France’s National Assembly has unanimously approved a landmark reform that makes it easier for people harmed by its nuclear tests in Polynesia and Algeria to obtain compensation. The vote marks an important development in how the French state recognizes responsibility for the legacy of its Cold War–era nuclear program.
Until now, victims had to clear a very high bar: they needed to prove that their cancer or other illness was individually caused by radiation from French tests, often decades after exposure. Lawmakers and victims’ groups described this as a “complex, even discouraging” procedure that left many claimants without redress.
The new law reverses that logic. Anyone who has a recognized radio‑induced disease and can show they were present in specified zones during defined periods of nuclear testing will now benefit from a “presumption of exposure”, rather than having to prove causality case by case. This presumption applies both to people directly exposed and to their eligible heirs, and it is retroactive, meaning pending claims will be reassessed under the new, more favorable rules.
Polynesian MP Mereana Reid Arbelot, co‑sponsor of the reform, greeted the 29 January 2026 vote with the words, “The National Assembly has just said, we are not forgetting you,” underscoring the symbolic weight of the decision for communities long fighting for recognition.
Background: France’s nuclear tests in Polynesia and Algeria
From 1960 to 1996, France conducted a total of 210 nuclear tests, first in the Algerian Sahara and later in French Polynesia. The earliest tests were carried out near Reggane and In-Ekker in what was then French Algeria; later, after Algerian independence, testing moved to atolls in the South Pacific.
The very first French nuclear device, code‑named “Gerboise Bleue,” was detonated near Reggane on February 13, 1960, with a yield of roughly 65–70 kilotons, about four to five times the power of the Hiroshima bomb. France went on to conduct four atmospheric tests at the Reggane site and 13 underground nuclear explosions at In-Ekker before ending Saharan testing in 1966. Subsequent investigations by the International Atomic Energy Agency and independent researchers have documented persistent contamination and long‑term radiological hazards at and around these sites, affecting local populations, military personnel and the environment.
In Polynesia, France carried out 193 additional tests at Mururoa and Fangataufa between 1966 and 1996, many of them underground but with documented atmospheric releases and fallout. For decades, affected communities in both Algeria and Polynesia have reported clusters of cancers and other serious illnesses that they link to these tests, and have demanded both individual compensation and broader recognition of environmental damage.
From the Morin law to a tougher presumption in favor of victims
Compensation has formally existed since 2010 under what is known as the Morin law, which set up the Committee for the Compensation of Victims of Nuclear Tests (CIVEN). That framework recognized 23 radio‑induced diseases and established that being present in certain zones at specific times, combined with having one of those illnesses, created a presumption of causality.
However, a 2018 change allowed CIVEN to reject claims if it calculated that the dose received was below 1 millisievert per year, a threshold contested by many scientists and activists. In practice, this dose criterion meant many applications were denied, even when people met the geographic and medical criteria.
However, a 2018 change allowed CIVEN to reject claims if it calculated that the dose received was below 1 millisievert per year, a threshold contested by many scientists and activists. In practice, this dose criterion meant many applications were denied, even when people met the geographic and medical criteria.
The new reform effectively removes this dose test and moves toward what lawmakers describe as an “irrefutable” presumption of state responsibility once the person’s presence in a test area and a qualifying illness are established. The state will also reimburse health‑insurance bodies, such as the Polynesian social security fund, for the cost of treating recognized radio‑induced diseases, acknowledging a collective financial obligation estimated in the hundreds of millions of euros.
Extending recognition to Algeria
A key political development in the new law is the explicit, though still partial, inclusion of Algeria. An amendment introduced by left‑wing MP Maxime Laisney requires the government to produce a report on French nuclear policy in Algeria and extends the new compensation rules to people present in “military centers” in the Sahara or in surrounding peripheral zones during the period of French tests.
Under this amendment, Algerian victims, or those present in Algerian test areas, regardless of nationality, who develop recognized radio‑induced illnesses will benefit from the same presumption of exposure as Polynesian claimants, rather than having to prove an individual causal link. Laisney welcomed the step but criticized the geographic scope for Algeria as too vague and too narrow, reflecting long‑standing concerns that many affected communities, including nomadic populations and downwind villages, remain outside formally defined zones.
Why this matters now
For survivors and families in Polynesia and Algeria, the reform is both material and symbolic. It should substantially increase the number of successful compensation claims by shifting the burden of proof away from individuals who, decades after the tests, often lack documentation or access to scientific expertise. It also represents a clearer acknowledgment by the French state that the health risks created by its nuclear testing program were not just hypothetical, but have produced real, ongoing harm that the state must remedy.
At the same time, environmental advocates and some lawmakers note that the new law focuses on bodies rather than landscapes. They argue that many of the test sites themselves remain contaminated, and that France still has work to do in fully assessing and cleaning up radioactive legacy sites in the Sahara and the Pacific. This reform is best understood as a late but significant step in a long struggle by communities in Polynesia and Algeria to have the human cost of France’s nuclear “force de frappe” finally recognized and, at least in part, repaired.
