There’s a long and devastating history behind the proposal for a nuclear waste dump in South Australia


Rosemary Laing, one dozen considerations, Totem 1, Emu (2013) on display at The Image is Not Nothing.
Josh Geelen

Katherine Aigner, Australian National UniversityOn Saturday the Adelaide Festival hosted a public showing of Australian Atomic Confessions, a documentary I co-directed about the tragic and long-lasting effects of the atomic weapons testing carried out by Britain in South Australia in the 1950s.

Amid works from 20 artists reflecting on nuclear trauma as experienced by Indigenous peoples, the discussion that followed brought up the ways in which attempts at nuclear colonisation have continued in South Australia, and are continuing right now.

For the fourth time in 23 years South Australia is being targeted for a nuclear waste dump — this time at Napandee, a property near Kimba on the Eyre Peninsula.

The plan is likely to require the use of a port, most probably Whyalla, to receive reprocessed nuclear fuel waste by sea from France, the United Kingdom and the Lucas Heights reactor in NSW via Port Kembla.


Napandee. Site Characterisation Technical Report.
Department of Industry

The waste will be stored above ground in concrete vaults which will be filled for 100 years and monitored for a further 200-300 years.

Nuclear waste can remain hazardous for thousands of years.

The Barngarla people hold cultural rights and responsibilities for the region but were excluded from a government poll about the proposal because they were not deemed to be local residents.

The 734 locals who took part backed the proposal 61.6%

The Barngarla people are far from the first in South Australia to be excluded from a say about proposals to spread nuclear materials over their land.

It’s not the first such proposal

Australian Atomic Confessions explores the legacy of the nine British atomic bombs dropped on Maralinga and Emu Field in the 1950s, and the “minor trials” that continued into the 1960s.

After failed clean-ups by the British in the 1960s followed by a Royal Commission in the 1980s, the Australian Radiation Protection and Nuclear Safety Agency conducted a cleanup between 1995 and 2000 it assures us was successful to the point where most of the contaminated areas at Maralinga fall well within the clean-up standards applied for unrestricted land use.

But experts remain sceptical, given the near-surface burial of plutonium and contamination remaining across a wide area.

The Tjarutja people are allowed to move through and hunt at the Maralinga site with their radiation levels monitored but are not permitted to camp there permanently.

Nina Sanadze, 100 Years After, 30 years On, 3rd Tbilisi Triennial (2018) on display as part of The Image is not Nothing.
Sandro Sulaberidze

We are told that what happened in the 1950s wouldn’t happen today, in relation to the proposed nuclear waste dump. But it wasn’t our enemies who bombed us at Maralinga and Emu Field, it was an ally.

In exchange for allowing 12 British atomic bombs tests (including those at the Monte Bello Islands off the northern coast of Western Australia), the Australian government got access to nuclear technology which it used to build the Lucas Heights reactor.

It is primarily the nuclear waste produced from six decades of operations at Lucas Heights that would be dumped onto Barngarla country in South Australia, closing the links in this nuclear trauma chain.




Read more:
Sixty years on, Maralinga reminds us not to put security over safety


Nuclear bombs and nuclear waste disproportionately impact Indigenous peoples, yet Australia still has not signed up to the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples. The declaration requires states to ensure there is no storage or disposal of hazardous materials on the lands of Indigenous peoples without their free, prior and informed consent.


Article 29, United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples

Nor has Australia shown any willingness to sign up to the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons which came into force on January 22 this year after a lobbying campaign that began in Australia and was endorsed by Indigenous leaders worldwide.

Aboriginal people have long known the dangers of uranium on their country.

Water from the Great Artesian Basin has been extracted by the Olympic Dam copper-uranium mine for decades. Fragile mound springs of spiritual significance to the Arabunna People are disappearing, posing questions for the mining giant BHP to answer.

Artworks on display at The Image is not Nothing at the Adelaide Festival.
Josh Geelen

Australian uranium from BHP Olympic Dam and the now-closed Rio Tinto Ranger mine fuelled the 2011 Fukushima nuclear disaster.

Senior traditional custodian of the Mirrar people, Yvonne Margarula, wrote to the United Nations in 2013 saying her people feel responsible for what happened.

It is likely that the radiation problems at Fukushima are, at least in part, fuelled by uranium derived from our traditional lands. This makes us feel very sad.

The Irati Wanti (The Poison, Leave It!) campaign led by a council of senior Aboriginal women helped defeat earlier proposals for nuclear waste dumps between 1998 and 2004.

There remains strong Indigenous opposition to the current nuclear waste proposal.

Over the past five years, farmers have joined with the Barngarla People to protect their communities and the health of the land.




Read more:
Friday essay: the silence of Ediacara, the shadow of uranium


In 2020 the government introduced into the Senate a bill that would do away with traditional owners’ and farmers’ rights to judicial reviews and procedural fairness in regard to the use of land for the facility.

Resources Minister Keith Pitt is deciding how to proceed.The Conversation

Katherine Aigner, PhD candidate Centre for Aboriginal Economic Policy, Australian National University

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons license. Read the original article.

Pristine paradise to rubbish dump: the same Pacific island, 23 years apart



File 20170714 14306 wmgjzv
The same beach on Henderson Island, in 1992 and 2015.

Jennifer Lavers, University of Tasmania and Alexander Bond, Royal Society for the Protection of Birds

A few weeks ago, the world woke to the story of Henderson Island, the “South Pacific island of rubbish”. Our research revealed it as a place littered with plastic garbage, washed there by ocean currents.

This was a story we had been waiting to tell for more than a year, keeping our discoveries under wraps while we worked our way through mountains of data and photographs.

Our May 2017 video story detailing the rubbish on Henderson Island.

Everyone wanted to know how the plastic got there, and fortunately that is a question that our understanding of ocean currents can help us answer. But the question we couldn’t answer was: when did it all start to go so wrong?

This is the million-dollar question for so many wild species and spaces – all too often we only notice a problem once it’s too big to deny, or perhaps even solve. So when did Henderson’s sad story start? The answer is: surprisingly recently.

An eloquent photo

During our research we had reached out to those who had previously worked on Henderson Island or in nearby areas, to gain a better understanding of what forces contributed to the enormous piles of rubbish that have floated to Henderson’s sandy beaches.

Then, after our research was published and the world was busy reading about 37 million plastic items washed up on a remote south Pacific island, we received an email from Professor Marshall Weisler from the University of Queensland, who had seen the news and got in touch.

In 1992, he had done archaeological surveys on Henderson Island. The photos he shared from that expedition provided a rare glimpse into the beginning of this chapter of Henderson Island’s story, before it became known as “garbage island”.

Henderson Island in happier times.
Marshall Weisler, Author provided
The same stretch of beach in 2015.
Jennifer Lavers, Author provided

There are only 23 years between these two photos, and the transformation is terrifying – from pristine South Pacific gem to the final resting place for enormous quantities of the world’s waste.

Remember, this is not waste that was dumped directly by human hands. It was washed here on ocean currents, meaning that this is not just about one beach – it shows how much the pollution problem has grown in the entire ocean system in little more than two decades.

To us, Henderson Island was a brutal wake-up call, and there are undoubtedly other garbage islands out there, inundated and overwhelmed by the waste generated in the name of progress. Although the amount of trash on Henderson is staggering – an average of 3,570 new pieces arrive each day on one beach alone – it represents a minute fraction of the rubbish produced around the globe.

Cleanup confounded

In the wake of the story, the other big question we received (and one we should have seen coming) was: can I help you clean up Henderson Island? The answer is no, for a very long list of reasons – some obvious, some not.

To quote a brilliant colleague, what matters is this: if all we ever do is clean up, that is all we will ever do. With thousands of new plastic items washing up on Henderson Island every day, the answer is clear.

The solution doesn’t require travel to a remote island, only the courage to look within. We need to change our behaviour, to turn off the tap and stem the tide of trash in the ocean. Our oceans, our islands, and our planet demand, and deserve it.

However difficult those changes may be, what choice do we have?

Prevention, not cure

While grappling with the scale of the plastics issue can at times be overwhelming, there are simple things you can do to make a difference. The solutions aren’t always perfect, but each success will keep you, your family, and your community motivated to reduce plastic use.

First, ask yourself this: when did it become acceptable for something created from non-renewable petrochemicals, extracted from the depths of the Earth and shipped around the globe, to be referred to as “single use” or “disposable”? Your relationship with plastic begins with the language you use.

But don’t stop there: here are a couple of facts illustrating how you can challenge yourself and make a difference.

Challenge: switch to bamboo toothbrushes, which cost just a few dollars each and are available from a range of online retailers or wholefood shops.

Challenge: switch to products that use crushed apricot kernels, coconut shell, coffee grounds, or sea salts as natural exfoliants.

The ConversationThese are only small changes, and you can undoubtedly think of many more. But we need to start turning the tide if we are to stop more pristine places being deluged with our garbage.

Jennifer Lavers, Research Scientist, Institute for Marine and Antarctic Studies, University of Tasmania and Alexander Bond, Senior Conservation Scientist, Royal Society for the Protection of Birds

This article was originally published on The Conversation. Read the original article.