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Other people
keep pictures of their children in their wallets. I keep a small
map I've had laminated to protect it from wear. I pull that map
out during many conversations to show how far and wide fallout from
nuclear testing was scattered. People are always shocked when they
see it. Utah and Nevada are almost completely blacked out, and the
black ink spreads as far north as Canada and as far east as New
York, with heavy patches scattered throughout the country. Most
Americans, even most Utahns, mistakenly think radioactive fallout
affected only Southern Utah. Radiation isn't a respecter of arbitrary
lines on a map. There is no magic shield that stopped it mid-point
in Utah. The wind carried it across the country. That's how it got
to Nebraska, Missouri , Iowa and other states where it put millions
of Americans at risk of cancer and other fallout-related illnesses.
The map in my wallet speaks volumes.
The map, from Richard Miller's book, Under the Cloud: The Decades
of Nuclear Testing, shows where fallout went during the 12 years
of above ground nuclear weapons testing from 1951 to 1962. Miller
calls his map a "connect the dots" of all points in the
United States that were crossed by three or more trajectories of
fallout. The map doesn't include the fallout from the three decades
of underground testing that ended only in 1993. According to Miller,
"there is no such thing as a test that is totally underground"
since so many of those tests leaked. Baneberry, an infamous 1970
test, for instance, ejected fallout 8,000 feet into the air and
went on for hours. Radioactive debris from another underground test
showed up in southeastern Georgia.
Miller, who has recently published a five-volume compendium of
fallout data, The U.S. Atlas of Nuclear Fallout, has compiled
and analyzed more data on the radioactive fallout that blanketed
America than any other researcher. He and other internationally
renowned experts, including Helen Caldicott, was in Salt Lake City
for "The Nuclear West: Legacy and Future," the eighth
annual Stegner Center Symposium at the University of Utah College
of Law.
The implications of his work are enormous. In his fallout atlas,
he correlates fallout levels with cancer levels, county-by-county
across the United States. "If someone lives in Peoria or in
Washington state, I want them to know the history of their county
in terms of fallout," he says. "It's part of their history."
Norman Solomon, co-author of Killing our Own: The Disaster of
America's Experience with Atomic Radiation, writes that the
nationwide statistics in Miller's atlas "make us think exactly
where we or our loved ones were at the time each diffuse radioactive
cloud scattered its hazardous debris."
Miller first became interested in fallout in the 1970s while working
with OSHA. In 1974, he found pockets of cancer in Valley, Nebraska
and a string of cancers in northern Missouri, a place that was notorious
for high cancer rates. "I talked OSHA into getting outside
the box and looking at these things because I wondered if there
could be an occupational component, but I never did find anything
work-related."
When the National Cancer Institute came out with its model of fallout
in October of 1997, Miller discovered that there were hot spots
all across America, including an amazing hot spot in southern Iowa
and northern Missouri, where he had, years before, found the high
incidence of cancers.
In the late 1970s, he and others in the OSHA office where he worked
began finding high incidences of brain cancer at a site in Texas
near chemical plants. As they were looking for causes, one team
member, a physician with the National Institute for Occupational
Safety and Health, jokingly suggested it could be fallout from nuclear
tests. "I got to thinking about it and said that no one knows
where those fallout tracks went," he says.
Using data collected by the old Atomic Energy Commission, the Defense
Nuclear Agency and the U.S. Weather Service, Miller began doing
the research. In 1986, Macmillan published his book, Under the Cloud,
charting all the fallout tracks.
When the 1997 NCI study came out showing the trajectory of fall-out
at 103 points across the Unvited States, Miller was sure it would
create a major uproar, but surprisingly, not much came of the report.
Nor did people pay attention when the NCI Journal soon after published
an article showing a statistically significant link between thyroid
cancer and fallout.
"The NCI study was a little complicated," he says, noting
that it was so extensive that it had to be published on the Internet
instead of by conventional means. "Not many people downloaded
it," he says. " I was one of those people bone-headed
enough to take the NCI data and do the calculations."
Miller crunched the data over a period of several years and published
his findings in 2000 as The U.S. Atlas of Nuclear Fallout. "There
were hot spots all across the country, not only for Iodine-131 which
is linked to thyroid cancer, but for a variety of other radionuclides
and radioisotopes associated with fallout."
As part of his analysis, Miller compared the data against the Center
for Disease Control "Wonder Database," which assigns a
disease an International Disease Classification code and shows what
the rates of that disease are for every county in the U.S. from
1979 on.
Miller took about 25 different types of radiation-induced cancers
and correlated them with fallout levels for the entire United States.
His findings show an association between fallout levels and cancer
rates, but he is careful to note, this does not prove causation.
"However," he says, "the statistics suggest that
the chance that these are random associations is very, very small
- far less than one in a hundred. Given the numbers, it's clear
that further research is necessary."
Unfortunately, in February, the National Academies of Science called
for an end to any more study of cancer risk associated with fallout,
claiming that further research wasn't needed and saying that "neither
data nor consequences justify a more detailed study." Says
Miller, "They've said it's not worth the time. Of course, I
don't agree with that assessment."
Further studies could get far more specific than the 1997 NCI study.
"The NCI study could be evaluated using tools and techniques
that have been around for 20 years or more," he says. "Since
fallout likely ended up in ponds and low areas, you could go to
where we know fallout came down, sink a core into a pond, bring
up the material and analyze it for radioisotopes."
Now, here's where it gets interesting. Miller says, that in theory,
you can actually pinpoint which nuclear test was responsible for
fallout in a specific area by looking at the ratios between the
radioactive isotopes found there. These ratios have been published
and available since the early 1980s, courtesy of University of California
researcher Harry G. Hicks. In fact, Miller used Hick's research
data - known in the health physics community as the Hicks Table
- to estimate total fallout as well as 66 individual fallout isotopes
from the NCI's radio-iodine data. These values form the core of
the U.S. Fallout Atlas series.
"The point I'm making is that, while the analyses procedures
are slow and cumbersome, the derived information is not particularly
complex, and the means to evaluate the NCI study is almost low-tech,"
he says. "From every perspective, it's a feasible study. If
the government decides not to follow this up, it would be a huge
waste of he NCI's work. While I somewhat enjoy having the only book
series with this kind of detail, I think that science and the public
would be better served with a formal government evaluation of nuclear
fallout."
The implications of Miller's work, contained in his five volume
atlas, are huge. If a link exists between some of the radionuclides
and certain types of cancers, physicians across the country could
use that information as an important diagnostic tool. They could
ask patients where they grew up and where they've lived. If a patient
lived in an area that got hit with high levels of Cobalt 60, for
instance, a physician might want to consider looking at female colon
cancer, which seems to be highly correlated with Cobalt 60 deposits.
So far, he's had no luck convincing Congress to continue such studies.
"I would think that some senators and representatives would
look at their own families and the people they know and love who
have cancer and want to study this more, " says Miller. "I
would think they owe it to their constituency."
Atomic weapons testing was a very unique period of history, and
everyone's backyard was a part of that history. "It's a technohistory
that we've ignored," he says.
Not only have we ignored that chapter of our past, but we don't
seem to have learned anything from the human toll of nuclear weapons
testing. In fact, the Bush administration is making noise about
starting up nuclear testing again. "That's probably going to
happen," says Miller. "At some point - perhaps during
the so-called bunker-buster tests - I would not be surprised to
see what in effect will be above ground nuclear testing. Some of
these things are supposed to have 300-kiloton warheads. There is
no way a device like that can be field tested without producing
a huge debris cloud."
Given what he knows, isn't Miller tempted to become an activist?
"You know," he says, "I followed my first book on
nuclear testing with a novel, The Atomic Express. In it I
included everything I knew about the military, about nuclear weapons,
the 1950s, and everything else. In that book I projected what some
might suggest is a negative view of the Atomic Energy Commission.
If someone wants my personal opinion about the bomb, they can read
that. But research for the Fallout Atlas was different. For that
research I was just trying to learn something new. That was my only
stake in the data. I always got a kick out of seeing those statistical
results for the first time. There for a while, it was at least one
surprise a day. Just being able to parse the data was enough for
me. I always say the data should speak for itself. Look at the data."
Miller's data, indeed, makes a powerful case. Just look at the
map. It speaks volumes.
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