Sellafield has long been an emotive issue in Ireland. At just 128 miles from Dublin, the plant is within spitting distance of Ireland's densely populated eastern seaboard. The Irish Sea is now the most radioactively contaminated in the world, while in the wake of 9/11 concerns about a terrorist attack on the plant briefly gripped the Irish popular imagination.

Unsurprisingly then, yesterday's announcement that the Mox plant is to cease operation has been welcomed by Irish activists, many of whom have been involved in decades-long campaigns opposing the facility. However, the closure is anything but the end of Sellafield's nuclear story.

Last October, the environment secretary, Chris Huhne – in a volte-face from previous Lib Dem energy policy – announced that eight new nuclear power plants are to be constructed across Britain. Only last month it was confirmed that Sellafield is to be the site of one such new reactor, to be built by 2025. It is widely expected that additional employment at the new facility will at the very least replace the 600 job losses announced yesterday.

It has now been almost 20 years since the United States last conducted a nuclear weapons test. For most Americans, nuclear weapon testing is not on their radar of concern. In fact, dangers of nuclear weapons are mostly easy to ignore nowadays. When I tell people about work on policies to prevent the spread of nuclear weapons, they’re only vaguely interested. When I try, “I’m working toward the ratification of the Comprehensive Nuclear Test Ban Treaty (CTBT),” I get complete incomprehension — eyes glaze over.

For me, this is not just another wonky issue. Nuclear nonproliferation and disarmament — specifically the CTBT — have been compelling work for me since the late ‘80s. Then, as an intern, I attended a press conference about efforts to achieve a permanent ban on nuclear testing and there heard about Women Strike for Peace. Theirs is a story that began in 1961 when it wasn’t possible to ignore dangers of nuclear weapons.