No more Hiroshimas

Seventy years ago on this day, as the city of Hiroshima went about its work, the US dropped an atomic bomb over the city, destroying the lives of people in the region and altering human understanding of violence forever. This week, on the 70th anniversary of the horrific act that was repeated within three days in Nagasaki, you will read a hundred descriptions of what happened and the kind of damage it caused.

Hiroshima is like a giant peace park, with the message ‘No more Hiroshimas’ repeated over and over again. Monuments to every person killed or maimed that morning litter the heart of the city, the park behind the A-bomb Dome, the building over which the bomb actually fell. The Peace Museum houses photographs of the bombing, the short-term and long-term damage. If this does not make enough of an impression, the stunning Hiroshima Panels painted by Iri and Toshi Maruki bring home the enduring pain of the experience.

In these 70 years, we have looked at nuclear power with ambivalence, seeking the energy it can deliver — efficiently if things work according to the book — but fearing the consequences that human error (or natural disasters) can bring about. The shadow of Hiroshima, joined now by the memory of Chernobyl and Fukushima, lingers even though nuclear advocates point out that many other reactors function safely.

There are several common arguments made in favour of nuclear energy. The first is that it is able to deliver efficiently and on the scale that countries like India need, without depleting natural resources. Moreover, it is considered clean and does not produce pollutants, unlike burning coal or bio-gas. Another perceived advantage lies in its potential for weapons production. Nuclear power and nuclear production are part of the inexorable march of science. I have heard all these arguments over the years, and there is merit in them, no doubt. Nuclear advocates, like opponents, truly believe what they say and have arrived at their conclusions thoughtfully.

For protestors in Jaitapur and Kudankulam (and elsewhere), nuclear power does not look as attractive. They have questions about environmental and livelihood consequences, and are also concerned that the plant will draw away local resources from the community. Safety is a very real source of anxiety, because after Fukushima, people have seen for themselves (on television) the consequences of a nuclear accident. In Kudankulam, the post-tsunami settlement colony is right on the peripheral walls of the reactor. It is natural that those living there would worry about their health and that of their children. Stories from India’s other reactors do not inspire confidence. Those who oppose nuclear power (we are not yet talking about nuclear weapons) are not doing so out of cussedness or because they oppose all technology or modernity; they are expressing genuine anxiety about their lives, land and livelihood.

The problem with nuclear power however goes beyond these specific concerns, in my view. The problem is actually that nuclear policy in India is shrouded in secrecy. It is said that when an issue is securitised, it draws greater attention and resources, but the trade-off is that it is taken out of the public realm. Secrecy, limited access and curtailment of civil rights follow. Technical experts and security personnel monopolise information, access and decision-making. Of all areas of policy-making, this is the least democratic.

Decisions are made without public discussion. This is, of course, also true of more mundane areas such as pavement repair and cutting down of trees, but their consequences are less dire. Deals are signed in secrecy and made public later so that no one can ask questions along the way. Plans are not plans, but decisions presented as a fait accompli. When these plans involve planting a nuclear power plant in your neighbourhood, there will and should be questions about them.

A questioning public—or people’s movement—is regarded as a suspicious obstacle rather than people with a right to engage. Petitions and requests for information do not yield the kind of exchange of views and information that would allow both sides to understand each other. Reports are rarely placed in the public domain, and information is largely shared on a “Trust us, we know best” note. 

When the questioning escalates to protests, the security imperative kicks in. The entire array of coercive measures come to be deployed—from regulations about assembly to funding investigations to charging protestors with sedition. The rest of the public thinks, “There is no smoke without fire.” While the protestors respond to the allegations, the project gets underway. The right of the affected community to information and accountability is simply collateral damage.

It is possible that given a transparent process and a responsive dialogue, either those raising questions would be convinced of the project’s validity, viability and safety, or that the government would take on board their concerns and seriously address them, or the two would arrive at a third, mutually acceptable solution. We never know, because dialogue is always the missing piece.

What about nuclear weapons? After all, it was not a nuclear power plant that exploded in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Nuclear weapons are supposed to work as a deterrent to conflict. They are supposed to level the playing field between countries which is a temptation for weaker countries in a conflict relationship. Nuclear weapons create prestige. But do nuclear weapons keep anyone safe from conflict? They might freeze a particular conflict situation, but they do not eliminate others, nor diminish the prospects of internal conflict or terror attacks. Asking whose agenda is served by disarmament is a red herring, it may be more worthwhile to ask whose agenda is served by nuclear weapons.

There are two other points I want to make. The first is that in the 70 years since Hiroshima and Nagasaki, we have not seriously invested in finding viable alternative, renewable energy sources. If we have found them, we have not promoted them to the point where the conversation about nuclear power is unnecessary. The second is that we, consumers, are also at fault. While there are many who go without electricity and water-pumps (or factories), there are others whose addiction to electrical appliances is growing unabated. Together, we illustrate Gandhi’s words: Enough for everyone’s need, but not for everyone’s greed.

On a sculpture at the Hiroshima Peace Museum are inscribed words from Pope John Paul II’s 1981 visit:
“War is the work of man.
War is destruction of human life.
War is death.
To remember the past is to commit oneself to the future. 
To remember Hiroshima is to abhor nuclear war. 
To remember Hiroshima is to commit oneself to peace."
 
“No more Hiroshimas.” The words that echo throughout the Hiroshima Peace Park are tragically, still salient today. Renewing that pledge on this 70th anniversary of the first time atomic weapons were used could mean several small resolutions today. We could start by cutting our consumption of electricity. We could try and find out more about alternative sources—like solar invertors—that we could adopt. Small measures add up! We could also acknowledge that when people raise questions about nuclear power, it is a valid activity and a democratic right. We could pay attention to their questions and help them hold the government accountable for answers. This is everybody’s problem — actually, both power shortages and democratic deficits are. And everybody has a responsibility for finding solutions.
 
No more Hiroshimas. Or Chernobyls. Or Fukushimas. Just transparency, straight answers and dialogue, please.

The author is trained as a political scientist.