A drone struck the cooling tower of a reactor unit at the Kursk nuclear power plant in Russia. The International Atomic Energy Agency announced it, which means the information comes from neither of the two warring sides.

According to the statement, the unit was operating at the moment of impact, the operating regime did not change and there was no fire. In other words: this time it passed. That is the entire difference between a news item and a catastrophe - and that difference was decided by the trajectory of one drone.

The agency's director general Rafael Grossi said that all attacks on nuclear facilities are unacceptable, because they could endanger nuclear safety, regardless of where they happen. The phrase "regardless of where" is not diplomatic decoration - it is the only way the same rule applies to both the Zaporizhzhia and the Kursk plants, and in this war both have found themselves on the wrong side of somebody's sights.

An appeal instead of a mechanism

Grossi repeated his call for maximum military restraint to prevent the risk of a nuclear accident. That is all the agency can do - it has no soldiers, no air defence, and no power to order anyone not to fire. It has inspectors, statements and appeals. In the third year of a war, an appeal is the weakest tool on the table and still the only one it has.

The ordinary reader at this moment is not thinking about reactor units but about a cloud. Radiation does not need a visa, takes no interest in the front line and does not wait for a statement. Europe learned that in 1986, and ever since, every generation raised on the story of Chernobyl knows how far a problem travels once it starts moving.

That is why news of this kind is written in a dry, precise sentence rather than with an exclamation mark. How many times does something have to pass by a cooling tower before someone concludes that nuclear facilities must stay out of every set of crosshairs? For now the answer is: one more time. Every time, one more time.