Linked Arms: A Rural Community Resists Nuclear Waste

Preface

Preface IN A RURAL COUNTY IN western New York, seventy miles south of Rochester, ordinary men and women not only kept a major nuclear dump out of their area, but also provided a model of resistance for communities across the United States. Merchants, teachers, homemakers, farmers, and blue collar workers ignored potential jail terms and large fines to challenge the nuclear industry and the government.The events in this story transformed common folks into extraordinary individuals, many of whom temporarily gave up their personal lives for the welfare of their community. When New York State’s siting commission said that Allegany County would be a good place for low level nuclear waste, men and women asked questions. Some answers troubled them; others horrified them. “What is low level nuclear waste?” The siting commission said it was not too dangerous—just things such as booties and gloves that workers wore inside nuclear power plants; or needles and test tubes that doctors used to treat cancer patients; or petri dishes and irradiated animals used by researchers in colleges and universities. That was only part of the story, Marvin Resnikoff, a prominent nuclear physicist, told Stuart Campbell, a founder of the resistance movement in Allegany County. “Low level” waste included almost everything except for spent fuel rods, the casing around the reactor’s core, and tailings from uranium mining . It did include, however, the irradiated metal clamps that hold the plutonium fuel rods in place in the core of nuclear reactors. Some of the material was so “hot” that it would kill anyone exposed to it for more than a few minutes ; some had such long half-lives that it would remain dangerous for hundreds of thousands of years. This question led to many others. “How can you choose the best site if you don’t know how you’re going to store the waste?”“Will you incinerate xi SUNY_Pet_chFM.qxd 9/13/01 1:58 PM Page xi waste at the facility?”“What is the half-life of the cement that will encase the nuclear waste?”“How dangerous is exposure to low doses of radiation?” Questions exceeded answers. People began reading about the routine failures of storing nuclear waste throughout the United States. The technicians, they read, always wrapped themselves in the mantle of expertise, assuring concerned citizens that “professionals knew best.” Dismissing public concern as naive and ignorant, the experts had, in fact, made disastrous mistakes—then lied about them.Was it reasonable to think that these NewYork State commissioners had better solutions for handling nuclear waste than had their colleagues at Hanford,WestValley, Fernauld, Oak Ridge, and Rocky Flats? The past tragedies of nuclear storage and the callousness of the experts who had ignored people’s safety and health shocked the folks in Allegany County. Many wondered, however, whether a county that had no economic or political clout could defy the Empire State. Others joined together to form a movement that would contest the methodology of the siting commission, the statutes of NewYork, the short-term economic motivations of the nuclear industry, and the policies of the federal government. The citizens hired a lawyer who challenged the congressional law and persuaded the governor to file a lawsuit against the federal government that eventually went all the way to the Supreme Court.They enlisted a preeminent nuclear physicist who convinced the governor that the classification of nuclear waste was bogus.They shattered the glib assurances of the siting commission. Most importantly, not content to question authority, they defied it. Five times over a twelve-month period they linked arms, stood in the bitter cold, and defeated the siting commission through civil disobedience. Hundreds of people, who had never before broken the law, refused to let the siting commission with its multimillion dollar budget get onto the land. They refused to move when scores of state troopers ordered them to open up the roads.They defied a judge who threatened to fine them thousands of dollars and toss them into jail for six months. These folks were optimists. They were also naive, believing they could persuade federal authorities to re-think their failed strategies for classifying and storing nuclear waste. But they were not lazy. These citizens sent out emissaries to other communities where authorities were trying to build nuclear dumps—in Nebraska, Connecticut, Michigan, Illinois, North Carolina, California—telling the story of Allegany County’s defiance. “Resist!” they said. “Don’t cooperate with those who want to put a nuclear waste...