How Nuclear Militarism has Greatly Harmed Ethnic and Indigenous Communities
While many view the creation of the atomic bomb and weaponry by the United States, France, Great Britain, and others as a touchstone of scientific innovation and security, for the victims of nuclear weapons testing and mining operations, it is a source of generational trauma. Ethnic and Indigenous people impacted by nuclear militarism highlight a consistent lack of informed consent and protection throughout these operations despite nuclear weapons programs spanning across continents.
Between 1952 and 1957, Great Britain conducted 12 nuclear test explosions at Maralinga in southwest Australia. In preparation for the tests, the Australian government forcibly relocated many Anangu Aboriginal families, pulling them from their ancestral homes and their many traditions that are bound to the land. During the nuclear test explosions, approximately 1,200 Aboriginal individuals were exposed to radiation, causing skin rashes, lung diseases, cancers, and the early deaths of many. Some were blinded by the brightness of the explosions.
Aboriginal individuals who lived near the test site recalled a “black mist” of radioactive dust that blanketed their communities after each explosion. Even in the modern day, radioactive particles containing uranium and plutonium still contaminate the area around Maralinga. A study published in May 2021 in Scientific Reports found that the contaminants are likely being spread through the area’s dust and water and may be currently ingested by local residents. There is already evidence that local Maralinga wildlife is consuming plutonium from the test site. Although these tests happened decades ago, the authors also found that for the last 30 years, soil-to-animal transfer rates have remained consistent.
Meanwhile, the United States conducted many of its nuclear tests from the 1940s to the 1960s in the Marshall Islands including the largest nuclear test explosion ever recorded, known as Castle Bravo. After Castle Bravo, Marshallese residents of the Rongelap, Ailinginae, and Utrik atolls were forcibly relocated due to dangerous levels of radiation across the areas. As a result of Castle Bravo alone, it is estimated that 665 Marshallese were overexposed to radiation. While all U.S. citizens in the area were evacuated in just under a day and a half, evacuations for Marshallese residents did not even start until 51 hours after detonation.
The Marshallese were not forewarned ahead of the Castle Bravo test, nor were they informed about the accidental fallout that spread across the atolls afterward. The U.S. government did not seek consent from the Marshallese ahead of conducting these nuclear tests, as at the time the U.S. government controlled the region under a U.N. strategic trusteeship known as the Trust Territory of the Pacific Islands (TTPI). However, during the 1940s and 1950s when the Marshallese attempted to sue the United States in U.S. federal courts, the United States government won every case with the claim that the TTPI was a foreign entity, not a U.S. territory, and thus not under U.S. jurisdiction. As a result, the TTPI placed the Marshallese under the control of the United States government without any of the legal protections U.S. citizens are offered, rendering the Marshallese unable to prevent the immense amount of radiation and contaminants U.S. nuclear militarism spread across their lands. As Dr. Barbara Johnston from the Center of Political Ecology explains, “The total explosive yield of nuclear militarism in the Marshall Islands was 93 times that of all U.S. atmospheric tests in Nevada; the equivalent of more than 7,000 Hiroshima bombs.”
Some victims of nuclear militarism’s impacts have received varied forms of compensation and remediation, but for many, this is still largely inaccessible. In October 1990, the U.S. Congress passed the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA), which intended to offer compensation to those who developed diseases as a result of radiation exposure in the following occupations: uranium miners, uranium millers, ore transporters, and onsite nuclear-test participants. Despite amendments in 2000 to broaden the act’s scope, a large portion of those affected by the U.S. nuclear testing program are still not eligible for compensation to this day, including those who lived in the vicinity of the 1945 Trinity Test in New Mexico. The Trinity Test, known as the world’s first atomic bomb explosion, created a fallout of approximately 100 miles long and 30 miles wide. However, Manhattan Project leaders consciously decided not to warn or evacuate nearby civilians ahead of time to maintain the project’s secrecy. As a result, generations of communities — those who were even born long after the Trinity Test — have been inundated with cancers and other fatal diseases.
Between 1960 and 1966, France carried out 17 nuclear tests in the Algerian Sahara region. The northern African state was under France’s colonial control for part of that time, but although Algeria gained independence from France in 1962, the French government was still permitted to conduct nuclear tests in the region. In 2012, it was estimated that approximately 30,000 Algerians were affected by the radioactive cloud from a 1962 test. However, as of July 2021, only approximately fifty Algerians filed a claim for compensation under France’s 2010 radiation exposure compensation law, and only one of those individuals was successful. This stands as a perfect example of how compensation for radiation-related injuries may be an option on paper, but in practice, it is incredibly inaccessible to those who need it most.
The French argue that the compensation claims from Algerians are often “incomplete or in a shoddy state,” and blame the Algerian government for not providing the geographical, medical, or historical evidence the claims require. However, it is worth noting that the Algerian Sahara region has double the average national poverty rate in a country already struggling with socioeconomic challenges. One 2006 study found that French colonization directly increased disparities between the literacy rates of Muslim and non-Muslims living in Algeria until 1998. It is worth noting that as of 2021, 97% of Algerians are Muslim. When considering these statistics in the context of the strenuous efforts post-colonial governments must endure to persist, one might consider that the “shoddy” claims are yet another indication of France’s grievous impact on Algeria.
The overlap between these cases is tremendous. Ethnic and Indigenous communities have repeatedly endured immense health impacts, forcible relocation, lack of informed consent and compensation as a result of nuclear militarism. Since the U.S. and European nuclear states are not signatories to the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW), they bear no legal obligation to remediate the great societal traumas their nuclear weapons programs have caused. The TPNW, which came into force last January, is the first legally binding international agreement to ban the use and possession of nuclear weapons. Additionally, the TPNW also marks the first international law advocating for remediation and support for the victims of nuclear weapons testing. However, this does not mean there lacks a moral obligation.
The renewed conversation surrounding victim support that the TPNW has created marks an exciting opportunity to entice the U.S. and European nuclear states to rejuvenate remediation efforts. Perhaps they can use the parallels between their nuclear programs to collaborate on victim remediation and emphasize a commitment to upholding universal human rights in defense operations.
Photo Credit: https://www.sbs.com.au/nitv/the-point-with-stan-grant/article/2016/09/27/maralinga-nuclear-tests-60-years-what-do-we-know-now
