Chernobyl on My Mind

Radiation warning symbol

While Japan is struggling to avoid the release of large doses of radioactive material from the failing reactors of the Fukushima Daiichi power plant after the earthquake and tsunami, Chernobyl has taken a step back into the limelight. It is a typical journalistic ritual to revisit disasters after any round number of years. Think one hundred years after New York City’s Triangle Shirtwaist Factory fire (coming soon), sixty-five years after WWII, or ten years after 9/11. Currently, while witnessing Japan’s nuclear malfunctions, we are remembering the world’s worst nuclear disaster 25 years ago. The question is what the repeated and repackaged story of Chernobyl adds to our dealings with current and future failures at nuclear power plants.

Today, a trip to Ukrainian Ground Zero is accessible to all. Journalists can simply accompany tourists on special Chernobyl tours to venture into the thirty kilometer exclusion zone (19 miles) around the former nuclear plant. The tour operators’ program describes a trip to the plant, a stop at a cooling channel to feed the fish (!), and after some sightseeing in the spooky town of Pripyat, a return to Chernobyl itself for lunch. Visitors will return home with the images of the deserted apartment buildings, the unused Ferris wheel at the moss overgrown fairground, and of course photos of the sarcophagus and the remains of the reactor complex itself. So, what have we learned?

The eerie devastation that humans caused in and around Chernobyl is hard to describe. But it is much easier to retell the unearthly story than to analyze and act upon it. I still have fresh memories of my own visit to the site – as a journalist – in December 2000. Almost fifteen years after the explosion in reactor number four on April 26, 1986, I was there to attend the final closing of the nuclear complex. Up until then, the remaining reactors had been operating to some degree, providing electricity to the area and necessary jobs for the people. In exchange for a compensation package from the West, former Ukrainian president Kuchma had agreed to a ‘premature stoppage,’ and the loss . . .

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Man versus Nature

Japanese tsunami debris on the open ocean, March 2011 | Wikimedia Commons

When I first read Elzbieta Matynia’s response to the massive earthquake in Japan, I respected the sincerity of her judgment, but thought that it was a bit much. It seemed to me that actually the news reports I was reading suggested a much more positive story than the one she seemed to be reading. The earthquake was the most severe in recorded Japanese history, much more powerful than the devastating ones in Haiti and Chile. Yet the death toll seemed to be quite modest, a little more than one hundred people. This suggested to me the wonders of modern technology. As the father of an architect, I was proud of what humans can do when they put their minds to it.

Then the reports began to come in about the tsunami, reminding me, reminding us, the limits of human power in the face of a massive natural force. My decision to introduce Elzbieta’s reflections with the suggestion that perhaps thousands have been killed, even though at the time the estimate was still between one and two hundred, were sadly justified. Now in the video reports we tremble in fear at the power the devastation reveals. This clearly puts us in our place.

But it is the third dimension of the disaster, human and not natural, that is the most humbling. While the wonders of technology are revealed in minimizing the effects of the earthquake, the dangers of our technology are revealed in the still escalating nuclear disaster. It reminds us that we are capable of destroying our world, demonstrating the deadly potential of atoms for peace, along with atoms for war.

Indian Point Energy Center © Daniel Case | Wikimedia Commons

I feel compassion, perhaps pity, for the victims in Japan, something that we will return to tomorrow in a post on distant suffering. But given the powers of modern media and given that I write these reflections a few miles downstream from the Indian . . .

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