code differ from those of the Nuclear Technology Act.It regulates a much broader environmental area than just nuclear activities (Naturskyddsföreningen, 2020).It upholds sustainable development, biodiversity, protection of nature reserves, and protection against pollution, and promotes housekeeping of resources.Another novelty was the Court's transparency.While SSM's audit is performed in secluded forums, the Court is more open.Anyone who wants to can partake if the Court is notified beforehand.
The Court consists of legal experts and scientific experts.Judges have legal training, whereas their technical counsels are scientifically trained.Technical counsels are formally employed by the Court, and thus contribute scientific-technical knowledge in a variety of legal issues.While applications to the Court can be approved without negotiations, negotiations take place if there are formal objections to the application.NGOs and KTH metallurgists had such objections.
What remains to be analyzed are the happenings in Court, through my remodeled critical constructivist framework, and through the deployment of STS methods.I next will review my ethnographic material consisting of participant observation of four weeks of Court hearings, the parties' written pleas, policy documents, as well as participation in informal settings such as NGO meetings.During the process, I made notes that were subsequently developed into more coherent narratives.I also recorded audio, which allowed me to return to specific details of events, as well as to provide direct quotes from the participants.
Although Feenberg is not specific about what constitutes 'STS methods', it is often, at least in recent years, associated with participant observation.My reason for utilizing participant observation is to account for the 'contextbound realization of rationality' (Feenberg, 2017a, p. 15).Ethnography enables studying the practical implications of rationalities and offers richer descriptions of controversies.This gives scholars 'access to a wider array of information when they look at periods of active controversy than when they look at periods after controversies have been resolved' (Sismondo, 2010, p. 125).

The realization of rationality in court
The Court was one of the few remaining arenas in which interventions in the KBS 3 project, and by extension in nuclear power, could be made before the government could make its final decision.It was a welcome event for most participants.The first day in Court was solemn, and the negotiations constituted a milestone in a long engagement of work for either the progression or the abolition of the longstanding repository plans.'This is what I have been working toward my entire career,' an industry expert said.There appeared to be consensus about the esteemed character of the Court, and expectations of a fair procedure.
The rarity of the procedure was also reflected in the change of venue from the Court's regular headquarters to a conference facility capable of accommodating the unusually large number of participants.There was a sense that the hearings constituted a new starting point for the actors, a novel stage for debate.Importantly, among certain participants the Court was understood as an opponent of the industry.A local NGO representative expressed this view by explaining that the Environmental Code upholds values otherwise missing in NWM: The Environmental Code is our guiding star.Who is responsible for the repository after it has closed?Who is financially responsible?We are all responsible for the environment.These are moral questions, and this Court is connected to morals.(Excerpt from field notes) The assessment according to the Environmental Code and the Nuclear Technology Act still included a range of prerequisites that all the actors in the Court would have to obey.The administrative organization that emerged in the 1970s and 1980s which emphasized technical rather than moral scrutiny of the NWM conditioned the hearings.The Court, just as SSM and despite the hopes of the NGO view described above, is governed by fairly technical legislation.
A more striking feature than the Court's morals that NGOs hoped would permeate the hearings was the separation between nuclear power and waste, and between facts and values.This is not just a product of technical legislation, but in Sweden there is a culture of 'leaving the political at the door' in matters of NWM.'Old' conflicts surrounding nuclear power are understood to be destructive.A recurrent expert statement illustrating this view was that 'it is important not to mix facts with opinions'.However, this view was harbored not solely by experts: A social democratic municipal politician who had been working with reviewing NWM for decades told the Court about the work that has been carried out so far in the municipality.Even though consisting of political opponents, the working groups that evaluate the nuclear industry's technical reports are 'not about being political'.The common denominator is to find 'a safe solution to the radioactive waste problem'.(Excerpt from field notes) Put differently, long gone are the days of political conflict; 'the political' has been replaced by technological scrutiny.This context-bound realization of technical rationality constitutes a rather uniform culture of confidencethat is, across the variety of actorsin the apolitical character of 'safety'.
The Court's 'explicit values', which NGOs hoped would expose the technological deficits of KBS 3, or indeed overflow the technocratic framework, were not a characterizing feature.Instead, the Court intensified the technical focus.The clearest example of this is the importance attached to quantifiable data.Crucially, the Environmental Code is expressed in terms of quantitative criteria.Early during the negotiations, the Court, SSM, and SKB agreed to employ the 'risk criterion' for radiation levels developed by SSM (SSMFS, 2008:21) in the Court's assessment according to the Environmental Code.The criterion is designed to set radiation dosage limits, a quantitative device for protecting human health that is defined as follows: The yearly harmful effects cannot exceed 10 −6 (one in a million).Harmful effects refer to cancer and genetic defects.(Land and Environment Court, 2018, p. 242) 1 The Court's main concern was thus to determine whether the technical presentations satisfied this criterion.Consequently, the Court's questions were technical and encouraged experts to convey certainty about their calculations.
There were few attempts to explicitly politicize the Court process, and those attempts that did take place met with little success (see excerpt below describing such an incident).This was due to the judicial rationality of the Court which was characterized by its ambition to be impartial, thus adhering to a view that values and facts are to be kept disparate.As its mission was to scrutinize technical details to avoid bias, however, the attempt to remain neutral reinforced the preoccupation of technical rationality.This neutrality was an honest attempt at advancing justice, not a concealed attempt to favor one side, as far as I could tell.
Yet neutrality in this case was illusory.The Court's ambitions to remain neutral prompted it to exclude statements that were not directly related to the issues specified in the application and the predetermined agenda, or that did not correspond to the technical goals of the Environmental Code.Any 'political' statements were thus interrupted.The environmental movementto the extent that it triedwas unable to critique KBS on basis of personal experience, for example.The example below illustrates the attempt by an NGO member to argue that there is a general tendency in industry to deny any liability for the problems they cause: After having told of her work as a farmer and her love of sailing in the Baltic, she made connections between the nuclear industry and actors who pollute the oceans.In her view, all industries deny liability for the problems they cause.The judge soon interrupted her and said that her statements were beyond the scope of the hearings.After the reprimand, she turned to matters of climate change, demanding that SKB should achieve 'zero emissions'.Once again, the judge interrupted her.'What is the question for SKB?' he wondered.'This is a point of view, not a question.'(Excerpt from field notes) As evidenced by the quote above, it was not entirely for a lack of divergent rationalities that the technical focus emerged.While some NGOs understood the repository application as being solely about science and technology, others did not.Some NGOs and lay actors clearly interpreted the hearings as a 'political struggle' between 'left and right', or between 'ordinary people' and industry.Such statements were voiced in informal settings where issues of NWM were addressed in broader terms.Yet, they received little or no attention in Court.Instead, it became increasingly clear that the corrosive properties of copper would be of paramount importance.The technically rational understanding of the KBS 3 project prevailed over any attempt to situate the controversy in a broader context.

Instrumental metallurgy
The efforts of the Court to limit political input and subjective experience constituted fertile soil for scientific controversy.Although the issue of who is responsible for the long-term safety of the repository was addressed in Court, the main source of discernable conflict was not intra-generational equity, energy policy, or any other contentious issue.It was soon clear that copper corrosion was going to be the main focus.The risk criterion and the conception of objects as apolitical paved the way for technical debate.Corrosion produced the most intense (visible) emotions and outbursts: During a KTH metallurgist's presentation, the opposing metallurgists seemed disturbed by what was being said, as evidenced by talking and agitated whispering among themselves.When the Court opened for questions after the presentation, scientists departed from Court procedure and did not wait for their turn to speak.They spoke without microphones, even though this was prohibited, shouted across the courtroom, interrupting each other.For the first time the judge had to ask participants to stick to Court procedure.(Excerpt from field notes) The conflict constituted a peculiar stalemate.How was one to know what was true?For the experts, the response was to double down on their technical messages.Uncertainty was to be remedied by increasingly confident calculations.In the example below, SKB confidently addresses the risk of corrosion: With pessimistic assumptions about … copper corrosion … the radiological risk associated with … corrosion is assessed as being non-existent for tens of thousands of years … , at most one hundredth of the risk limit in 100,000 years' time, and a tenth of the risk limit in one million years' time.(SKB, 2011b, p. 18) Although one metallurgist admitted the difficulty (not impossibility) of predicting the evolution of copper corrosion, much more common was the certainty conveyed by metallurgists.The objective on both sides was to speak to scientific rigor, and expertise, sometimes resorting to clichés: If you want to invoke a scientific authority in this situation, then you can listen to the words of Albert Einstein.Among other things, he said that 'experiment is the supreme judge'.Well, it may seem a bit defiant to stand here before the Court and say who the judge is, but as everyone understands, my intention is not to repudiate the Court in any way, but rather to say how things are in the scientific world.Here, it is the hard experimental facts that apply and we need to seek the facts in order to answer this question [about corrosion].(Direct quote from recording) However, both sides understood 'the hard facts' as being on their side.The KTH researchers also devoted substantial amounts of time to demonstrating their scientificity: A KTH metallurgist referred to his own experiments as robust.'There is nothing to talk about, these are facts,' he said.He was also making a distinction between those who produce 'real publications' in scientific journals and those who produce 'internal reports'.He belonged to the former group, and SKB's experts to the latter.(Excerpt from field notes) The industry's response to the technical critique was also technical.In Court, SKB became known for its lengthy presentations as it sent expert after expert up to the podium to deliver scientific calculations, often for a full 180 min, which was the limit for individual presentations.The technical experts explained the faulty results of their opponents by highlighting deficient scientific practice and/or a lack of competence.On a few occasions, the experts were prompted by the audience to reflect upon the reasons for the diverging assessments.Were the divergent factual claims a sign of lack of knowledge?The idea that uncertainty was an inevitable feature of corrosion was, however, dismissed: The KTH researcher answered that, yes, there is a certain amount of lack of knowledge.However, the knowledge that does exist already shows that copper will in fact corrode.(Excerpt from field notes) On rare occasions, however, there were insights into non-technical aspects of the repository issue.As seen below, there was a brief excursion into the nontechnical aspect of the application that was not interrupted by the Court.This illustrates that a strictly technically rational understanding of repository issues was not entirely unchallenged: An environmental organization spokesperson explained that the organization provides 'the laypeople's perspective' on repository issues.It is neither primarily technical nor judicial, but focuses on 'public interest'.In making a distinction between 'environmental problems' and 'industry problems', the spokesperson said that a credible process must solve the former.He asked, how is it that an industry problem is transformed into a joint problem?'We all have a moral responsibility for the environment, but the industry is responsible for its own waste.'The spokesperson said that there are uncertainties relating to science, and that if the outcome of the KBS 3 project did not materialize as expected, this had to be taken into consideration beforehand.(Excerpt from field notes) This rare explicit lay perspective can be contrasted with the environmental NGOs that undertook an attack on KBS 3 on scientific grounds.While such a strategy may appear counterintuitive, given NGOs' 'traditional' political critique, it is easy to understand, given the systemic technical preoccupation.This was a strategy to beat technocracy at its own game, rather than to invoke personal experience or lay rationality.
For instance, some NGOs sought to show that SSM had not taken into consideration the conflicting evidence surrounding corrosion.In a heated exchange, SSM defended its technical integrity against an NGO attack that sought to demonstrate that the authority had intentionally withheld expert opinions on corrosion.Even though public media coverage was scarce, the disclosing of withheld scientific evidence and defecting experts in SSM generated some media interest (SVT, 2018).
The technical strategies of the NGOs gained some traction but came at a price.Since technical critique must be backed up by appropriate knowledge, the NGOs needed to rely on technical expertise.The alliance between the KTH experts and the various NGOs is longstanding, yet unorthodox.While the KTH metallurgists delivered a welcome message about corrosion that helped the NGOs' case, certain members were hesitant to fully endorse the counter-expert metallurgists.Mainly, this was because it had come to their attention that a few KTH researchers owned a generation IV nuclear reactor company (Orring, 2016).Generation IV reactors use spent nuclear fuel to produce energy.Thus, the metallurgists potentially had an economic interest in keeping spent nuclear fuel above ground.
Moreover, several of the KTH metallurgists had previously jointly applied for a patent for an alternative titanium canister (Karlberg, 2009).For some NGOs, the KTH metallurgists' message about copper was on point, but potential ulterior motives were troubling.The NGOs discussed this issue outside of Court, but never addressed it in session.Nor did any of the other parties.Essentially, the rationality of the Court did not allow for both concerns to be voiced simultaneously.The NGOs had to choose.

Structural closure
Reification thus persisted as the objective properties of copperfrom start to finishwere represented as the determinant of the legitimacy of the repository project, rather than the social and political context in which debates over copper emerged.The Court's final assessment was that the overall application was satisfactory, except for the copper corrosion issue that was too burdened by the conflicting scientific evidence.The Court needed more scientific evidence, which was seen as a landslide victory for the NGOs critical of KBS 3. The director of the Swedish NGO office for Nuclear Waste Review, concluded that 'this is a victory for us and for the scientists that have had doubts about copper as a canister material.From now on, the work on evaluating safer disposal solutions will continue' (MKG, 2018).The NGOs' stated goal was thus not to formulate alternative energy futures, but to support safer technologies for final disposal of spent nuclear fuel.
The Court's assessment did not refer to the Environmental Code's moral principles.The preservation of wildlife, sustainable development, and other principles of the Code that were conceived by NGOs as incompatible with KBS 3 were not violated by the application, according to the Court.Although the Court did raise the issue of 'long-term responsibility', it was primarily the uncertainty surrounding corrosive processes that spoke against the legislative criterion of acceptable risk.Because of the 100,000-year time frame, the Court said it could accept minor uncertainties, but that the demands placed upon the application should be met at the time of the assessment.The Court explained that: … there is certain room for accepting further uncertainties.However, the uncertainties regarding certain forms of corrosion and other processes are so serious that the Court cannot, considering SKB's safety analysis, come to the conclusion that the risk criterion in the regulations of the Radiation Safety Authority is met.The current bases [for the application] do not give, in an overall assessment in accordance with the Environmental Code, enough support for the long-term safety of the repository.(Land and Environment Court, 2018, p. 9) SSM made its announcement earlier the very same day, officially approving SKB's application.The two assessments and rationalities behind them can easily be interpreted as being radically divergent.But I wish to argue that two assessments were strikingly similar, and their discrepancies came down to a small detail.In SSM's assessment according to the Nuclear Technology Act, it stated that SKB had the prerequisites for achieving safety.In other words, what was currently missing in terms of scientific certainty could be remedied later.The Court, on the other hand, argued that safety to a greater extent must be proven a priori, thus asking for more scientific calculation.
In the end, the two parties adopted virtually the same form of rationality which prioritized scientific-technical scrutiny of details in a pre-existing technological framing.This closure cannot be understood as the sole result of the strategies of debate employed in Court but, I argue, was the result of a (technically rational) culture that has evolved over time.Understanding the conditions of the controversy requires contemplating that which was not immediately present during the proceedings, that is, the structures that conditioned the scope of the conflicts.

Conclusions
Contemporary STS assigns analytical priority to overflowing controversies, where lay actors enrich their narrowly construed technocratic frameworks.As I have argued from the case at hand, however, there are controversies where structural conditions minimize overflows and perpetuate technocratic frameworks.Such, narrow outcomes warrant theoretical concepts that critically analyze the status quo and how it is maintained.I deployed critical constructivism, which uses overarching concepts to critique hegemonic structures (see Feenberg, 2017a).However, critical constructivism, as well as contemporary STS, assigns priority to overflows, albeit using other terms.To make critical constructivism more useful for the present controversy, I called upon Feenberg's critical legacy, rather than his ideas about technological change.By combining the longstanding STS idea of structural closure with Feenberg's critical concepts, I explained the inertia of the corrosion controversy through the adoption of technical rationalities.
In my analysis, I sought to contribute to the dereification of the reified forms of copper that prevailed in Court.I did so primarily by bringing to light the historical contingency of the conflicts over nuclear power and NWM in Sweden, thus remembering the basis of the technical conflict that the actors in Court either did not address or know.I also employed overarching theories which understand technologies as embedded in technically rational systems of administrations, markets, and organizations.Rather than highlight the volatility of controversies (see Callon et al., 2009), this perspective identified how lay agency and rationality were severely limited by a form of technical rationality.It did not surface in the immediate judicial context but can be traced back to the Swedish organization of NWM that emerged in the 1970s and 1980s.
Lay actors made objections that contradicted the technocratic framework, implying heterogeneous rationalities that contradicted technical rationality.However, the Court's judicial rational character rejected any digression from its agenda by classifying those objections as 'political'.The analysis simultaneously showed broad consensusa shared conception between rationalities that at least superficially placed great faith in the justice of the Court, and that honored the value of seemingly neutral science.This controversy implies that there are not necessarily incompatible differences between the heterogeneous rationalities.It is clear that the lay interventions did not dereify the controversy but rather perpetuated the reductive categories of the pre-existing system: that is, a preoccupation with 'facts' and the imposition of technologically rational forms upon copper.By accepting the technical properties of copper as the main issue, the Court pre-empted any questions of, for example, nuclear power's continued existence.From this perspective, the Court's final assessment appears as a weaker lay victory than the lay actors understood it because the broader concerns that they occasionally sought to voice remained largely unspoken.
Critical constructivism has been moving away from its predecessor's dystopic conclusions, which some see as a dead-end.Yet my case study shows that those critical concepts' provide a necessary critique otherwise scarce in contemporary STS.Given the inert character of the present controversy, to deploy contemporary STS concepts pertaining to volatility and change would arguably miss the point when analyzing similarly inert controversies.
In the case of the NWM controversy, by using critical concepts, we can better understand the damage done by technical rationality to technical democracy that is not easily mendable.Although the Court did loosen somewhat the certainty around the material properties of nuclear waste containers, it reinforced real obstacles to far-reaching change.I argue that this critique is only made tangible through overarching concepts like technical rationality and reification.
For environmental movements the results imply the need to consider alternative routes for intervention and how to identify or create them.The question could be raised whether institutions based on technical rationality are suitable arenas for intervention at all.If repeated controversies strengthen the technosystem, or at least fail to open up alternatives, the value of controversies is questionable.According to this view, critical analysis of the present controversy is not dystopic.On the contrary, it identifies where change cannotor possibly couldbe achieved.Thus there are open questions about convergences and divergences of critical constructivist and contemporary STS concepts for understanding both inert and overflowing controversies.
Hence, this paper calls for STS to broaden its studies of technological controversies.For the NWM case, undemocratic tendencies are arguably best detected and critiqued by overarching concepts.While some controversies might hold potential for technical democracy, others are institutionally conditioned to restrict prospects for change.By recognizing the different contexts for lay intervention, STS can better identify where hope for technical democracy is warranted, and where it is not.Note 1. Excerpts and quotations have been translated from Swedish to English by the author.

Disclosure statement
No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author(s).

Notes on contributor
Hannes Lagerlöf is a PhD student of sociology (with a special focus on science and technology studies) at the Department of Sociology and Work Science at the University of Gothenburg, Sweden.His research is empirically about nuclear waste management and theoretically about the relationship between politics and technology.

Figure 1 .
Figure 1.Demonstration of a copper canister in an SKB showroom.Credit: reproduced with permission of the author.