Monday, 6 August 2018

Confronting the Unspeakable. Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Beyond

Hiroshima, mid-morning, August 6th 1945

August is the time for calling to mind the atomic slayings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Seventy-three years ago, the Pentagon exacted a savage retribution for the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbour in December 1941. It also exercised its prerogative to "test" the effects of newly developed nuclear bombs on two cities and their unfortunate inhabitants.

The quaintly named Little Boy was an unearthly obscenity that tore history apart and changed life on the earth ever after. It was based on a very simple design. A relatively small pellet of highly enriched uranium (HEU) was shot into a larger block of highly enriched uranium. This produced a sufficient mass of heavy radioactive metal to start an unstoppable chain reaction that tore atoms apart and released an unspeakable fury of destructive energy. The entire city of Hiroshima was instantaneously transformed into a cindered atomic wasteland.

Some 70,000 lives were vaporised in an instant when the bomb detonated 600 metres above the city. It has been estimated that over the next five years, a further 130,000 people died as a result of injuries sustained in the initial blast and the longer term effects of radioactive fallout.

But the destruction of Hiroshima together with its inhabitants was not enough.

The torching of Nagasaki followed three days later. The bomb dropped on Nagasaki was a larger "device" than that gifted to Hiroshima and was of more complex design. It was cynically named Fat Man by its creators. It consisted of a central core of plutonium into which multiple explosive charges impelled smaller lugs of plutonium to bring it to critical mass. It “yielded” an explosive force equivalent to 22,000 tons of trinitrotoluene - TNT. Thus the wonders of human ingenuity, amoral engineering and value-free techno-chemistry.

The sheer criminality of the gratuitous atomic slaying of Nagasaki has been widely understood. The wise and compassionate Kurt Vonnegut Jr. offered his own thoughts at a public lecture commemorating the 50th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima on August 6th 1995:
"I have said, largely out of respect for my friend William Styron, an ex-Marine officer, who avers that he would be dead if it weren't for the bombing of Hiroshima, that the atrocity did indeed save the lives of many Americans and Japanese.

But a single word which I am about to utter proves to me that our democratically elected government has been and may still be capable of obscene, racist, high-tech, yahooistic even gleeful massacres of defenceless civilian populations. For the few of you who have not guessed that word, a foreign word, I will speak it now: Nagasaki."


Nagasaki, August 11th 1945

Hiroshima and Nagasaki were part of an infernal calculus coldly rationalised to test the effects of these finely wrought mechanical wombs of an inhuman energy. Hundreds of thousands of lives were extinguished in those two insane lashings. The lucky ones died immediately. The less fortunate ones dragged their flayed flesh and seared futures through agonising days and weeks. Tens of thousands walked silently as living ghosts through the ruins of what has been forgotten by so many in these amnestic times.

And where are we today? On a positive note, many of the 64,000 nuclear warheads that bristled into the 1980s have been dismantled. During this eighteenth year of the new millennium, we can all rest easier in the thought that a mere 14,500 nuclear infernos sit snugly in rocket cones stored in deep silos, on floating platforms, in the hardened steel chambers of sleek and silent submarines that cruise the world’s oceans, and in warehouses throughout the United States, the Russian Federation and the small but privileged "elite" group of nuclear-armed states.

Leaving aside the nightmarish consequences of a large scale nuclear war between the great powers, if a limited regional conflict between India and Pakistan in which each side "delivered" 50 relatively small Hiroshima-sized bombs against the other were to erupt, the lives of tens and possibly hundreds of millions of people would be destroyed, and the future of the inhabitants of both nations would be shredded. But it would not end there. In addition to producing radioactive fallout on a global scale, it has been widely recognised that such an event would both alter longer-term global temperature patterns and destroy much of the earth's protective ozone layer, thereby creating a state of global nuclear famine. In addition, the combination of widespread radioactive fallout and the destruction of the ozone layer would expose the cells of all living creatures to unpredictable genetic damage, thereby darkening even further an already darkened future. We have yet to fully comprehend the consequences for both humanity and for land-based and marine ecosystems of the meltdowns at Chernobyl and Fukushima.

It has recently been confirmed that the United States has slated more than US $1,200 billion for the maintenance and modernisation of its nuclear arsenal over the next 30 years. This is an inconceivable amount of money. In attempting to understand this in more concrete terms, consider the following:

A single $100 dollar bill is one tenth of one millimetre in thickness. A well compressed bundle of ten $100 bills, or $1,000 would therefore be one millimetre in thickness. A well compressed bundle of ten thousand $100 bills, or $1 million, would be one metre high. Consequently, $1 billion dollars would consist of a thin column of well-compressed $100 bills one kilometre high.

In other words, over the next 30 years, and apart from any other military expenditure, the United States intends to spend the equivalent of a length of well-compressed $100 bills extending from the Melbourne CBD to Lismore in northern New South Wales on upgrading its nuclear weapon systems. And this at a time when one person in ten on the earth has difficulty finding enough food to get from one day to the next, and so many in the so-called developed countries have difficulty getting by from one week to the next.

Meanwhile, base-line infrastructure throughout the United States begins to break down on multiple fronts  and the cooling ponds carrying much of the 70,000 tons of highly radioactive spent nuclear fuel from US nuclear reactors are full to overflowing with nowhere to go. Hmmm . . .

Russia and the other nuclear states meanwhile pursue their own far less extravagant, though no less obscene modernisation programs.

The lessons of the past have not been learned. The present Commander-in-Chief of the US military machine continues to use demonically-charged rhetoric in his provocations with nations that are deemed not to have toed the line sufficiently. In August 2017, Donald Trump threatened North Korea with "fire and fury like the world has never seen." A year later in July 2018, he issued the following warning to Hassan Rouhani, President of Iran: "Never, ever threaten the United States again or you will suffer consequences the likes of which few throughout history have ever suffered before. We are no longer a country that will stand for your demented words of violence and death. Be cautious!"

In the insane display of power and its exercise, there is never a shortage of demented words.

Confronting the Unspeakable

Setsuko Thurlow is one of the few remaining living witnesses of the horror unleashed over the city of Hiroshima on the morning of August 6th, 1945. In March 2017, she offered an extraordinary reminiscence of that day and its consequences for her life - and for our collective futures - at the Centre for International Studies and Diplomacy at the University of London.

Setsuko Thurlow has spent most of her adult life as an advocate and campaigner for the total abolition of nuclear weapons. She was one of the speakers at the inaugural meeting of the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN) in Canada in October 2007, and together with Beatrice Finn, ICAN's Executive Director, accepted the Nobel Peace Prize in Oslo in December 2017 on ICAN's behalf.

The embedded audio below offers an edited version of the presentation she gave in London in March 2017. In her talk, Setsuko Thurlow offers an unforgettable account of what happened at ground level in Hiroshima on the morning of August 6th, 1945.



Confronting the Unspeakable can be streamed using the media player above. A CD quality mp3 file can be downloaded from: https://archive.org/details/HiroshimaMemorialAugust2018

Production Notes

Voice
Setsuko Thurlow: A Voice From Hiroshima (SOAS, University of London, March 2017)
Music
Rodrigo Rodriguez: Aki (Internet Archive)
Remix/production 
Vincent Di Stefano

Hiroshima, late August 1945

RELATED POSTS


1. Thomas Merton and the Original Child Bomb

Original Child Bomb is one of a small number of pieces written by Thomas Merton which he describes as "anti-poems." It concerns the atomic slaying of Hiroshima. Merton's anti-poems are characterised by the conscious and ironic use of the debased, but now common-place language that masks the horror of genocide.

This post offers audio of a performance interpretation of the poem together with its full text.


 2. On the Ruin of Rongelap. When Protectors Become Destroyers

At the end of World War II, the Marshall Islands was handed over to the United States as a "Protectorate" by the United Nations. In June 1946, the US Navy "tested" a 23 kiloton bomb above Bikini Atoll. Over the next 12 years, the US detonated a further 66 nuclear and thermonuclear bombs in the Islands.

On the Ruin of Rongelap offers both an audio presentation and a substantive essay detailing the events surrounding those tests and their consequences on the inhabitants and their children.

Tuesday, 29 August 2017

When Protectors Become Destroyers. On the Ruining of Rongelap


The "Baker" Explosion, Bikini Atoll, Marshall Islands, 1946

The first thermonuclear explosion ever to occur on the earth, Ivy Mike, was detonated by the US Military on Eniwetok atoll in the Marshall Islands on 1st November 1952. The device itself weighed 60 tons and was housed in a six-storey structure containing the massive cooling apparatus needed to produce a temperature of minus 250 degrees Centigrade whereby the deuterium used to fuel the bomb could be liquefied.

Sixteen months later, the explosion of Castle Bravo on Bikini atoll marked the beginning of a second series of thermonuclear tests staged with the express purpose of creating a much smaller "deliverable" thermonuclear weapon in the megaton range.

On the Ruin of Rongelap offers an account of the events surrounding those tests, and describes the human and environmental consequences of such immense violations from the perspective of the inhabitants of the Marshall Islands.

This post offers both an audio presentation and a substantive essay detailing the events leading up to and following on from the nuclear weapon testing program conducted by the US in the Marshall Islands from June 1946 to August 1958. Special attention is given to the effects of Castle Bravo, the first of six thermonuclear tests that were conducted as part of Operation Castle between 1st March and 22nd April 1954.



The Ruining of Rongelap can be streamed using the media player above. A CD quality mp3 audio file is also available for download here.


Production Notes
Voices
J. Robert Oppenheimer: Archival recording
Holly Barker: Interview with Mick McCormick, February 2012 (Radio4All)
Tony de Brum: "Atomic Testing in the Marshall Islands" (Youtube)
Steve Osborn: Interview with Dori Smith, March 2004 (Radio4All)
Martini Gotje: Interview with Shirin Brown, July 2010 (Internet Archive)
Vincent Di Stefano: Commentary
Music
A. Coe, "Now I am Become Death" (Jamendo)
Alexander Sitnikov, "Downfall" (Internet Archive, MixGalaxy Collection)
Steve Kahn and Rob Mounsey, "Mahana"
Dead Can Dance, "Black Sun"
Doc and Lena Selyanina, "Steppe" (Internet Archive, Netlabels Collection)
Dead Can Dance, "As the Bell Rings the Maypole Spins"
Archie Roach, "There is a Garden"
Poetry
Steve Osborn: "The Day of the Two Sunrises"
Effects
Ryansnook: "Nuclear Explosion" (Freesound)
Production
Vincent Di Stefano


WHEN PROTECTORS BECOME DESTROYERS


While the colours of the rising sun were beginning to play over the skies of a still Pacific morning on the first day of March 1954, a second sun suddenly and furiously erupted from Namu Island in the Bikini atoll. It was the fruition of an unflinching determination by the nuclear physicist Edward Teller to gift the world with a weapon as powerful as the sun itself, a weapon based on the fusion of hydrogen atoms.

Within one second of that infernal detonation, an immense fireball 7 kilometres in diameter had formed. In less than a minute, the fireball had risen to a height of 14 kilometres. Eight minutes later, the fiery cloud had billowed out to a height of 40 kilometres and had spread out over a distance of 100 kilometres. Even so, it continued expanding outwards at a rate of more than six kilometres a minute. Beneath this unearthly fury, the Bikini atoll had been riven in two by a gaping crater two kilometres wide and nearly 200 feet deep. The clever men who had worked so hard to create such a weapon were well pleased. The 80,000 inhabitants of the Marshall Islands, in which the Bikini atoll was situated, were to suffer for generations to come. 

Rongelap atoll lies 170 kilometres to the east of Bikini. On the morning of March 1st 1954, the sky lit up as it had never lit up before. The atoll shuddered as from an earthquake and a horrific roar filled the air. Soon after, white flakes began to fall from the sky covering everything on the atoll with a layer of ash up to two centimetres thick. The sky had turned a ghastly grey, and families gathered together wondering what had happened. The children played with the strange “snow” fallen from the heavens. Some even tasted it to see what it might be.

Some Americans arrived by boat the next day. They were wearing full protective clothing and proceeded to take a number of measurements with their Geiger counters. According to the islanders, they came and went within 20 minutes and did not speak to any of them during that time. A number of US navy boats returned a day later - more than 48 hours after the initial blast - and began to evacuate the islanders.

Even before the Americans arrived, most of the inhabitants of Rongelap had developed symptoms. Many were vomiting and had developed diarrhoea. Within a few days, their skin started itching and burning and began to develop black-pigmented areas that became ulcerated and infected. Within a fortnight, most of their hair had fallen out, and blood tests showed significant abnormalities. This was but the beginning of a tribulation that continues to sear the lives of three generations of Marshall Islanders.

Further afield, the radioactive plume from the Castle Bravo atomic test had settled on numerous inhabited islands in the Marshall Islands archipelago, exposing many thousands of their inhabitants to varying levels of radioactivity.

Dark Seeds
 
Hiroshima was the first triumph for a group of new Prometheans intent on unleashing undreamed of destructive power in the service of the forces of war. The first atomic explosion in human history, not-so-cryptically named Trinity, had lit up the morning skies of the New Mexico desert in July 1945. That awesome event inspired J. Robert Oppenheimer, the director of the Manhattan Project, to ecstatically sing Vishnu's chant of power from the Bhagavad Gita: “I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.”

The Ruins of Hiroshima, August 1945
Within a year of the atomic slayings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the US military had claimed the Marshall Islands as their secret testing ground for nuclear weapon development. As a result of backroom negotiations, the United Nations formally handed over the Marshall Islands to the US as a Protectorate in July 1947. But in June 1946, a full year before the UN handover, the US Navy had already exploded a 23-kiloton atomic bomb above Bikini atoll. Three weeks later, they detonated a similar device 90 feet below the atoll. The Promethean Games had begun in earnest.

At the end of World War II, Stalin made sure that the Soviets would not be left behind in the race for nuclear supremacy. Armies of engineers and scientists were put to work and within four years had constructed a replica of the Fat Man bomb dropped on Nagasaki. The Soviet version was detonated in August 1949 and had an explosive power of 22 kilotons - the equivalent of 22,000 tons of TNT.

The Soviet detonation drove US military planners into a frenzy of renewed activity. They soon enlisted the support of Hungarian physicist, Edward Teller, who even while working on the Manhattan Project through the early 1940s, was dreaming of the feasibility of producing a fusion bomb based on deuterium and tritium, the isotopes of hydrogen. He understood that theoretically, there was no limit to the explosive power of such a weapon.

Edward Teller
After the Soviet atomic test in 1949, Teller set to work convincing his colleagues that the time had come to develop a more powerful weapon based on thermonuclear fusion. Both J. Robert Oppenheimer and Enrico Fermi had voiced their opposition to the construction of such a bomb. But the succesfull Soviet test changed everything. After intense lobbying at the highest levels by Teller and his military supporters, US president Harry Truman rubber-stamped the project in 1950.

Many of the nuclear physicists who had worked on the Manhattan Project were contacted. Soon after, a group of 20 scientists calling themselves “The Matterhorn Gang” were furiously working up mathematical formulae to track the progression of a man-made thermonuclear fusion reaction. The calculations proved so formidable, that IBM programmers in New York, the entire computation department of the University of Pennsylvania, and the operators of the large experimental computers owned by the US government were brought into the project. Most of the available computing power in the United States at the time was given over to the scientists at Los Alamos.

Work began soon after on the construction of an industrial-scale heavy water nuclear reactor at Savannah River in South Carolina. This facility was to produce the tritium that eventually enabled the production of a massive arsenal of thermonuclear weapons by the US over the next forty years.

Ivy Mike
In less than three years, the previously deserted Eniwetok atoll in the Marshall Islands had become home to a six-storey structure built especially to house the first hydrogen bomb, innocuously named Ivy Mike. It housed an immense cooling apparatus to maintain temperatures at minus 250° Celsius (minus 417° Fahrenheit) in order to liquefy the deuterium used to fuel the bomb. The whole assembly weighed over 60 tons. This structure was linked to a two-mile long tunnel filled with helium that enabled scientists to determine what occurred in those infinitesimally small moments during which the fusion reaction occurred.

Despite the fact that Teller had driven the process from the start, he chose not to join the audience of over 10,000 observers - mainly military - gathered around Bikini Atoll to witness the event. Instead, he chose to monitor the explosion on a seismograph in a Californian laboratory. He reasoned that if the detonation was successful, its shock waves would be easily detectable on the US West Coast, 8,000 km away. He had reasoned correctly. Long before word of the event could arrive through the usual channels, Teller had jubilantly reported the success of the operation to his colleagues at Los Alamos, and to his political sponsors in Washington.

The blast exploded with a force of 10.4 megatons - the equivalent of 10.4 million tons of TNT. It completely vaporised the structure in which the bomb was housed leaving a crater more than a mile wide and forming an immense mushroom cloud 160 kilometers wide and 40 kilometers in height. The blast destroyed all life on the immediately surrounding islands.

Well-satisfied with this first effort, Teller and his group immediately set to work on building a new bomb that would be “deliverable” by air to any nominated target. In the subsequent design, the liquid deuterium used in the first thermonuclear explosion was replaced by solid lithium deuteride. This could be detonated in such a way as to split the lithium atoms into heavy isotopes of hydrogen, thereby providing the necessary fuel for a thermonuclear fusion process. This new design formed the basis of the weapon that was exploded on Bikini atoll on March 1st 1954.

Darker Fruits
 
Despite their most careful calculations, Teller and his group seriously underestimated the explosive power of their second more portable version. They had predicted a yield of five megatons, but when their baby burst forth into the world, it thundered out at an astonishing 15 megatons – a thousand times more powerful than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima - and spewed millions of tons of radioactive debris throughout the region.

Stalin and his scientists had been watching these developments with great interest. On August 12th 1953, nine months after Ivy Mike, the Soviets themselves exploded their first thermonuclear bomb. It came in at 400 kilotons, nearly 30 times more powerful than the bomb used in Hiroshima. Unlike the first US hydrogen bomb however, the Soviets had from the outset produced a useable weapon that could easily be dropped from a plane. Two years later, the Soviets exploded a more respectable 1.6-megaton hydrogen bomb at Semipalatinsk in northeast Kazakhstan.

Tsar Bomba Detonation, 1961
The party became increasingly unruly. In 1961, the Soviets exploded Tsar Bomba, a massive bomb that clocked in at an astonishing 58 megatons. In real terms, that single bomb carried the explosive power of 58 million tons of TNT. At the time, Soviet president Nikita Khrushchev boasted that his scientists and engineers could easily have done better, but were restrained by the fact that the Soviet Union was not large enough to absorb a shock that would have shattered windows over 6,000 kilometers away.

Teller had been correct in his conjectures. There was in fact no limit to the explosive power that could be released in thermonuclear detonations.

Writing from Gethsemane Abbey in Kentucky a year after the Tsar Bomba explosion, Cistercian monk Thomas Merton reflected:
“Up to now (August 1962) there have been 106 nuclear tests since testing began again (almost a year). Thirty-one of these by the USSR, seventy-four by the USA, and one by Britain, in the USA (Nevada). The USA has made twenty-nine atmospheric tests, twenty-six in the South Pacific and three in Nevada. The USA has also made forty-four underground tests and one in the stratosphere. Total of all nuclear tests since the beginning: USA 229, USSR 86, UK 22, France 5.
Grand total: 342 tests, of which 282 were in the atmosphere.
Nice going, boys!” (Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander, 1966, p. 229)
Unfortunately, it was not such nice going for the people of the world, and more particularly, for the people of the Marshall Islands who had in the 12 years between 1946 and 1958, weathered the fallout of 67 atmospheric tests conducted by the US military. Within a decade of the Castle Bravo test, 90% of the children who were under 12 years of age on Rongelap Island at the time of the test had developed thyroid tumours. Marshall Islanders continue to have one of the world’s highest rates of thyroid abnormalities.

Many of the women from the island of Rongelap suffered stillbirths and miscarriages in the years after Castle Bravo. Beverley Keever, author of “News Zero: The New York Times and The Bomb” describes the experiences of Ainri, a young 18 year old woman who was pregnant with her first child at the time of the 1954 test:
“After the blast, Ainri gave birth to a son, Robert. His thyroid glands were so damaged that he became dwarfed. The glands were later removed, consigning him to a lifelong regimnen of medication. Ainri got pregnant again and gave birth, she said, to “a bunch of grapes that had to be pulled out of me.” Twice more Ainri got pregnant, she said, and gave birth to children who appeared to be normal but died several days later. Another son, Alex, survived, but again with damaged thyroid glands. Ainri herself has thyroid problems: two new growths recently (2004) appeared there.”
There is a more sinister dimension to the experience of the Marshall Islanders that has only recently come to light. In November 1953, four months before the Castle Bravo explosion, a research document was circulated. It was entitled "Project 4.1. Study of Response of Human Beings Exposed to Significant Beta and Gamma Radiation Due to Fallout from High Yield Weapons." The final version, re-titled "Operation Castle - Final Report Project 4.1. Study of Response of Human Beings Accidentally Exposed to Significant Fallout Radiation" was released a year later, in October 1954.

What had been observed after Hiroshima and Nagasaki was but a prelude. More data was needed and the Marshall Islands, being at a suitable remove from the US mainland, provided an opportunity for further “information” to be gathered. Those who oversaw the “management” of the Marshallese affected by the atomic tests must have had some awareness of the consequences of both their actions and their inactions.

Delay and Prevarication
 
It took a full three days after the Castle Bravo explosion for the irradiated inhabitants of Rongelap to be evacuated. They, their children, and their grand-children have been monitored on and off ever since. In 1957, they were returned to the island by US authorities. During their three-year absence, the US continued to carry out both atomic and thermonuclear weapon tests in the Marshall Islands. A further 11 thermonuclear tests had been conducted on Bikini atoll, while an additional eight atomic and three thermonuclear tests had been carried out on Eniwetok atoll.

No attempt was ever made to clear Rongelap Island of the immense amounts of fallout to which it had been exposed. The people of Rongelap were simply reassured that it was safe for them to return to their ancestral lands. They were, however, advised to avoid the more northern islands in their fishing expeditions. It was also suggested to them that they should eat mainly imported canned food.

In 1956, the year before their repatriation to Rongelap, Merril Eisenbud, a prominent member of the Atomic Energy Commission, had this to say about the “data” being gathered for Project 4.1:
“They had been living on that Island [Utrick Atoll - further downwind from Rongelap]: now that Island is safe to live on but is by far the most contaminated place in the world and it will be very interesting to go back and get good environmental data, how many per square mile; what isotopes are involved and a sample of food changes in many humans through their urines, so as to get a measure of the human uptake when people live in a contaminated environment.

Now, data of this type has never been available. While it is true that these people do not live the way westerners do, civilized people, it is nonetheless true that they are more like us than the mice.”
After the irradiated inhabitants had been returned to Rongelap, Dr Robert Conard, head of the Atomic Energy Commission medical surveillance team wrote in his 1957 annual report:
“The habitation of these people on Rongelap Island affords the opportunity for a most valuable ecological radiation study on human beings. . . .  The various radionuclides present on the island can be traced from the soil through the food chain and into the human being.”
During the 1970s, the inhabitants of Rongelap became increasingly distrustful of reassurances by US government representatives about the safety of their land. A number of children had been born with birth defects and others had been diagnosed with leukaemia and thyroid tumours. They began to seek independent advice.But it was difficult to get any information.

In 1983, the people of Rongelap were finally provided with copies of a translation of a US Department of Energy document prepared in 1978. The document stated conclusively that many parts of the island they had lived on since 1957 had a contamination rating of Level 3, the same as that deemed for both Bikini and Eniwetok atolls where all human habitation was forbidden. Their worst fears were realised. 
 
They immediately approached the US authorities and asked to be evacuated from the island. Their request was summarily refused and they were again reassured by the US Department of Energy that Rongelap was “safe” and that there was no cause for concern.

Sinking of the Rainbow Warrior. Auckland 1985
Understandably, they were desperately concerned about their own and their children’s futures. Again, they sought outside help. The Greenpeace yacht Rainbow Warrior travelled to Rongelap in May 1985 in order to relocate all of the inhabitants to Mejato Island, 180 kilometres away. This was to be the last action of the Rainbow Warrior.

Two months later, the Greenpeace yacht was resting at the bottom of Auckland Harbour after having been torn apart by two bombs planted by agents of the French government.

Cold Comfort
 
By 1988, the US government was forced to publically acknowledge the extent of the contamination of Rongelap declaring parts of the island group “forbidden territory” and in the words of Beverley Keever, “recommending that the remaining part would be safe only if inhabitants ate imported food for the next 30 to 50 years” (italics in original). During the 28 years from 1957 and 1985, the inhabitants of Rongelap had been continuously and knowingly exposed to dangerous levels of Caesium 137, Strontium 90 and a hellish cauldron of long-lived radioactive isotopes that had settled everywhere.

In the time since their relocation by the Rainbow Warrior, some reparations have been made through the US Nuclear Claims Tribunal. Over 1,800 Marshall Islanders received some financial compensation from the US government for the leukaemia, cancers of the oesophagus, stomach, small intestine, pancreas and bone, and severe growth retardation due to thyroid damage that they have suffered. But Keever notes: “46% of affected islanders died before they were fully paid for their injuries.”

Clean-up operations on Rongelap began in 1999, 45 years after the Castle Bravo test. Huge quantities of potassium were shipped to the island and added to the soil in order to decrease the uptake of radioactive caesium by plants. Despite the horrendous damage that has been done to their lands, the people of Rongelap are looking forward to soon returning to the islands that they have inhabited for over 4,000 years.

Lengthening Shadows
 
The story of Rongelap is not an isolated event in the sordid history of nuclear adventurism. Between 1945 and 1998, the US has conducted a total of 1,054 nuclear tests, over 330 of which were atmospheric. The Soviets have detonated over 700 nuclear weapons during the same period. Between 1966 and 1996, the French have carried out nearly 200 nuclear detonations - both atmospheric and underground - in Moruroa and Fangataufa atolls in Polynesia. China has conducted 45 tests, as has the UK, while India, Pakistan and North Korea have between them exploded 14 nuclear devices.

The world has been irremediably altered by the nuclear tests conducted during the latter half of the twentieth century, a time in which we have also come to see the creation of a massively expensive medical system to treat a world-wide epidemic of childhood cancers and so-called “diseases of civilisation.” What we are witnessing at present is and expression of the dehumanised dimension of scientific and technical endeavour. This is not a peculiar feature of twentieth century civilisation, but was early evident in the calls of Francis Bacon in the sixteenth century to extract “nature’s secrets” by whatever means we could muster. This attitude toward the natural world was furthered by Rene Descartes in his declaration that life was in essence a clockwork mechanism subject to the demands and manipulations of the res cogitans, the sphere of human thought and will.

The free expression of the seemingly limitless power of human rationality has come at the cost of distancing the human heart and human feeling from the determinations and practices of so-called value-free science. The present over-reach has brought in its train its own inherent breakdown. Our failure to reflect on the consequences of our projection of power in the material world is itself a reflection of our alienation from the sustaining forces that have enabled such projections to begin with. We are both in the world and of the world and as the air, earth, fire and water within which we live, move and have our being become progressively more deranged and more toxic, so too ourselves.

Within the sweep of history, the fate of the people of Rongelap is but another small stain in the wash of blood and grief that reaches far beyond the vast charnel grounds of time and empire.

The gift of human intelligence has yet to be informed by the greater gift of human wisdom. The great power of human will has yet to be infused by the greater power of divine love.

Vincent Di Stefano D.O., M.H.Sc.

Further Sources

1. Beverley Keever’s important paper “Suffering, Secrecy, Exile. Bravo 50 years later” published by Nuclear Age Peace Foundation describes many of the hidden dimensions of the plight of the Marshallese since the Castle Bravo detonation.

2. Glenn Alcalay’s brief overview “Atomic Atolls” published March 12, 2010 by CommonDreams.org offers the perspective of an American anthropologist who served as a Peace Corps volunteer on in the Marshall Islands during the 1970s.

3. For the more masochistically inclined, there is fascinating insight to be gained regarding the mindset of the scientists involved in the creation of both the atomic and thermonuclear weapons at Los Alamos in a series of video remembrances by Edward Teller recorded in June 1996.

This essay can be accessed in PDF form here.

Tuesday, 27 December 2016

The Nuclear Wasteland


"Why pay we such a price, and one we give
So clamoringly, for each racked empty day
That leads one more last human hope away,
As quiet fiends would lead past our crazed eyes
Our children to an unseen sacrifice?" 

If a person persists in acting in ways that are damaging to their health, a point will be reached beyond which their capacities will inevitably decline, if not collapse. In a similar way, if we continue to collectively live in ways that are fundamentally damaging to the earth and her creatures, thresholds will be crossed beyond which unpredictable and inevitably damaging consequences will result. This is effectively the story of industrial/technological civilisation as it has unfolded over the past century.

Runaway climate change is but the latest manifestation of a process that has been steadily eroding the delicately balanced equilibrium of our planet. The contemporary litany is evident to all who have sought to remain informed. Near-universal deforestation, widespread denaturation of agricultural lands, poisoning of inland lakes and waterways through industrial and mining activities, accelerating depletion of the ocean's fisheries and loss of coral reefs, and urban over-reach throughout the world all reflect aspects of a deepening systemic deterioration in the health of the earth's ecosystems. These processes have been inexorably gaining momentum since the time of the industrial and petrochemical revolutions during the nineteenth century.

Among the more disturbing influences to be unleashed over the past century have been the energies within the atomic nucleus. Immediately after the fateful and devastating eruption of nuclear fire over the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945, the major powers of the world sought to possess and to control the newly discovered energies within the atom. An early driver of this process was the desire for military supremacy. This desire was masked by the promotion of nuclear power as a source of energy for an increasingly energy-hungry world. The inherent dangers of nuclearisation were systematically downplayed by technocratic elites and by those attracted to the power and control made available by the nuclear demon.

The ruinous consequences of seventy years of nuclearisation are now patently manifest. The Hanford facility in the U.S., Sellafield in the U.K. and the Mayak Industrial Complex in the former Soviet Union have all served as "sacrifice zones" where plutonium pits were manufactured for deployment in nuclear warheads during the Cold War era. They are now vast nuclear wastelands with unthinkable quantities of radioactive wastes stored in ageing containers and leaking landfill sites. Less visibly, countless abandoned uranium mines throughout the world continue to release radioactivity into the air, soil, local waterways and groundwater. And most recently, the meltdowns at both Chernobyl and Fukushima have irrevocably poisoned vast tracts of land and the waters of the northern Pacific ocean, insidiously undermining the genetic future of plant, animal and human communities.

Despite the voicing of concerns regarding the "grave potential hazards" of nuclear power plants by over 2,000 members of the Union of Concerned Scientists over 40 years ago, neither the nuclear industry nor its supporters have offered a sober reflection on precisely what has been released into the world by the nuclear project. Rather, the present temper enthuses over "new builds" and spins tales of an energised nuclear renaissance driven by the promise of smaller, safer, smarter nuclear power plants to replace the fleet of ageing reactors around the world that have reached their use-by date. In the meantime, the earth heaves under 400,000 tones of spent nuclear fuel produced by these monsters with an additional 12,000 tons added to the tally with each passing year. These deadly fruits of a reckless civilisation will remain dangerous to all life over geological time scales.

The problem of nuclear waste has yet to be dealt with. There have been numerous plans made, numerous barrel-loads of dangerous waste dumped into rivers, water-ways and oceans, numerous false starts that went nowhere, and numerous failed projects. As cooling ponds around the world near their capacity, spent nuclear fuel rods have become the singular intractable problem for those who operate nuclear power plants. They generate high temperatures that must be controlled for decades. And they hold a mix of highly radioactive fission products that must be kept isolated from the environment for hundreds of thousands of years.

Early Stirrings

Although the Manhattan Project was bankrolled by the U.S. government, its conceptual and intellectual foundations were firmly rooted in the work of European physicists. Much of the early research investigating the feasibility of producing an atomic weapon was undertaken by what became known as the Maud Committee in the U.K. in 1940 and 1941. English physicists joined the Manhattan Project in 1943 and proved to be instrumental in the design and construction of the first atom bombs. After Little Boy and Fat Man had done their appalling work on the people of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the British government lost no time in securing similar prizes. The production of weapons-grade plutonium was deemed absolutely necessary if Britain was to retain a prominent place in the emerging Promethean circus.

A small prototype nuclear reactor was designed, constructed and successfully fired up by British scientists and engineers at Harwell in August 1947. A month later, the British government had acquired the Sellafield Royal Ordnance Factory in Cumbria, changed its name to Windscale, and started building two large nuclear reactors and a reprocessing facility for plutonium extraction. Both reactors were fully operational by 1951. Their sole purpose was to produce plutonium for the creation of atomic bombs. The first plutonium was separated from spent fuel in July 1952. Within three months, the U.K. had detonated its first nuclear bomb. It shook the Montebello Islands off Western Australia to their foundations.

A year later, the U.K. government commissioned the construction of two massive 4-reactor complexes of British design for the production of both plutonium for the military and electricity for the national grid. The first reactor complex, Calder Hall, was to be situated adjacent to the Windscale facility on the Calder River. The second group of reactors was to be sited at Chapelcross in Scotland. Australian physicist and historian of science Jim Falk has referred to Calder Hall in the following terms: "In 1956 the first 'commercial' nuclear reactor began operation in the U.K. It was a plutonium producer for the nuclear weapons program, to which had been added a small generator."

Windscale/Calder Hall, 1957
The first of the Calder Hall reactors was triumphantly launched by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on October 17th 1956. It was the first industrial-scale nuclear reactor to be built anywhere in the world. The dual purpose Calder Hall reactors ushered in what would become a fleet of 26 Magnox nuclear reactors constructed in the U.K. between 1956 and 1971. The Magnox reactors were so-named because the cladding for the fuel rods was made of magnesium-aluminium alloy. A peculiarity of this design was that spent fuel rods were prone to early deterioration and therefore could only be stored for a limited time. They were designed for rapid reprocessing in order to extract plutonium.

The reprocessing of spent nuclear fuel took place at Windscale just across the river. These activities have gifted the U.K. with a nightmarish stockpile of nuclear waste - including over 100 tonnes of plutonium - that nobody knows what to do with.

The Growing Burden

By the mid-1970s, it had become apparent to those within the U.K. nuclear establishment that it was faced with a major problem. A number of the 26 Magnox reactors were by that time approaching their use-by date and a second generation of more powerful Advanced Gas-cooled Reactors (AGRs) were about to be fired up. Immense amounts of radioactive waste from Windscale had already been dumped into the Irish Sea, the English Channel, and into deep channels in the North Atlantic ocean. By 1982, nuclear activities in the U.K. had contributed 80% of the load of 140,000 tons of nuclear waste sitting on the North Atlantic ocean floor in flimsy metal drums. The high level wastes from nuclear reactors and the reprocessing of spent fuel were not, however, to be so easily disposed of.

Spent fuel rods from Magnox reactors were reprocessed at Windscale in order to recover plutonium and uranium for recycling. This involved dissolving the fuel rods in nitric acid and subsequently separating out the various fission products using a range of solvents. The reprocessing of spent fuel created vast quantities of high-level fission products in liquid form. Much of this liquid waste was stored in stainless steel tanks but from the 1960s, various methods of fusing the waste into glass blocks were tested in order to convert the liquid into a more stable form that could later be stored in geological repositories that were yet to be built.

In 1976, the United Kingdom Atomic Energy Authority (UKAEA) started to search out possible sites in the U.K. for the burial of wastes from British reactors. The Scottish highlands were early identified as relatively stable geological areas where high level nuclear waste could be stored underground. From an initial list of 127 possible sites, 8 were selected for test drilling and further investigation. The process did not, however, get very far once word began to circulate and public opposition gathered momentum.  Other sites were nominated in Somerset, Leicestershire, North Wales and Caithness in Scotland soon after, but they too suffered a similar fate. Local protests were so strong that these did not even get past the stage of test drilling.

Greenpeace action, North Atlantic, June 1982
Realising the extent of public opposition, the government changed direction and in 1981, refocussed its attention on the growing reserves of low and intermediate level wastes hoping that their disposal would attract less opposition. Again, they were mistaken. Up until that time, such wastes were often secretly dumped into the sea in metal drums. Once this became known, Greenpeace and other activist groups sprung into action. They ignited widespread outrage by alerting the public to the routine practise of ocean dumping of nuclear wastes. The British government could no longer rely on such reckless ways and began to look for other methods of disposal. Its attempts to create sites for the underground burial of low level wastes over the following 15 years proved fruitless, again because of vocal opposition from local communities.

By the late 1990s, Sellafield, the former Windscale site, had become the de facto storage site for much of the U.K.s nuclear wastes. In addition, vast tonnages of steadily-accumulating spent fuel languished in cooling ponds situated alongside the nuclear reactors of Great Britain.

Mountains of Waste

The situation was similarly fraught on the other side of the Atlantic. As early as the mid-1950s, scientists and engineers in the U.S. had understood that the promotion of civil nuclear reactors for electricity production as part of the grievously misnamed "Atoms for Peace" program would compound the already thorny issue of nuclear waste management. Despite their call for the creation of suitable geological repositories in anticipation of the flood of high level wastes that would issue from a civil nuclear energy program, very little was actually done.

Spent fuel storage pond (USA)
It took another 40 years before work commenced on the construction of a deep geological repository at Yucca Mountain in Nevada in 1994. Fifteen years and fifteen billion dollars later, the Obama Administration declared the project unworkable due to unresolved safety issues. The Yucca Mountain project was formally abandoned in 2009 without taking in a single gram of nuclear waste. Soon after, nuclear power facilities in 38 states commenced legal proceedings against the US government claiming tens of billions of dollars in damages for failing to deliver. In the meantime, over 2,000 tonnes of incandescent spent fuel rods continue to be added to the already overloaded cooling ponds of nuclear reactors throughout the U.S. with each passing year

The situation in Canada which was also involved in the nuclear project from its inception in the 1940s is equally chaotic. As in the U.K., steps were taken by the Canadian government to create geological repositories for the long-term storage of its growing stores of nuclear waste during the late 1970s. And as in the U.K., the plans came to naught due to widespread popular opposition.

Nearly four decades later, and after numerous studies and investigations by the Canadian government and the nuclear industry, the situation remains precarious and uncertain. Work has yet to actually begin on the construction of a deep geological repository for Canada's nuclear wastes, but the government is confident that a suitable site will be located and that a storage facility will be built and made ready to receive its deadly accumulations by 2035.

It can therefore come as no surprise that the entrepreneurial possibilities for creating a lucrative international repository for spent nuclear fuel began to attract the attention of some big players once the enormity of the problem was realised.

The Nuclear Cowboys

The Australian political scene was unexpectedly shaken in the late 1990s when it was revealed that a small but highly organised and well-connected group had been secretly developing a finely orchestrated plan to import 75,000 tons of spent fuel together with an unspecified quantity of high and intermediate level nuclear wastes into the central Australian desert. The project was conceived by Pangea Resources International (PRI) and it detailed the mobilisation, conditioning and packaging of nuclear wastes in their nations of origin, the creation of a fleet of special-purpose ships for the transoceanic transport of these wastes to a yet-to-be-built sea terminal, the construction of a dedicated rail transport system from the port to an isolated repository in Western Australia where the wastes would be temporarily stored above ground, and the construction of a deep geological repository 500-1,000 metres below the surface where the stored wastes would eventually be deposited.

PRI was well connected and well cashed-up from the outset. Anticipating a possible solution to its own problems, British Nuclear Fuels Limited (BNFL), wholly owned by the U.K. government, bankrolled Pangea to the tune of 35 million dollars by purchasing an 80% share in the company. The remaining holdings of 20% were shared by NAGRA, a consortium owned by the operators of Switzerland's five nuclear reactors at the time, and EHL, a company wholly owned by Golder Associates, a Canadian waste-management corporation.

This ambitious project came unstuck in December 1998 when the British chapter of Friends of the Earth contacted its sister organisation in Australia and passed on a leaked promotional video produced in the U.K. by Pangea. It soon became evident that there was little appetite for the project among Australian politicians, among the general public, and especially among the indigenous groups for whom central Australia was a homeland and not an empty wasteland into which the world's nuclear wastes could be dumped.

By August 1999, the Australian Senate had overwhelmingly rejected Pangea's plan. The following month, the West Australian government passed a bipartisan motion expressing its complete opposition to the construction of a deep geological repository for nuclear wastes anywhere in Western Australia.

Nuclear Wastes, Sellafield U.K.
The driving force behind Pangea was David Pentz, a London-born geotechnical engineer who in 1966 began his career with Rio Tinto, one of the world's largest mining corporations. He joined the Canadian mining-engineering and waste management company Golder Associates in 1970, eventually rising to the position of President and Chairman. During the 1980s, Pentz participated in high level discussions in the U.S. regarding the geological isolation and disposal of nuclear wastes. And during the 1990s as a director of Golder Associates U.K., Pentz was privy to the fact that the British government had reached a virtual impasse in the matter of disposing of its own burgeoning stores of spent fuel and high-level nuclear wastes. He clearly understood the magnitude of what was becoming a major global problem.

After several years of discussion and planning, David Pentz joined forces with James Voss, his long-time colleague and brother-in-arms at Golder Associates. Together, they established Pangea Resources International in 1997. Its stated goal was to promote and eventually create an international geological repository for the disposal of a large part of the world's radioactive wastes.

Pentz offered the following account at a nuclear waste management conference in the U.S. in March 1999:
Over the period of 1992-1995 . . . . my colleagues and I began to define the objectives for forming an international disposal corporation. This has as its centrepiece a geological repository located in very simple geology and topography with a robust arid climate whose safety could be predicted with relative ease. . . .

This enabled us to identify extensive adjacent sedimentary basins extending from central Western Australia into northern Southern Australia that we believe are among the world's best regions for deep disposal of long-lived radionuclides.
Not everybody shared Pentz and Voss's enthusiasm or certitude that wastes stored in the Australian desert would be perennially safe and immured from endangering future generations. Among the first to offer a deeply informed critique of the Pangea project was Professor John Veevers from the Department of Earth and Planetary Sciences at Macquarie University and a fellow of the Australian Academy of Science. After pointedly noting the strong financial involvement of the British Government in the project, Veevers went on to refute Pentz's claims that the safety of the proposed Australian repository "could be predicted with relative ease." In addition, he expressed deep concern at the inherent dangers involved in transporting such large quantities of high level nuclear waste half-way around the world. Citing a 1997 geological study, John Veevers questioned the easy assumption of seismic stability implicit in the Pangea project.
. . . although they may be currently aseismic, faults in stable continental regions [as the Great Victoria Desert] that are favourably oriented for movement in the current stress field could produce damaging earthquakes, often in unexpected places.
Veevers also pointed out that the notion of perceiving the Australian desert as an unchangeable "robust arid climate" was both foolish and presumptuous and suggested that a number of dry lakes in the Great Victoria Desert of central Australia may have been full to overflowing with water as recently as 6,000 years ago.

John Veevers' concerns regarding seismic stability were later echoed by Professor Mike Sandiford from the School of Earth Sciences at Melbourne University, a fellow member of the Australian Academy of Sciences:
Australia is not the most stable of continental regions, although the levels of earthquake risk are low by global standards. To the extent that past earthquake activity provides a guide to the future tectonic activity, Australia would not appear to provide the most tectonically stable environment for long-term waste facilities.
In the meantime, we have collectively come to understand that the reality of climate change, of melting polar ice caps, and of the high probability that water tables throughout the world will rise in the future all add further dimensions of uncertainty to a picture that demands absolute environmental and geological stability for the hundreds of thousands of years that long-lived radionuclides need to be kept isolated from all ecosystems due to their extreme danger to all of life.

Even after it had become obvious that both political and popular opposition to Pangea's plans were near-insuperable, David Pentz confidently murmured in a Four Corners documentary produced by the Australian Broadcasting Commission at the time, "Ideas of this size don't go away." Pangea Resources Australia came and went in four years, having been set up in January 1998 and then formally dissolved in January 2002. But the seeds had been firmly planted.

It was to take another 15 years before Pentz's prediction came to fruition, but in its reincarnated form, the project was to be driven by the South Australian government and a small cohort of nuclear cowboys. 

Pangea Redux: The South Australia Nuclear Fuel Cycle Royal Commission

Regardless of whether one's nation is a member of the British Commonwealth or not, the notion of a Royal Commission evokes the expectation of a process that is inherently ethical, that seeks above all else to uncover the truthful dimensions of whatever subject-area is under investigation, and that is objective, fundamentally unbiased, and deeply informed. The South Australian public, together with many who have closely followed the progression of the recent South Australia Nuclear Fuel Cycle Royal Commission (SANFCRC), have come to realise that even as hallowed an institution as a Royal Commission remains vulnerable to manipulation by special interest groups operating from within.

In March 2015, South Australian Premier Jay Weatherill announced the establishment of a state-based Royal Commission to independently and comprehensively investigate the possibilities for greater participation of South Australia in a number of aspects of the nuclear fuel cycle. Prominent among those possibilities was the establishment of an international facility for the storage and disposal of high-level nuclear waste as a commercial venture.

A former Governor of South Australia, Rear Admiral Kevin Scarce, was appointed as its head. Four months before the Commission was constituted, Kevin Scarce had acknowledged publicly that he was "not just an advocate for the nuclear industry." Yet soon after being appointed, he contradicted himself by stating: "I have not been an advocate and never have been an advocate of the nuclear industry." Soon after, a five-member Expert Advisory Committee was established. Three of those members were known proponents of the nuclear industry, with only one member, Professor Ian Lowe, former head of the School of Science at Griffith University, holding an explicitly anti-nuclear position.

Predictably, when the Royal Commission Report was released 12 months later, its primary recommendation was that South Australia be actively promoted as the ideal destination for over one third of the world's accumulated stores of high-level nuclear waste in the form of spent fuel rods, and that an additional 400,000 cubic metres of intermediate-level nuclear wastes be imported as part of an ambitious 120-year-long business plan that would relieve the South Australian government of its financial woes ever after.

Ever-mindful of the sorry fate of Pangea's attempt in the 1990s, an elaborate "public education" campaign was immediately launched in order to soft-sell the plan. In additional, a "Citizens Jury" was commissioned in the hope that some public consensus in favour of the project could be manufactured by suitably-delivered "information sessions".

The Citizens Jury process was as transparently biased and manipulated as the Royal Commission itself. Mercifully, this was not lost on the participants who voted overwhelmingly that the plan to create a vast nuclear burial-ground in South Australia not go ahead. Predictably, Premier Jay Weatherill spat the dummy and in the face of the failure of the Citizens Jury ruse, declared that what was now needed was a nuclear referendum to give the people another opportunity to make the "right" decision.

In the meantime, the whole crooked underbelly of the project was exposed when it was discovered that the economic edifice provided by Jacobs MCM on which the entire project depended was not only fundamentally flawed, but had been quietly driven behind the scenes by the old Pangea crew. The details are all on the record and are a further testimony - if one is needed - of the demonic tenacity of the supporters of the nuclear industry to ensure that their unspeakably violent and inhumanly toxic method of boiling water in nuclear reactors to generate electricity is here to stay, and to hell with the possibilities held in renewable sources of energy and the safety of future generations.

The whole industry is implicate. There are no good guys or bad guys among them. The self-interest of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) and its collusion with the World Health Organisation in the matter of suppressing public knowledge of the true consequences of such catastrophic events as Chernobyl and Fukushima have been extensively documented. And yet, the lies continue to circulate and the whitewashed proclamations of the IAEA and other nuclear agencies are given sacrosanct immunity.

The soporific ennui that appears to have overwhelmed many within the Western world has been quintessentially evidenced in the election of an ignorant, arrogant and dangerous bigot to the position of Commander-in-Chief of the most powerful economic and military machine that has ever taken form on the earth. Yet gentler currents continue to circulate and gather, often invisibly, awaiting their own day. This is evident in the small but great triumph of native American peoples in the matter of the South Dakota pipeline, and in the rejection by the people of South Australia of attempts by nuclear technocrats to put the hellish wastes of a spent civilisation out of sight and out of mind in the Australian desert so as to allow an ill-fated nuclear "renaissance" to proceed unhindered.



Vincent Di Stefano M.H.Sc., D.O., N.D.
Inverloch, December 2016

A pdf copy of this essay can be downloaded here


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