Australia’s Atomic Past

I ask in this article whether the legacies of Australia’s nuclear past, including the great secrecy surrounding testing of weapons in the 1950s and 1960s, and subsequent clean-ups, have impacted in particular ways that have ongoing ramifications for policy relating to uranium mining and nuclear energy. My starting point is the sustained examination of the pros and cons of developing the nuclear fuel cycle in Australia, a Parliamentary Committee Inquiry from 2006. Contrasting the submissions and discussions of this committee with exhibition and educational materials relating to the legacies of atomic testing, I suggest that one of the biggest opportunities for constructive policy conversation on nuclear energy suffered from the absence of trust among different groups. This derived, in good measure, from distinctive features in popular remembering of Australia’s atomic past. In 2006, it fed the exasperation of nuclear advocates who did not, and perhaps still do not, appreciate that the neat separation of uranium mining and energy generation from Australia’s earlier encounters with the atom is very hard. Relatedly, I argue that the secrecy around governments’ involvement in atomic testing, and its legacies, is likely to be seized on regularly; and likely to sustain what is a reservoir of public mistrust of government policy.

Nuclear Conditioning

Nevada’s Atomic Testing Site hosted nuclear atmospheric tests from the late 1940s to the early 1960s and doubled as both an outdoor laboratory and a film studio. Here, worlds meant to resemble small American towns in every detail were built and obliterated by nuclear explosions, giving rise to thousands of nuclear test films. Cinema transforms explosions into aesthetic experiences, turns the chaos of fallout into comprehensible narratives, and trains viewers to survive or endure the culture of nuclearism. Cinema naturalizes this regime that leaves a stratigraphic signature in the planet’s geological record, a signal so pronounced that geologists propose that the Anthropocene began in 1945 with the first atomic test. The chapter concludes with consideration of “Project Plowshare,” a proposed program to use atomic bombs for “geological engineering.” Operation Plowshare targets the earth’s “unfriendly terrain” to make it useful and welcoming to human development and global commerce.

Continuing the Cold War tradition and suppressing contemporary dissent

The Defence Special Undertakings Act 1952 (Cth) is a draconian piece of Cold War legislation originally passed to provide security for British atomic testing in Australia. There are only two known prosecutions under the Act, both involving Christian pacifists entering the Pine Gap prohibited area. In 2007, the first ever convictions under the Act were overturned on appeal. A second prosecution has now commenced. This article considers the history and context of the current prosecutions and contends that the Act is being used to suppress contemporary dissent in a period in which the Australian government already faces criticism of its treatment of the right to protest.

Annie and the Shaman: Exploring Data via Provocative Artifacts

Designed as a “provocative artifact,” the multimedia piece Annie and the Shaman raises questions about how information is collected, archived and employed. The work connects two contexts with notable data histories: Nevada’s aboveground atomic testing and its Basin and Range region. To highlight an empirical engagement with location, audio and visual data from the famous 1953 Annie test was visually integrated into a relevant context on location, rather than composing visuals post hoc. The project proposes onsite data visualizations as a method to encourage researcher and public engagement, especially when original data and process information is included with the exhibit.