‘My people have carried nuclear trauma for generations’

Nuclear family trauma

What Yami Lester and his companions did not know was that some 150 kilometres away, Britain had conducted its first nuclear test on land under the code name Totem 1. The choice for a test site fell on Emu Field, a so-called clay pan, a vast, flat area with a bone-hard layer of clay as subsoil.

A second blast, Totem 2, followed on 27 October. Neither test went as planned; the radioactive fallout (precipitation) extended much further than anticipated. Later, the British nuclear weapons programme moved to Maralinga, where above-ground tests were carried out until 1963.

‘To this day, we collectively suffer the consequences of the British nuclear tests at Emu Field.’

For the Lester family, that day began a trauma that would never heal. ‘My grandmother had to bury a lot of elderly people from the community in the weeks following Totem 1 and 2. Many others suffered breathing, eye and skin problems due to radioactive dust.’

So did her father Yami. ‘Some years later, he must have been about 16 at the time, he went completely blind. His world went completely dark. He never saw me or his grandchildren. Many family members and people in our community later suffered from autoimmune diseases. To this day, we collectively suffer the consequences of what took place at Emu Field in October 1953.’

Emu Field, and later Maralinga, were chosen as test sites because of their geological features but also because of their remote location. The fact that this was land inhabited by Aboriginal communities was no one’s concern at the time.

‘The Australian government had sent out an officer to warn ranchers in the wider area, although the details were kept secret. This man spoke none of our languages, so communication with our communities was non-existent. Never were they given any information, let alone permission for testing on the land that traditionally belonged to them.’

Colonialism and nuclear weapons

Not long ago, nuclear weapons seemed almost an anachronism, a relic of the Cold War. But increased geopolitical tensions have put an end to the dream of nuclear disarmament.

Nuclear powers worldwide are investing heavily in the readiness or even expansion of their arsenals. Last year, nuclear powers collectively spent some €84 billion on their arsenals, according to a calculation by the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN). A record amount, and at the same time an indication of a trend that is likely to continue in the coming years.

The Russian invasion of Ukraine makes the nuclear threat a lot more tangible. Moscow has already threatened to deploy nuclear weapons several times and revised its nuclear doctrine, which defines when the nuclear option is deemed legitimate. How seriously we should take such statements is not clear, but such rhetoric alone offers reasons for concern.

‘Even without wars, nuclear weapons create victims, although these victims too often remain out of sight.’

The destructive power of nuclear weapons is hard to imagine. But the destructive impact of military use of nuclear energy reaches much further, says Naomi Zoka, security and disarmament officer at Pax Christi Flanders, specialising in nuclear disarmament and autonomous weapons.

‘People still grasp the consequences of the effective deployment of nuclear weapons, but the violence in the nuclear chain is much less visible. Across the lifeline of nuclear weapons, these weapons cause misery and devastation: in mining, in nuclear testing and in radioactive waste disposal.’

‘This hidden impact of nuclear weapons falls almost exclusively on the shoulders of indigenous, colonised or marginalised communities. Think, for example, of conflicts over uranium mining and the storage of military radioactive waste on indigenous land in Australia. Or French testing in Algeria and the Pacific. Even without wars, nuclear weapons create casualties, though too often these remain out of the picture.’

‘The North used the South as a nuclear laboratory and actually still does’, Zoka continues. ‘Colonial power relations thus serve the military nuclear ambitions of superpowers and other states that aspire to nuclear weapons. The first victims of uranium mining, nuclear testing or nuclear waste disposal are marginalised communities, non-white groups or populations over which a nuclear state exercises some power. Certainly in testing these weapons, colonial supremacy plays very strongly.’

Mutilated landscapes

On 16 July 1945, a mushroom cloud rose some 12 kilometres into the sky in the middle of the desert of the US state of New Mexico. The first ever atomic explosion was a fact. The Manhattan Project, the United States' nuclear weapons programme, proved a success. Not much later, the US would also effectively use the bombs to bring Japan to its knees and end World War II.

‘Governments legitimize their choices for certain sites with the argument that no one lives there. In reality, no one lives there who is considered important.’

Other countries followed, and today the world has nine states in possession of nuclear weapons. This nuclear arms race was accompanied by a whole series of tests. The total number of atomic tests varies depending on its exact definition, but it involves more than 2,000 explosions, above ground on land and at sea and underground.

Because of the particularly destructive impact of above-ground tests, governments chose to conduct nuclear tests in remote, sparsely populated areas. These choices reflected often (former) colonial relations. Britain tested nuclear weapons in the former colony of Australia on indigenous land, France chose Reggane and In Ekker, two sites in the Algerian Sahara, and test sites on Pacific islands.

Aspiring nuclear powers without colonies opted for regions far from centres of power. US test sites in New Mexico and Nevada were close to indigenous and Spanish-speaking communities.

The same internal colonialism played out in the Soviet Union, which tested atomic weapons in Semipalatinsk, Kazakhstan, with as little consideration for local communities as the Western powers. Pakistan conducted tests in the Ras Koh mountains in Balochistan, a region at odds with the central government.

‘Governments legitimise their choices for certain sites with the argument that nobody lives there’, Zoka said. ‘In reality, nobody lives there that is considered important. These are places that people feel are allowed to damage. The welfare and interests of people who live there, indigenous or marginalised populations, do not count.’

Radioactive legacy

In the decades following the development of the first nuclear weapons, there was a growing realisation that above-ground testing was too destructive to continue. Although France and China would continue this practice for many years, a treaty to end above-ground nuclear testing came in 1963. But communities near former test sites still feel the legacy of such tests.

‘The effects of the tests at Emu Field and later at Maralinga are still felt today, both in my family and in our community’, Karina Lester confirmed. ‘Not for nothing is Maralinga called "Mamu Pulka", The Big Bad. The incidence of lymphoma and autoimmune diseases, for example, is alarmingly high. Aboriginal communities already face all sorts of public health problems due to centuries of deprivation anyway, and the impact of these nuclear tests adds to that.’

There is also a colonial aspect to the mining of uranium ore, the raw material needed to produce nuclear weapons, as again it is mainly colonised or marginalised communities that bear the burden. Both in the US, Canada and Australia, examples abound of uranium mines that have led to widespread health problems in neighbouring communities during and after their operations.

In Australia, it is aboriginal communities that are leading the resistance to uranium mining, as most recently against the planned Yeelirrle mine, says Lester. ‘It’s a battle that has to be fought over and over again. There are laws like Native Title, which recognise the land rights of our communities. But governments can invoke a higher interest to approve mining projects anyway. Moreover, they put pressure on indigenous communities, who are often not well informed. Once again, this country is failing to take our interests into account, as it did in 1953 with the test at Emu Field.’

Congolese uranium in first nuclear weapons

Belgium’s colonial history also has a nuclear chapter. The bulk of the uranium used in the Manhattan Project, the development of the very first nuclear weapons, came from Shinkolobwe. This mine in the Congolese province of Katanga had been mining radium and uranium since the 1920s. The ore from the mine was particularly rich in uranium. Without the Congolese uranium, it might not even have been possible to build the first atomic bombs, Zoka suspects.

‘Even after World War II, Shinkolobwe remained essential for the development of nuclear weapons. Because of the mine’s military importance, strict security measures applied. The nearby town was evacuated, and the name of the site was literally erased from the map.’

Officially, Shinkolobwe closed in 2004 and the mine galleries were bricked up. ‘However, artisanal mining still takes place, mainly to extract cobalt’, Zoka says. ‘As a result, the soil gets stirred up again and harmful radioactive mining waste resurfaces.’

‘Shinkolobwe and its surroundings are monitored, but every now and then rumours surface that people are gaining access to the mine, or about smuggled uranium. China is reportedly urging the Congolese authorities to reopen Shinkolobwe to bring uranium for civilian use to the surface, but there is much uncertainty about this.’

Cultural loss

Nuclear testing and uranium mining have also maimed and contaminated large tracts of indigenous land. The effects on aboriginal communities are still being felt today, says Lester. ‘From a colonial perspective, land is nothing more than something that can be taken possession of and used at will.’

‘The nuclear tests at Emu Field and Maralinga have robbed my people of the cultural connection to our land, and we will never get that back.’

‘But our way of life is deeply intertwined with the land. It is about much more than food or a place to live. For us, land is a lifeline, a landscape of stories, knowledge and traditions.’

‘The nuclear tests in Emu Field and Maralinga robbed my people of this cultural connection to our land, and we won’t get it back. That loss means additional trauma on top of the direct impact of the tests on our physical and mental health.’

Nuclear dustbin

Karina Lester inherited from her father a deep anti-nuclear commitment. Apart from Australia itself, she is also active with ICAN, the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons. That is an international coalition striving for a world free of nuclear weapons that won the Nobel Peace Prize in 2017. An important recognition, but since then the nuclear threat has only increased.

This worries Lester immensely. ‘I don’t have a precise analysis of global geopolitical tensions, but there is a fear that Australia is in danger of being sucked into a global conflict. Australia signed a security treaty with the United States and the United Kingdom in 2021 called AUKUS. This treaty is intended to counter China’s growing influence in the Pacific and make Australia an engaged party in the region’s geopolitical power time.’

The AUKUS agreement contains a significant nuclear component. It envisages a rotation of US and UK nuclear submarines in Australian waters, and Australia’s commitment to acquire nuclear submarines of its own.