SALZ. TON. GRANIT.
Über nukleare Vergangenheiten
und strahlende Zukünfte
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Künstlerische Forschung
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Research Site: ÓFALU

19.04.25
Ófalu

Ófalu, a small village of 320 inhabitants in Baranya County, Hungary, holds a unique place in the country’s history as the most significant site for successful anti-nuclear resistance. This German-minority village traces its roots back to the eighteenth century, when German settlers repopulated the area abandoned in
the wake of Ottoman occupation. It thrived throughout the nineteenth century but started to decline beginning in 1890, when a devastating vine disease crippled the local wine industry. This was aggravated by the rise of rural-to-urban migration and the aftereffects of the two World Wars.

Nestled among picturesque hills, Ófalu remained isolated for much of its history. In fact, it was so remote that a concrete road to the village was only built in 1973, which earned its residents the nickname Heckentrapper, or “bush jumpers.” This remoteness has shaped Ófalu’s unique cultural and historical trajectory in unexpected ways. According to a local anecdote, Ófalu’s German population escaped the forced expulsion that followed the Second World War—a fate that befell many nearby villages, like Bátaapáti—simply because there was no road to the village. As a result, German minority culture has remained strong and well-preserved, with many residents still speaking the local German dialect, Ohfalarisch. However, Ófalu’s isolation has also led to less fortunate consequences, including gradual depopulation, which has put the village at risk of dying out.

This might also have contributed to the village being considered as a potential site for a nuclear waste repository. Shortly after the Paks Nuclear Power Plant (PNPP) became operational in 1985, plans emerged to build a radioactive waste storage facility in Ófalu, ominously referred to as a “nuclear cemetery.” The proposal came as a shock to the villagers, who were neither consulted nor informed. Initial discussions about the plan were met with resistance. When experts from the PNPP arrived in the village to hold information sessions, they were confronted by a local community determined to defend their home. What began as a critical exchange soon grew into a David-and-Goliath struggle between Ófalu and the powerful nuclear industry. This battle culminated in a major victory for the village: on 2 May 1988, the Baranya County Council’s construction department refused to approve the building permit for the nuclear waste site near Ófalu.

The resistance movement was characterized by grassroots organization and led by the local German minority’s folk-dance group, which comprised village youth, many of them university-educated, who were eager to stand up for their community. In the previous years, the group had found a legal loophole allowing them to run in the local elections, which resulted in their victory over the official Socialist Party candidate. Having achieved a leadership position through public office, the group felt energized and liberated to speak out freely against authority—something that had been occurring more and more throughout the politically volatile period of the late 1980s, leading up to Hungary’s political transition. As a result of their work, the largest anti-nuclear demonstration prior to the transition took place in Ófalu, involving four thousand people.

The villagers’ eventual victory was not only a result of their perseverance but was also reflective of the fragility and unpredictability of the period’s political landscape, which had also weakened the position of the Paks Nuclear Power Plant. The outcome of this struggle brought about significant changes: instead of seeking a merely acceptable waste storage site, the authorities were forced to look for a genuinely secure solution, leading to the development of deep geological disposal rather than the previously planned surface-level facilities. By the time the PNPP approached the nearby village of Bátaapáti with plans to build a radioactive waste repository just over the hill from Ófalu and on the other side of the same granite formation, their communication and attitude had radically changed. Rather than issuing orders, they offered the village compensation funding and the promise of other benefits—an indication of how Ófalu’s resistance had shaped the way these projects were to be handled in the future.