Michael R. Edelstein

Hanford: The Closed City and its Downwind Victims

The post-Cold War period allowed the U.S. nuclear legacy of ecocide to be declassified and made public. The policy of nuclear secrecy, evident in Russia (see Mironova et al., this volume), was not merely an eastern practice. Western nuclear releases were kept equally under wraps. In England, for example, the Windscale disaster was not fully disclosed until 1987.1 Likewise, releases from the Hanford Nuclear Reservation, in Washington State, and other U.S. nuclear sites were kept undercover until the same period. The irony was that Americans learned of many of the nuclear skeletons in their closet around the time that Russians learned of theirs (see Mironova et al., this volume). It would appear that glasnost was contagious.

Coming Clean after 9/11: The Continuing World Trade Center Disaster

The City of New York was suddenly and deliberately attacked on September 11, 2001, killing thousands of people and leaving unbelievable destruction. Thirty-eight buildings and structures were destroyed or damaged, including seven buildings in the World Trade Center site completely leveled. Almost five years later, two very large contaminated buildings, Deutsche Bank at 130 Liberty Street and Fiterman Hall of Borough of Manhattan Community College, have yet to be cleaned up and demolished. Some 30 million square feet of commercial space was lost. Transportation was disrupted, including the loss of the World Trade Center PATH station, the 1/9 subway line and portions of Route 9A and Church Street. Cars were not allowed south of Canal Street for a week. For Americans this was a terrorist attack and a crime. It was a time for mourning losses and responding to disaster. There was the shock that something like this could happen. And there was more. The destruction of the WTC also posed competing environmental, economic and social threats.

Fear of Cancer in a Rural Appalachian Community Following Notification of an Environmental Hazard

In this chapter we explore some of the intriguing questions raised by contaminated communities. Is there a connection between exposure to environmental hazards and psychological distress? If yes, how best can it be measured? What kinds of psychological problems are aggravated by this kind of life stress? How do we know that victims are truly experiencing increased problems such as anxiety, depression and fears about their health?

Chernobyl: A Liquidator's Story

In the cold war era, perhaps there were no greater heroes of the Soviet Union than the as many as 700,000 firefighters, workers, and military personnel who fought the blazing fires at the Chernobyl nuclear reactor that burned out of control for months until smothered by a makeshift concrete structure, called the “sarcophagus” built to contain radioactive releases. Whether this sarcophagus will last as long as the Egyptian monuments, its name evokes has been a matter of grave continuing concern. And it is doubtful that its symbolism as a lasting evidence of 20th century life will be equally appreciated through the ages. But in April 26, 1986, northern Europe had been placed in dire peril by the catastrophic accident in the number 4 reactor at Chernobyl. Smoke pouring from the fires lofted high in the sky to carry radioactive contaminants eventually across the Northern Hemisphere. Some 100 million curies of radiation were released within 10 days of the initial explosion, comprising the words worst civilian radiation release (Lawrence Livermore, 1999). And, the reactor threatened to unleash a nuclear explosion that would have dwarfed the effects of what already was the worlds worst nuclear accident. The situation demanded extreme sacrifice (see also Zykova, this volume).

Psycho-Social Consequences due to Radioactive Contamination in the Techa River Region of Russia

The Ural Mountain region is a remarkably beautiful landscape of forests and lakes. Here is the continental divide between Europe and Asia. One of the rivers originating here to eventually feed feeding the Artic Sea is the Techa river. But the verdant greenery that characterizes the region does not disclose the hidden dangers of plutonium and other radioactive materials either downstream or downwind of the Mayak Nuclear Complex. Major areas of the Techa river corridor and downwind areas were permanently evacuated after radioactive releases from the Mayak Nuclear Complex from the 1950s through the 1970s. Although acute and chronic water releases encompass this period, the so-called Kyshtim 57 accident, an air release from Mayak in 1957, was the words worst nuclear accident until surpassed by Chernobyl (see Mironova et al. and Kutepova and Tsepilova, this volume). But what of the inhabitants who remain? In this chapter, we explore some of the psycho-social impacts of living in contaminated areas, drawing primarily upon interviews with residents of the region. In doing this, we give voice to their perspective and views on each other and life in this contaminated region.1

Sustainability and the Need to Deal with the Contaminated Legacy: A Comparison of Russia and the U.S.

Sustainability is a catch term for the different way of life required to counter the ills of the modern era. It encompasses new social and economic as well as ecological relationships. Sustainability theory is, by its nature, hopeful in envisioning an alternative corrective course of action. This volume deals with “the negative legacy problem” that confounds this optimism because we have so profoundly contaminated and altered the earth in lasting ways. Any effort to create a sustainable future will have to deal with this legacy. It is a huge and profound burden faced unevenly by people and non-humans today and that we have left for future generations (see Edelstein, 2006).

The Parable of the Lions Bridge: Potentials for Mutual Learning between Cultures of Contamination

Four cast iron lions guard the charming Lions footbridge crossing St. Petersburgs Griboedov Canal. The first author strolled across the bridge on an August evening in 1998 with a Russian friend, Polina. The experience presents a parable for concluding this volume:As we crossed the bridge in the dark, we barely avoided stepping into a gaping hole in the deck half way across. A person could easily fall through. I reacted as a typical American, immediately taking responsibility for doing something about the problem, looking for some board to place over the hole or a barrier to warn pedestrians or someone to report the hazard to who would address it promptly. Polina indicated that no Russian would make such a fuss, and she could think of no one to report the hazard to who would respond. As we stood discussing this problem before two of the guardian lions, a group of drunken soldiers began to cross the bridge from the far side, arm in arm, singing loudly. Sure enough, one slipped through the hole and, but for his comrades holding his arms, he would have plunged into the canal. Surely they will report it, I said, but Polina was doubtful. She saw little chance for some protective action to fix the bridge or even to warn passers-by to beware. We went on our way mindful of the problem left behind. Perhaps a month after my return to the U.S., I received an email from Polina that she had gone to the bridge and, to her surprise, it was fixed. “Perhaps,” she wrote, “there is hope for Russia after all.”

Informing environmental decision making: environmental impact assessment in Russia and the United States

This paper examines the roles of nonprofit organizations as public participants in the environmental impact assessment process in the United States and Russia. Field data collection was carried out in fall 1999 in the U.S. and in winter 2000 in Russia. It was demonstrated that the U.S. citizens have a much greater access to participatory process than do Russians. However, Impact Assessment in both countries is advisory. In neither country do citizens have the right to participate in actual decision making.