Part 1 Introduction
July 2nd, 2016 marks fifty years since
French Polynesia became a “center for experimentation” for the French nuclear
weapons program. We could call the quiet disaster that followed “the Chernobyl
of the Pacific.” The voices of those who lived through this period (1966-1996)
sound all too similar to those
in Voices
of Chernobyl, by Svetlana
Alexievich. Yet the
significant difference is that Chernobyl was an unintended, though perhaps
predictable, catastrophe. The French nuclear tests in the South Pacific were
plotted and carried out over thirty years, premeditated with full awareness of
what the consequences could be. The French program also differed from the
American program in the Marshall Islands in that it was carried out in a
well-established colony of France. The Americans were newcomers when they came
to the Marshall Islands and imposed their plans for destruction on a
defenseless culture. The French nucleocrats came to Polynesia seeking the
cooperation of the territorial government which, if not for the temptations of
jobs and economic benefits brought by the CEP (Centre d’expérimentation du
Pacifique en Polynésie française), could have opposed the nuclear tests and
probably could have succeeded in stopping them. And this is one aspect of the
story that stings the conscience of Polynesia to this day. The tests did
proceed, against the strong objections of the world and all other Pacific
Island nations, and they were carried out after the United States and the Soviet
Union had recognized the madness of atmospheric and underwater tests and halted
them in the early 1960s.
On July 2nd, as Polynesians gather to
remember the testing era, in solidarity with the military and civilian veterans
from France who are also victims of the fallout, they are protesting several
aspects of their official treatment. One is the lack of progress in recognition
of health effects and compensation for victims. The Morin Law of 2010 was
supposed to have been a major step in this direction, but out of the 1,000
applications filed, only 20 have led to compensation, and only four of those
individuals were Polynesian. [1] Another issue is decontamination work that
still needs to be done on the inhabited island of Hao. Polynesians are also displeased
with the unapologetic stance of the French government which was made obvious
during President Hollande’s visit earlier this year. While admitting to the
consequences of testing, he never came close to saying the nuclear tests are
something to be regretted, and, unsurprisingly, he failed to say anything about
France living up to its obligation to disarm, as required by the Nuclear Non-Proliferation
Treaty (NPT). He declared only, “I recognize that the nuclear tests conducted
between 1966 and 1996 in French Polynesia had an environmental impact, and
caused health consequences,” but he added that without its overseas
territories, “France would not now have nuclear weapons and the power of
dissuasion.” [2] Thus, though he admitted that the testing program had grave
social and biological consequences, the lack of apology was equivalent to
saying Polynesians had made a noble sacrifice and France was at best grateful
for it.
In recent years, pro-France and
pro-independence parties have been in and out of power. For periods of several months,
or one, two or three years, the pro-independence leader Oscar Temaru was president
of French Polynesia (2004, 2005-2006, 2007-2008, 2009, 2011-2013), and during his
time in power he initiated programs to investigate the effects of nuclear
testing and to educate Polynesians and the world about the nuclear testing era.
It was during this time that Bruno Barrillot was appointed by Temaru as lead
researcher, and the Witnesses of the Bomb
project was one of products of these efforts. Eight of the testimonies from the
exhibit and related book have been translated and published below. The French
version of the thirty-seven-page book is available as a free pdf download here.
This week (late June 2016), at the exhibition Polynesia Under the Bomb, Oscar Temaru
stated the case for Polynesian independence, saying that in order for
Polynesia to succeed at the International Court of Justice, it must attend as
a sovereign nation, and in order to sign cooperative accords with France, the
two nations have to negotiate as equal, independent states. He called the
existing Papeete Accords a great lie carried out with the complicity of “the elected
sellouts of our country.” [3]
|
The excerpts that follow are translations of testimonies in the Witnesses of the Bomb publication that was released in 2013. The French text, with portrait photography of the witnesses, is available online at no cost. Part 4 is a transcript of an interview with Bruno Barrillot about the project.
Memorial Site for Nuclear Testings, Papeete, Tahiti,
French Polynesia
Between 1966 and 1996, France detonated 193 atomic bombs on
Moruroa and Fangataufa Atolls. The land and people of French Polynesia’s six
archipelagos–symbolized by these six stones placed on a traditional paepae–faced significant upheaval, as
the nuclear tests were imposed on them. Hiroshima, Nagasaki, Bikini,
Enewetak, Montebello, Emu Field, Maralinga, Malden, Kiritimati, Johnston,
Moruroa, Fangataufa–the many locations around the Pacific chosen as nuclear
test sites by the United States, the United Kingdom and France. The thousands
of former test-site workers and the peoples of the Pacific live with the
memory of these weapons, which today still continue to affect their health
and environment. This Memorial Site was inaugurated during the Presidential
term of Mr. Oscar Manutahi Temaru, 2nd of July 2006, the fortieth anniversary
of the first nuclear test on Moruroa Atoll.
|
Video interview
with Bruno Barrillot on the Witnesses of the Bomb project (in French
with English subtitles, translation by Dennis Riches)
The
English transcript can be found at the end of this article.
Part 3 Excerpts from: Witnesses of the
Bomb [4] translation by Dennis Riches
i. Foreword by
Bruno Barrillot: To give meaning to things unsaid
The big bang of the bomb has not
finished propagating its waves through the Polynesian universe. There isn’t
really any scientific discourse, or even a rational discourse throughout these
thirty-three testimonies. In effect, how could one be rational when the big
bang has taken root in a nest of irrationality and denial of all humanity?
For the exhibition Witnesses of the Bomb, Marie-Hélène Villierme and Arnaud Hudelot
have, each with their own art form, captured these Polynesian voices before
they fade. In order to not forget.
Marie-Hélène, the photographer, has
caught in these thirty-three portraits expressions of indignation in some,
resignation in others, the emotions always overlaid with modesty.
Arnaud Hudelot, the director, effaced
himself behind the testimonies of the witnesses. The videos reveal long monologues
imprinted with memories that have now escaped being lost to time. They tell of
unexplained mourning, endured in general indifference, and the fear in which
one makes a tentative explanation of a social disruption still so poorly grasped.
This story is one of infinite sadness!
Had these words ever been uttered on the nuclear atolls, how they could have
had the power to frighten and dissuade. And still there is this bomb which,
today, some dare not call by its name: “that thing,” said Jacqueline. Or there
are still these diseases with no name which the doctors refrain from
qualifying. And there is still the remorse, barely concealed, in which some
imagine themselves still guilty for having touched the money that came from the
bomb.
There is hope, nonetheless, with this
pride in having resisted, with bare hands, one could say, the steamrolling
onslaught of a moneyed propaganda machine, with an ardent desire to construct a
memory for the generations to come.
 | |
| The memorial to victims of nuclear testing, Papeete, Tahiti. Photo by Robert Jacobs. |
ii. Roland Oldham
Roland Oldham has been president of the organization Moruroa e tatou since its creation in 2001. He recalls protesting against the nuclear tests when he was sixteen years old.
Roland Oldham is well known for his severe criticism of politicians of French Polynesia who allowed themselves to be corrupted by the bomb money. “Many of our deciders, only because of this monetary gain, participated in this adventure. Even if they had doubts, it is a fact that the money was convincing enough, and the rare politicians who opposed the nuclear tests were harassed by the French state.
He denounces the policy of deterrence of the French state. “You have to understand that there is a propaganda machine that is very powerful. And I remember just ten years ago it was still very difficult to speak to journalists about the nuclear tests. The next morning, those who had dared speak of them would be ripped to shreds in the press. So, we have to look at the situation as it is: this machine was so strong that politicians, and even the churches in Polynesia, supported the nuclear tests because the economic fallout was important, and it was precisely this economic fallout that also overturned Polynesian society.”
He continues, “The State used a formula that worked fine for forty years. They bought support, then they conducted the tests. People closed their eyes and stuck to the lie. Today, I think the State is using the same formula that is proven to work. When we see our politicians taking advantage of the trend, of the work that has been done by our citizen groups, we see that they do it not so that the victims will be compensated. They go to the French state to negotiate for more money for general use, but it is not tied to an explicit policy that states how it will help Polynesia.
Roland Oldham is aware that many generations will have to keep up the fight against the consequences of the nuclear tests and that it is now essential to focus on the younger generations. “There were about 150 underground tests at Moruroa and Fangataufa, and that must be the highest concentration of nuclear tests on such small atolls. You have to wonder what’s going to happen when there have already been leaks and a good part of the Moruroa atoll has crumbled. There are real dangers that will be of concern to future generations. I think that one of the most important battles for Moruroa e tatou will be to make the younger generations aware of these dangers.”
“Establishing Moruroa e tatou was not simple because in 2001, there were still two clans in Polynesian society. There were those who thought the nuclear tests were not something good for society and for the environment, and they were considered to be anti-French, separatists, etc. Then there were those in the majority who had accepted and even promoted the “clean” nuclear tests. So, from the beginning it was a confrontation between these two clans: the separatists, represented by the Tavini Huiraatira Party, versus the party headed by Gaston Flosse, the Tahoeraa Huiraatira Party. We had to explain to the victims, to the population, that it wasn’t a political question, that the health consequences didn’t affect only members of the Tavini Huiraatira Party and spare members of the Tahoeraa Huiraatira Party. One must also understand that politicians were content to maintain this cleavage between the people. Today they take advantage of the work done by citizens groups, not so much to fight for compensation for the victims but to say to France, “Give us some money!”
iii. Régis Gooding
Roland Oldham has been president of the organization Moruroa e tatou since its creation in 2001. He recalls protesting against the nuclear tests when he was sixteen years old.
Roland Oldham is well known for his severe criticism of politicians of French Polynesia who allowed themselves to be corrupted by the bomb money. “Many of our deciders, only because of this monetary gain, participated in this adventure. Even if they had doubts, it is a fact that the money was convincing enough, and the rare politicians who opposed the nuclear tests were harassed by the French state.
He denounces the policy of deterrence of the French state. “You have to understand that there is a propaganda machine that is very powerful. And I remember just ten years ago it was still very difficult to speak to journalists about the nuclear tests. The next morning, those who had dared speak of them would be ripped to shreds in the press. So, we have to look at the situation as it is: this machine was so strong that politicians, and even the churches in Polynesia, supported the nuclear tests because the economic fallout was important, and it was precisely this economic fallout that also overturned Polynesian society.”
He continues, “The State used a formula that worked fine for forty years. They bought support, then they conducted the tests. People closed their eyes and stuck to the lie. Today, I think the State is using the same formula that is proven to work. When we see our politicians taking advantage of the trend, of the work that has been done by our citizen groups, we see that they do it not so that the victims will be compensated. They go to the French state to negotiate for more money for general use, but it is not tied to an explicit policy that states how it will help Polynesia.
Roland Oldham is aware that many generations will have to keep up the fight against the consequences of the nuclear tests and that it is now essential to focus on the younger generations. “There were about 150 underground tests at Moruroa and Fangataufa, and that must be the highest concentration of nuclear tests on such small atolls. You have to wonder what’s going to happen when there have already been leaks and a good part of the Moruroa atoll has crumbled. There are real dangers that will be of concern to future generations. I think that one of the most important battles for Moruroa e tatou will be to make the younger generations aware of these dangers.”
“Establishing Moruroa e tatou was not simple because in 2001, there were still two clans in Polynesian society. There were those who thought the nuclear tests were not something good for society and for the environment, and they were considered to be anti-French, separatists, etc. Then there were those in the majority who had accepted and even promoted the “clean” nuclear tests. So, from the beginning it was a confrontation between these two clans: the separatists, represented by the Tavini Huiraatira Party, versus the party headed by Gaston Flosse, the Tahoeraa Huiraatira Party. We had to explain to the victims, to the population, that it wasn’t a political question, that the health consequences didn’t affect only members of the Tavini Huiraatira Party and spare members of the Tahoeraa Huiraatira Party. One must also understand that politicians were content to maintain this cleavage between the people. Today they take advantage of the work done by citizens groups, not so much to fight for compensation for the victims but to say to France, “Give us some money!”
iii. Régis Gooding
Régis Gooding worked at Moruroa from
the age of 16, at the time of the atmospheric tests, to “help his father feed
his four brothers and three sisters.” He tells how a kid of 16 could live so
far from his family in such a dangerous workplace: a life that was practically
a dream, full of unknown pleasures–cinema, water sports…
“It was a great life because we didn’t
have to worry about meals. Our laundry was done on the ship. We were there to
get on with the work of the atomic bomb, but everything was done for us to make
sure we wouldn’t get bored. We were kept busy.”
Régis describes the bomb, as he saw it
from the ship he was based on at Moruroa, without forgetting all that was
forbidden… “As if you could stop a Polynesian from eating fish!”
Discrimination? “After a detonation,
the technicians from the CEA came with their equipment, gas masks, all covered
up in white suits, with boots and gloves, while the Polynesians and local
workers were in their sandals and shorts, longshoreman’s wear, with nothing
special. That was their work outfit.
Régis stayed only one year in Moruroa,
but he returned when he became a soldier and was sent there in 1977 for a
military mission. He witnessed the land collapsing after an underground
detonation, and the tsunami that followed it. “It was after this that the
legionnaires built a protective wall and installed security platforms.”
Régis’ father also worked at Moruroa.
He was ill, but he was hired anyway by the CEA in Mahina. His eczema got so bad
that they told him not to come back to work. He died finally of the cancer that
had been called “eczema.” Régis asks with resentment, “Why are such people who
worked for the bomb forgotten? He was in Muru, he got skin cancer, but it’s not
his fault, so whose fault is it? Is it because he breathed Polynesian air that
he got contaminated? Who brought this contamination here?
“I was 16 when I started to work at the
sites. I was a warehouseman. At that age, it was an adventure, but I also left
in order to send something to my grandmother because my grandfather had just
passed away. The hardest time was the evenings and the weekends, because you
miss your family at that age. But there everything was done to make sure no one
got bored. There were a lot of recreational activities: sailboarding, soccer, motorbikes,
cinema, picnics–like living in a chateau or something! A friend of mine was
stricken because he had eaten some fish. His skin fell off. He was admitted to
the infirmary, then after that no one knew where he went. But among us, we knew
how many sick ones there were. I have a lot of friends who have died. In 2002,
I came back from the army and I found two or three friends, but I was told the
others were all dead.”
iv. Chantal Spitz
Chantal Spitz described her first
experiences as a protester against nuclear testing: “When I came back home I
was always in trouble because it wasn’t acceptable behavior for the dominant
aristo-bourgeoisie.”
After having described the shadowy
connivance of a certain segment of Polynesian society with the colonial system,
the author sums up the pain of her people: “We have just lived through thirty
years so terrifying that I don’t know if we can ever restore ourselves again,
and what makes me afraid is that we are going to pass this pain on to our
children and grandchildren because they won’t have the tools to journey across
this history.
“Without the active participation of
local authorities, the French state could never have done what it did here. At
the same time, it is difficult to feel betrayed, betrayed by oneself. We
believe we were betrayed by others. Why wouldn’t we? But to have betrayed
oneself, that’s harder to face. I believe we can measure the poisons in the
environment, eventually. We take measurements, record a certain level of
radioactivity, see the dead coral. No problem. But how do we measure the
poisons in our minds and in our souls? We can’t measure them, and we can’t even
prevent ourselves from transmitting them to our children and grandchildren.”
Chantal Spitz finishes on a note of
pride. “But it was a great thing that we marched. It was–I don’t want to say
courageous–but we had to do it. We had to dare to do it.”
A message of hope and dignity addressed
to the younger generation?
v. Raymond Pia
v. Raymond Pia
Raymond
Pia started to work at the CEP in 1968, and continued until 1996 when he
retired. He was recruited by a sub-contractor, Sodetra, as a welder. Later he
worked various trades, but he worked for a long time as a welder on the barges
during the time of the aerial tests then during the underground tests. Raymond
described his working conditions: “I worked there for the money. Before I
signed my contract, they said nothing at all about the job involving risks.
They had us sign that we would absolutely never say anything about what we saw.
It was a state secret, and if we talked, we risked going to prison. But as for
other kinds of risk, no, they indicated absolutely nothing about such problems.
Raymond
describes more about what it was like. He wasn’t afraid at the time of a
detonation because he and his Polynesian colleagues were not informed about the
operations. “So we were there, and we didn’t worry much about what was going to
happen. We ignored everything. We built platforms six meters high for the
underground tests. The ground shook, and we saw the platform shake too. After
thirty seconds it stopped, and we stayed on the platform until our bosses gave us
the order to come down.”
“Today
I can say that the life of Tahitians has totally changed. Today they have great
difficulties because they have left their lands, their islands. They haven’t
planted anything for themselves. They ate what was easy and fast, and now they
are sick because of it.”
Six
years after he retired, he learned he was sick. He had to go to France, to
Villejuif, for radiotherapy. Raymond has one great concern: “My testimony is
for the generations to come. It is they who will suffer the consequences.
Today, it is obvious that there are many illnesses in Polynesia. In the past,
these were unheard of. We are in our sixties now, but the youth, their future?
It is too late. The damage is done. That’s my testimony.”
vi. Jaroslav Otcenasek
Jaroslav
Otcenasek worked from the first days of construction of the CEP installations
in Tahiti. “Before that, I was working a little and I earned 20 francs a week.
Working at the CEP, you could earn 140 francs per week. So you see the
difference. This is what destabilized everything. Everyone gave up fishing,
agriculture, raising animals. What you used to earn in three months could now
be earned in a week. Everyone gorged on this, but without knowing the dangers
that came with the bomb.”
Jaroslav
explains the consequences of this CEP gold rush: “Everyone ran to Papeete. In
the past we went there once a week or once a month just to buy necessities:
flour, sugar, etc. But when the CEP arrived, even people from the outer islands
swarmed to Papeete. There was one construction job after another. They left
their lands and their islands to crowd into the city. Nowadays, it’s very
difficult to get them to go back.”
Awareness of the dangers of the nuclear tests emerged slowly: “It took a certain number of years for us to start seeing our friends dying, or getting sick. It was always those who had worked on Moruroa or Fangataufa. When they came back, they were forbidden to speak about their work. If they talked, they got kicked out right away, and were never re-hired. So we believed the military was trying to hide something. But it took a long, long time. It was taboo to talk about it.” Jaroslav passes severe judgment on the period of the CEP: “For me, it was horrible because there was no benefit afterward. Now there are diseases and we have a troubled nation. I would like to say to young people: get up and fight until the day France recognizes what was done and apologizes for having harmed us. Then I will certainly be able to say I’m proud to be French.”
Awareness of the dangers of the nuclear tests emerged slowly: “It took a certain number of years for us to start seeing our friends dying, or getting sick. It was always those who had worked on Moruroa or Fangataufa. When they came back, they were forbidden to speak about their work. If they talked, they got kicked out right away, and were never re-hired. So we believed the military was trying to hide something. But it took a long, long time. It was taboo to talk about it.” Jaroslav passes severe judgment on the period of the CEP: “For me, it was horrible because there was no benefit afterward. Now there are diseases and we have a troubled nation. I would like to say to young people: get up and fight until the day France recognizes what was done and apologizes for having harmed us. Then I will certainly be able to say I’m proud to be French.”
vii. John Doom
Former Secretary General of the Maohi Protestant
Church
John
Doom had his first “experience” of the nuclear tests in 1963 when he was deacon
of the French parish in Papeete. Along with Pastor Jean Adnet he had learned
about the construction of the CEP, so they published a short article in the
parish journal asking for a commodo-incommodo*
public inquiry. Result: the pastor was banned from staying in Tahiti for more
than six months!
Three
years later, on July 2, 1966, John Doom found himself on the island of
Mangareva [near the test sites] working as an interpreter for the minister of France d’Outre-mer [French overseas
territories]. The history is well known. The Gambier Islands were heavily
contaminated by the fallout from the first bomb on Moruroa, after which
officials slipped away as fast as possible, leaving the local population uninformed.
Describing
these weapons on the national broadcaster [ORTF, Office de Radiodiffusion-Télévision Française], John recalls a
report he had to make to the authorities explaining why he had broadcast, after
a test, a message warning the inhabitants of the islands. As he was general
secretary of the protestant church, John tells of the internal conflicts that
existed because officially the church did not have a public position against
the tests until 1982, saying then they were not without harm.
But
since then, the opposition by the church has been strong and, since 1996, it
has been on the side of the victims and has supported Moruroa e tatou.
It
must be said that since 1989, John Doom has been Directeur du Bureau Pacifique du Conseil OEcuménique des Eglises à
Genève, a strategic post that facilitates the internationalization of the
struggle against the French nuclear tests.
“The
first nuclear test took place on July 2, 1966. It so happened that I was the
only functionary to have been authorized to accompany Minister Billotte,
elected officials of T’uamotu and an elected representative of the territory,
Mr. Gaston Flosse, who was originally from the Gambier Islands. So we left for
Moruroa then headed to Mangareva. On July 2nd, early in the morning, we went up
the mountain on Taku to see the mushroom cloud. I had to turn my back and put
my hands on my eyes, then wait for the word that it was alright to look. I have
to say I was disappointed because we had been told that there would be a
beautiful mushroom made up of various colors, but all I saw was a kind of
elongated cloud.”
“The
next day we had to have a great feast with the inhabitants to celebrate the
first detonation. But that night it rained, and the next day they told us we
had to leave right away. I learned later that the rain was radioactive, that we
had to leave, and that we had to say nothing about it. We left the inhabitants
in complete ignorance. And I think that was the first lie of the French
government because General Billotte, arriving in Papeete, held a press
conference and stated that everything had gone well.”
John
Doom is a pillar of the history of the opposition to the nuclear tests in
Polynesia, a role which makes him encourage the younger generation to get
involved: “The tests are over. That’s a fact, but we will live with the
consequences for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. It’s not something
that’s over and behind us. You, the young generations, you must get involved.
It is essential for the future of our people. Look around you. Ask questions to
your parents. There is no family in Polynesia that wasn’t affected. Get
together and concern yourselves with our future.”
* Commodo/incommodo authorizations define the development and
operating conditions deemed necessary to protect the environment and ensure the
safety of workers, the public and the neighborhood in general.
viii. Michel Arakino
Michel
Arakino was born on the Reao Atoll and grew up there. Today he lives in Tahiti.
Michel described his childhood memories: “It was fun for us, at the age of nine
or ten, during the time of the nuclear tests. We went into houses with
pressurized air to protect us from the fallout. But after the fallout passed,
we went out to big boats off the coast. It was fun because they gave us
candies, and they did medical checks on us. There were doctors there tracking
everyone and watching over us.”
After
his military service in France, Michel was hired by the army to work in the
Service Mixte de Contrôle Biologique
on Moruroa. “The Foreign Legion gathered soil from around the atoll and made a garden
plot. Scientists studied the uptake of radioactivity in this garden. We weren’t
protected as we should have been, but according to our supervisors there was no
risk. We harvested watermelons, melons, sweet potatoes, cucumbers... The
scientists said they were fine, and because they said so, we ate them. We put
the leftovers in salads.”
Michel
later became a diver, and he was tasked with taking water samples from the
surfaces of underground wells. “We measured radioactivity leaking from openings
made in the places where cables had been placed for the detonations. I wouldn’t
say it was minimal exposure. There was measurable leakage in a zone 500 meters
in diameter.”
Michel
also related all the pressure put on him from the military and political sphere
when he decided to join the citizens’ group Moruroa
e tatou.
“From
1981 to 1996 I was a diver at Moruroa. My work consisted of taking biological
samples from around the zones and in the zones where the detonations had
occurred. At the first meeting of Moruroa
e tatou, I came just to listen and tell my bosses what they were saying,
but then I was especially struck by Dr. Sue Roff. I was sitting in the front
row watching this woman explain the effects of radioactivity. Everything she
said concerned me directly. I was the positive control organism in this
experiment, and that’s when I realized what I was passing down to my children.
That’s when I started asking questions to the authorities, and they quickly became
hostile. What should I say? It was like we were no longer friends. The
relationship was tarnished because I was asking too many questions about the
state of my health.”
Note: Bruno
Barrillot and John Doom both passed away in the latter months of 2016.
Part 4
Transcript of a video
interview with Bruno Barrillot on the Witnesses
of the Bomb project (video in French with English
subtitles), translation by Dennis Riches
The question “Was Polynesia contaminated?” is not a question
for the present. It’s a certainty about what happened during the time of
nuclear tests in the atmosphere. All of Polynesia was showered with radioactive
fallout. There is no doubt about that. They even admit it. But they say, “For
sure it was admissible. The norms of the time permitted it.” That’s the
nonsense they tell us today.
When we demanded the opening of the archives of the
classified files under the new law of two years ago, they found there were a
few documents missing from the years 1966-67. What can be seen in these files
stamped classified for national security? We see records of meetings of
military authorities, the highest authorities, including the director and the
high commissioner of the CEA [Commissariat à l’énergie atomique],
professor Rocard, the so-called father of the French bomb. They were all there
around a table in Paris saying “Alright, we’re going to do tests in French
Polynesia. We will still have to be sure that there is no contamination of the
population of Tureia and Mangareva because the people there are genetically
fragile.”
So they knew. It’s written there in black and white! All
those people there were visiting during the time of the tests saying they came
to admire les vahines* of Mangareva or Tureia. They went to see the
nature and the little flowers and said how lovely it was. They came acting in
friendship to these people when they knew very well that their bombs were going
to, shall we say, disrupt their health and the very life of these small,
defenseless populations.
Sure, it’s in the past. It was especially bad in the time of
the atmospheric tests, but how can we measure the consequences for the present?
It’s in the health of the Polynesians. How many women and young Polynesians
have been diagnosed with thyroid cancer among those who were children at the
time of the atmospheric tests? I’m not saying every problem was caused by the
nuclear tests. For sure there are many other possibilities that are related to
modern lifestyles that came from the money brought by the nuclear tests, but we
can still state that the nuclear tests had an impact on the serious problems in
public health that exist here with, for example, the high rate of cancer and
cardiovascular diseases.
This is taught. It is known, for example, from what happened
in the Marshall Islands, what international specialists knew about illnesses
caused by radiation. We know. We know it today. We know that it is not only
cancers that come from contact with ionizing radiation. There are also many cardiovascular
diseases. And genes are affected too. So this is known–officially. In fact, all
this was known in the 1950s. The Americans had published studies on the
survivors of Hiroshima, and on the first tests in the Marshall Islands.
In 1957-58, among the scientific community there was a sort
of outcry. There were symposia of Nobel prize physicians throughout the Western
world which said to the nuclear powers, the United States and the Soviet Union,
stop atmospheric testing. And there were often more than one hundred parents
among them. They were endangering the health of all humanity and so both the
Soviet Union and the United States decided to stop the tests in October 1959: a
moratorium.** And France began tests in 1960, but everything was known at the
time. Everything was known.
And so today when some want to make excuses, and even when
some Polynesian interlocutors, perhaps good Christians say, “OK, listen to the
military people. When they came they didn’t know everything about
radioactivity.” Not true. They knew everything. They knew all about it. So, to
be quite frank, I think there is absolutely no excuse. For a country the only
reason that it has for nuclear tests is reasons of state. People: they matter
very little. Workers, military personnel engaged in the process of conducting
tests: they matter very little. It is reasons of state that matter.
* Vahine simply means woman in Polynesian, but
the term is loaded with connotations of exoticism and mythical fantasies about
the women of the islands, projected onto them by men who came from the outside
world. As such, it could be considered as an example of Orientalism as
theorized by Edward Said. When vahine
is used by outsiders as a borrowed word in French or other languages, it takes
on patronizing perceptions and fictional Western depictions of "The East."
** The date given may be wrong.
According to the table in Wikipedia’s Nuclear weapons testing page: “USA
agrees; ban begins on 31 October 1958, 3 November 1958 for the Soviets, and
lasts until abrogated by a USSR test on 1 September 1961.”
Notes
[1] "50 ans de mensonges cela suffit !" Tahiti Nui Télévision,
June 28, 2016,
[2] Stéphane de Sakutin, “Hollande acknowledges ‘consequences’ of
nuclear tests on Polynesia trip,” AFP and France24, February 23, 2016,
http://www.france24.com/en/20160222-hollande-address-nuclear-test-victims-polynesia-trip
http://www.france24.com/en/20160222-hollande-address-nuclear-test-victims-polynesia-trip
[3] “Temaru dénonce les
élus « vendus de notre pays »,”
Radio 1 Tahiti, June 27, 2016,
[4] Témoins de la bombe, Les éditions Univers
Polynésiens, 2013,
http://www.assemblee.pf/_documents/actualites_documents/livret_temoins_bombe.pdf
