Innocent Victims of the Nuclear Age
By “Awake!” correspondent in Guam
ON MONDAY, July 1, 1946, the sparkling calm lagoon of a little-known atoll in the Marshall Islands, about 2,000 miles (3,200 km) southwest of Hawaii, was shattered by a blinding explosion. A radioactive mushroom cloud soared six miles (10 km) into the sky, and Bikini gained instant fame as the site of the first peacetime nuclear bomb test.
Bikini consisted of a number of small, tropical islands and islets around an oval-shaped, 299-square-mile (775-sq-km) lagoon. Five months after the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were devastated by nuclear bombs, the U.S. government selected Bikini to be the spot for further nuclear experiments, and public announcements to this effect were made in the United States. It was only some weeks later, however, that the natives of Bikini were told that they would have to move.
The 167 islanders were loath to leave, but they consented when they were told that the tests were “for the good of mankind and to end all world wars.” Soon thousands of military and scientific personnel, as well as hundreds of ships and aircraft, began arriving at the palm-clad atoll. Meanwhile, the Bikinians sadly prepared to leave their home, embarking on a long odyssey that, for many of them, has not yet ended.
The Bikinians had been told that they would be able to go home at the conclusion of the tests, hence they chose to settle on Rongerik atoll, 125 miles (200 km) to the east. But Rongerik was no Bikini. This formerly uninhabited atoll of 17 islands contained a mere half square mile (1.3 sq km) of dry land, compared to Bikini’s 2.3 square miles (6 sq km). Its 55 square miles (142 sq km) of lagoon did not begin to compare with the 299 square miles (774 sq km) of lagoon in Bikini. The solitary well supplied only brackish water. The coconuts were of poor quality. And many species of fish that were edible on Bikini were poisonous on Rongerik. Less than two months after arriving, the Bikinians asked to return home. This was, unfortunately, impossible.
Natives from the nearby Rongelap atoll heard of their distress and tried to help by bringing fish and other foods over to them in outrigger canoes. But the situation on Rongerik continued to deteriorate. A disastrous fire destroyed 30 percent of the productive coconut trees, causing even greater food shortages. Several medical reports made during the next two years confirmed that the Bikinians were a “starving people,” and their departure from Rongerik had been “too long delayed.”
Finally they were evacuated a second time, to a temporary camp at the naval base on Kwajalein, also in the Marshall Islands. Several months later, they voted in favor of moving to Kili. This was a single island only one third of a square mile (.86 sq km) in area. But it had one thing to recommend it—it was uninhabited. Why was that important?
The Marshall islanders do not have land rights in atolls other than those of their own social grouping. Nor do they buy and sell land as people in other nations do. Because the land and sea provide their sustenance, Marshallese are reluctant to take up residence where other islanders live. On any but an uninhabited atoll, they would be the equivalent of poor relatives, dependent on the goodwill of the natives. The Bikinians did not want that; hence, they went to Kili.
But living conditions there were poor. Kili is surrounded by a narrow rock shelf that drops steeply into deep water. Although coconuts grow well and rainfall is plentiful, there are no reef fish and no shellfish, for the surf breaks directly onto the rocky shelf. Canoes are useless as there is no way to launch them through the rough waters. During the trade-wind season, the ocean is so stormy that supply boats cannot reach the island. A Bikinian now living in Majuro commented: “Life on Rongerik and Kili was very hard. It was worse than being in jail because the islands were so small and there was not enough food.”
In the Meantime . . .
Meantime, a 40-islet atoll named Eniwetok, also in the Marshalls, was eyed for additional nuclear weapons tests. Hence, the natives were evacuated and transported to Ujelang, 124 miles (200 km) southwest. This island, incidentally, had also been chosen by the Bikinians, who were already building new houses there for themselves when, with little notice, the authorities moved in the Eniwetokese instead. There was much bitterness on the part of the Bikinians over this.
Then came the hydrogen bombs, the first of which was tested at Eniwetok in 1952. One island and parts of two others were completely vaporized. A disastrous test (ironically named Bravo) occurred on March 1, 1954, at Bikini. This, the largest announced hydrogen bomb, was perhaps 700 times more powerful than the first atomic bomb dropped at Bikini. A blinding flash of light followed by a fireball of tens of millions of degrees of heat shot upward at a rate of 300 miles (483 km) an hour. Within minutes, the huge mushroomlike cloud rose to 100,000 feet (about 30,500 m).
The lagoon was rocked by several-hundred-miles-per-hour winds. Hundreds of millions of tons of Bikini’s reef, islands and lagoon were pulverized and sucked up into the air. High-level winds bore the deadly radioactive ash 80 miles (130 km), to shower down like snow on 23 Japanese fishermen in a boat called Lucky Dragon. More than a hundred miles (160 km) away, on the inhabited atolls of Rongerik and Rongelap—whose inhabitants had been so kind to the exiled Bikinians—the gritty, radioactive ash fell to a depth of two inches (5 cm). Almost 275 miles (440 km) away, on the Utirik atoll, the ash fell like a mist. In all, 11 islands and 3 atolls were directly affected.
Soon afterward, the Japanese fishermen and the inhabitants of Utirik and Rongelap began showing the effects of acute radiation exposure: itching, burning skin, nausea and vomiting. One of the Japanese fishermen died not long afterward, and within the next two years the Japanese government received two million dollars in compensation for the other sick crew members and the damage to the tuna industry.
When the testing was over, there had been 23 nuclear blasts at Bikini and 43 at Eniwetok, ranging from 18 kilotons to 15 megatons! Although there were breaks between tests, on the average one nuclear weapon was exploded every other day when a series began.
What Next?
Sometime after the testing was over, everyone thought the Bikinians could go home. After an initial survey by the Atomic Energy Commission in 1969, Bikini was declared safe. All test-related debris was to be dumped at three sites located less than a mile out in the lagoon. Bikinians were told: “There’s virtually no radiation left, and we can find no discernible effect on either plant or animal life.” The cleanup and resettlement was planned to extend over an eight-year period.
But the longtime dream turned into a nightmare. Instead of the lush islands they had left, those who returned found a shattered atoll covered with dense, worthless scrub, few trees and tons of testing debris. Some wept bitterly. Nevertheless, with financial help they set to work replanting coconut trees and other crops, and constructing houses.
But their problems were not over. Radiological tests made in 1972 and 1975 revealed higher levels of radioactivity than originally thought. Some wells were too radioactive for drinking purposes. Certain foods were forbidden. High levels of radioactivity were found in their bodies. So, once again, the Bikinians were on the move—back to Kili. The 50,000 coconut trees and 40 new homes that were part of the three-million-dollar rehabilitation plan were abandoned. Scientific studies of Bikini made in April 1983 show that without a massive cleanup it will be at least 110 years before anyone will be able to live there.
What of the Other Victims?
An 18-kiloton explosion in 1958 failed to chain-react and it spread lethal plutonium 237 over the island of Runit, one of Eniwetok’s 40 islands. The debris was later gathered, buried in the bomb crater and capped with a 370-foot-wide (113-m) and 19-inch-thick (48-cm) concrete cap. It covers 110,000 cubic yards (84,000 cu m) of some of the most dangerous waste in the world. According to one report, it will be completely off limits “forever.” Only three islands in the atoll can be used for residence, and the diet will consist primarily of imported foods until locally planted coconuts, breadfruit and arrowroot are mature. In 1980, 500 Eniwetokese returned, but less than two years later, 100 of them left due to the difficult conditions. The cleanup and rehabilitation phases cost $218 million.
Meanwhile, in the atolls that were doused by radioactive fallout, the rate of thyroid abnormalities, cataracts, retardation in growth, stillbirths and miscarriages for the inhabitants is far higher than among the other Marshallese. Many of the 250 Marshallese exposed to the 1954 “Bravo” blast have thyroid tumors. All 250 have thyroid abnormalities. They seem unusually susceptible to colds, flu and throat ailments. Most of them tire easily and almost all of them worry about their health.
A government leader said: “Each person who has been exposed asks himself, ‘Will I be well tomorrow? Will my children be normal?’ And when he becomes ill he asks himself, ‘Is this an ordinary illness, or has the ghost of the bomb come to claim me now—even years after?’” One man on Utirik atoll lamented, “Several of my babies who were healthy at the time they were born died before they were a year old . . . Altogether I lost four babies. My son Winton was born just one year after the bomb, and he has had two operations on his throat for thyroid cancer.”
“Hope Deferred . . .”
The future of the exiles from Bikini is still not certain. Hawaii, their latest choice for relocation, is being considered by the U.S. government. Most of them are still living on Kili Island. Their experiences demonstrate how tragic the nuclear arms race is. It costs far more in money and effort than the human race can afford, and even in peacetime it claims victims, including innocent bystanders living far, far away from the powerful countries that compete with one another for nuclear superiority.
The Bible says: “Hope deferred makes the heart sick.” (Proverbs 13:12, The New English Bible) This has been the Bikinians’ experience when relying on men. Nevertheless, for many years now, a message has been broadcast by radio from Majuro all through the Marshall Islands that calls attention, not to the arms race but to God’s Kingdom as the source of real security. This is truly “for the good of mankind and to end all world wars.” Soon that Kingdom will ‘make wars to cease to the extremity of the earth,’ and “bring to ruin those ruining the earth.”—Psalm 46:9; Revelation 11:18.
When the Bikinians living on Kili visit Majuro to obtain supplies or do business, they receive this message personally from the many active Witnesses of Jehovah there. A knowledge that the time is very close when the Kingdom will bring paradise conditions back to the earth will help them to experience the latter half of the Bible verse mentioned above: “A wish come true is a staff of life.”Pr 13:12 Under that Kingdom, there will be no more nuclear threat—and no more victims.