Atomic Geography

“I have spent a career sifting through the rubble, the abandoned documents, the factories and tools, with the thought of saving what remains of water, land, and animals. But water, wind, and root have their way.”--Melvin R. Adams Perhaps the first environmental engineer at Hanford, Adams spent twenty-four years on its 586 square miles. His thoughtful vignettes recall challenges and sites he worked on or found personally intriguing, like the 216-U-pond. Nestled among the trees, the pond looks like a pleasant place to go fishing. In reality, it has been contaminated with plutonium longer than any other place on earth. In what Adams considers his most successful project, he helped determine the initial scope of the soil and solid waste cleanup. The Environmental Restoration and Disposal Facility today covers 107 acres and has a capacity of 18 million tons. His group also designed and tested a marked, maintenance-free disposal barrier. It uses natural materials that will remain stable for thousands of years. They expanded a network of groundwater monitoring wells to define contaminated plumes, assess treatment effectiveness, and provide relevant data to hydrologists. They also developed a pilot scale pump and treatment plant for use on a four-square-mile carbon tetrachloride plume. His environmental and engineering unit included a biological control group fondly dubbed “The Weeds.” They controlled tumbleweeds, tracked and collected plants and animals found growing or digging in contaminated sites, and caught stray wildlife discovered in Hanford offices. In Atomic Geography, Adams presents some surprising revelations. He shares his perspective on leaking high-level waste storage tanks, dosimeters, and Hanford’s obsession with safety. He answers the question he is asked most, insisting he does not glow in the dark. He leaves that to spent fuel rods in water storage basins--a phenomenon known as Cherenkov radiation.

Perhaps the first environmental engineer at Hanford, Melvin R. Adams spent 24 years on its 586 square miles of desert terrain. His thoughtful vignettes recall challenges and sites he worked on or found personally intriguing--like the 216-U-pond, contaminated with plutonium longer than any place on earth. In what Adams considers his most successful project, he helped determine the initial scope of the soil and solid waste cleanup. His group also designed and tested a marked, maintenance-free disposal barrier, expanded a network of groundwater monitoring wells, and developed a pilot scale pump and treatment plant. Adams shares his perspective on leaking high-level waste storage tanks, dosimeters, and Hanford¿s obsession with safety. He even answers his least favorite question, insisting he does not glow in the dark. He leaves that unique ability to spent fuel rods in water storage basins--a phenomenon known as Cherenkov radiation.

Basing the volume on archival materials, Geoffrey Martin explains not only what American geographers did, but also why they chose the paths they took. The letters upon which the volume relies enable Martin to enter the minds of our predecessors in ways that histories based on secondary sources cannot. By tracing interpersonal connections among domestic geographers, and with overseas colleagues (especially in Germany and France), Martin sheds new light on the intellectual and structural foundations of American geography.

"In "Atomic Environments," Neil S. Oatsvall examines how top policymakers in the Truman and Eisenhower administrations used environmental science in their work developing nuclear strategy at the beginning of the Cold War. While many people were involved in research and analysis during the period in question, it was at highest levels of executive decision-making where environmental science and nuclear science most clearly combined to shape the nation's policies. Because making and testing weapons, dealing with fallout and nuclear waste, and finding uses for radioactive byproducts required advanced understanding of how nuclear systems interacted with the world, policymakers utilized existing networks of environmental scientists-particularly meteorologists, geologists, and ecologists-to understand and control the United States' use of nuclear technology. Instead of profiling individuals, Oatsvall focuses on executive institutions, especially the leadership of the Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) and high level officials in the Truman and Eisenhower White Houses, including the presidents, themselves. By scrutinizing institutional policymaking practices and agendas at the birth of the nuclear age, a constant set of values becomes clear: "Atomic Environments" reveals an emerging technocratic class that consistently valued knowledge about the environment to help create and maintain a nuclear arsenal, despite its existential threat to life on earth and the negative effects many nuclear technologies directly had on ecosystems and the American people, alike. "Atomic Environments" is divided into five chapters, each of which probes a different facet of the entanglement between environment, nuclear technologies, and policymaking. The first three chapters form a rough narrative arc about nuclear weapons. Chapter One situates bombs in their "natural habitat" by considering why nuclear tests occurred where they did and what testers thought they revealed about the natural environment and how they influenced it. Focusing on nuclear fallout, Chapter Two argues that nuclear tests actually functioned as a massive, uncontrolled experiment in world environments and human bodies that intermingled medicine, nuclear science, and environmental science. Chapter Three shows how the environmental knowledge gained in the first two chapters led to nuclear test ban treaty talks during the Eisenhower era, when the advancement of environmental knowledge and the natural world itself became crucial grounds of contention in the creation of nuclear test detection and evasion systems. The last two chapters step away from weapons to question how other nuclear technologies and facets of the U.S. nuclear program interacted with the natural world. Chapter Four examines agriculture's place in the U.S. nuclear program, from breakthrough advances in agricultural science including the use of radioisotopes and the direct application of radiation to food, to "atomic agriculture's" public relations value as a peaceful proxy, which shifted the moral calculus and further leveraged the U.S. government's atomic power. Chapter Five shows how knowledge of the natural world and the functioning of its systems proved important to uncovering the most effective ways to dispose of nuclear waste. Running throughout, Oatsvall consistently demonstrates how the natural world and the scientific disciplines that study it became integral parts of nuclear science, rather than adversarial fields of knowledge. But while nuclear technologies heavily depended on environmental science to develop, those same technologies frequently caused great harm to the natural world. Moreover, while some individuals expressed real anxieties about the damage wrought by nuclear technologies, policymakers as a class consistently made choices that privileged nuclear boosterism and secrecy, prioritizing institutional values over the lives and living systems that agencies like the AEC were ostensibly charged to protect. In the end, Oatsvall argues that although policymakers took their charge to protect and advance the welfare of the United States and its people seriously, they often failed to do so because their allegiance to the U.S. nuclear hierarchy blinded them to the real risks and dangers of the nuclear age"--

A thrilling narrative of scientific triumph, decades of secrecy, and the unimaginable destruction wrought by the creation of the atomic bomb. It began with plutonium, the first element ever manufactured in quantity by humans. Fearing that the Germans would be the first to weaponize the atom, the United States marshaled brilliant minds and seemingly inexhaustible bodies to find a way to create a nuclear chain reaction of inconceivable explosive power. In a matter of months, the Hanford nuclear facility was built to produce and weaponize the enigmatic and deadly new material that would fuel atomic bombs. In the desert of eastern Washington State, far from prying eyes, scientists Glenn Seaborg, Enrico Fermi, and many thousands of others—the physicists, engineers, laborers, and support staff at the facility—manufactured plutonium for the bomb dropped on Nagasaki, and for the bombs in the current American nuclear arsenal, enabling the construction of weapons with the potential to end human civilization. With his characteristic blend of scientific clarity and storytelling, Steve Olson asks why Hanford has been largely overlooked in histories of the Manhattan Project and the Cold War. Olson, who grew up just twenty miles from Hanford’s B Reactor, recounts how a small Washington town played host to some of the most influential scientists and engineers in American history as they sought to create the substance at the core of the most destructive weapons ever created. The Apocalypse Factory offers a new generation this dramatic story of human achievement and, ultimately, of lethal hubris.

The war in Ukraine, with the exposure of nuclear power stations and the danger of atomic warfare, has made the legacy of the Soviet nuclear sector of critical importance. The two authors map the Soviet nuclear industry in a shifting historical context, making sense of a complex socio-technical and environmental history. Taking an innovative approach, this book explores the history of atomic power in the former Soviet Union using the spatial dimensions of the nuclear industry as a point of departure. The key concept is that of the archipelago – a network of nuclear facilities spread throughout the Soviet territory, but mutually reliant on each other and densely connected. The story traces the emergence of nuclear science and technology for military and civilian purposes through to the post-Soviet Russian nuclear corporations as providers of resources and technology. The book explains how nuclear developments in the Soviet Union interacted with processes of environmental and landscape change. The spatial lens offers an analytically fruitful and pedagogically stimulating way to comprehend the nuclear histories of the Soviet Union and its successor states.

Since before the first atomic bomb exploded over Hiroshima, the history of nuclear warfare has been tangled with the spaces and places of scientific research and weapons testing, armament and disarmament, pacifism and proliferation. Nuclear geography gives us the tools to understand these events as well as the extraordinary human cost of nuclear weapons. Disarming Doomsday explores the secret history of nuclear weapons by studying the places they build and tear apart, from Los Alamos to Hiroshima. It looks at the legacy of nuclear imperialism from weapons testing on Christmas Island and across the South Pacific, as well as the lasting harm this has caused to both indigenous communities and the soldiers that were ordered to conduct tests. Tying these complex geographies together for the first time, Disarming Doomsday takes us forward, describing how geographers and geotechnology continue to shape nuclear war and imagining ways to help prevent it in the future.