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George Galatis was a senior engineer at Millstone Nuclear Power Station in Waterford, Connecticut, when he discovered something was dreadfully wrong. Spent fuel-rod pools at Unit 1 threatened to boil, potentially releasing radioactive steam throughout the plant. The pools were not designed to serve as nuclear dumps. During the refueling process, federal guidelines required antiquated plants like Millstone to move only one-third of the rods into the pools, but Galatis found all of the hot fuel had been dumped into them. On other occasions, alarms would sound as the fuel was unloaded just 65 hours after a shutdown, far sooner than the mandated cool-down period of 250 hours. Supervisors were winking at the routine violations in order to save two weeks of downtime, which would cost the company $500,000 per day in replacement power. Fearing the violations could lead to an accident threatening thousands of lives, Galatis told his colleague George Betancourt they should contact the Nuclear Regulatory Commission (NRC) immediately. Betancourt, who would join Galatis in attempts to make the plant safe, agreed but was concerned for his colleague's future. "You do that," he said, "and you're dog meat."The year was 1992. It now has been more than four years since Galatis made the March 4, 1996, cover of Time after crusading against unsafe practices at the nuclear power plant. Little noticed at the time were the biblical convictions that led him to stand up to his industry superiors.

When Galatis warned plant managers of the public-health risks and urged them to stop the hazardous practices, they refused. Since many of his supervisors were churchgoers, he was baffled. "This is business," he was told. "This isn't church." They in turn were baffled when Galatis would not let up. "This was not splitting hairs," Galatis says. "These were not technical issues. These were moral issues."Galatis warned his supervisors what could happen: eventual shutdown, decommissioning of the plants, and criminal investigations. But after two years, nothing had changed—except the workplace atmosphere in which Galatis found himself. When he sat down to lunch in the company cafeteria, coworkers left. When he entered a meeting, the room fell silent. Coworkers spread rumors that he was an alcoholic, and his performance evaluation suffered. An "all's well" attitude by the company and denial by his coworkers left Galatis with no easy choice. He could quit, follow his inkling to become a clergyman, and make it someone else's problem. Or he could stay and fight. Unlike any other time in his life, Galatis began an intense search for God's guidance. He awoke at 4 a.m. to pray, read Scripture, and record his struggles and thoughts in his journal. During lunch breaks, he sometimes drove to a secluded place to pray and search the Bible. It was during one of these prayer times that Galatis believed God whispered to him, "Will you die for me?" Though he feared for his safety at times, Galatis realized there were many ways of dying: his livelihood, his reputation, and his family were at stake. How many men in their early 40s can lose high-paying jobs and start a second career with ease? Past whistleblowers' families had brooked intense emotional strain. The recently remarried Galatis feared the pressures would threaten his second marriage. He believed that Northeast Utilities (NU), owner of the nuclear plants, would hire one of the nation's top law firms to fight him."I knew what the utilities could do, what the regulators could do, what the press could do, what the state government could do," Galatis says. But after months of prayer and study, he concluded that no matter how much he was badgered, God would not allow him to be devastated. In 1994 he decided to contact the NRC. Galatis knew the NRC had known about Millstone's dangerous practices for 10 years but had taken no action. Similar cases of lax enforcement by the NRC abounded, so he wasn't surprised when the agency offered him no refuge.Unfortunately, neither did his church. He felt members kept their distance, and he was dismayed that few Christians supported him. When disparaging comments about his character appeared in local newspapers, for example, no supportive letters to the editor came forth. When Galatis petitioned the NRC in August 1995 to suspend Millstone's license, his cause became public and the pressure on him increased. Coworkers confronted him in the hallways and in his office. Some called him a fool; others said he was a troublemaker. He was subtly intimidated and harassed for months, and coworkers often told him, "Shut up and keep your job."

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October 2 2000, Vol. 44, No. 11