Search results

In this chapter we explore some of the intriguing questions raised by contaminated communities. Is there a connection between exposure to environmental hazards and psychological distress? If yes, how best can it be measured? What kinds of psychological problems are aggravated by this kind of life stress? How do we know that victims are truly experiencing increased problems such as anxiety, depression and fears about their health?

This chapter analyses conditions under which residents of a small Russian town accept the concepts “pollution” and “ecological risk.” The town in question is Sokol in the Vologda oblast of the Russian Federation, where there are two pulp and paper mills and other forest industries. Sokol is a typical small town with a population of about 40,000. The pulp and paper mills are locally run. The issues surrounding Sokol's pulp and paper mills generally present a typical Russian picture (Kuliasova & Kuliasov, 2002a, 2002b) with one major exception. Industrialization in Sokol goes back more than a century and thus reflects the broader history of the 20th century.

In this chapter we will look at some of the consequences of a sequence of nuclear disasters that occurred in the Southern Ural region of Russia beginning in the 1940s. Drawing upon the historical record, we document the steady increase in radiological contamination that resulted from a combination of accidents and a nuclear naivete that took nearly 60 years to outgrow. We will then analyze the dynamics of response to this contamination and health catastrophe. We will look at the population's reaction over the years, as well as the government's policy, or lack thereof, toward containing pollution, improving safety management, and protecting the health and environmental rights of the region's citizens. We will also compare the coping mechanisms of two different Russian cultures – that under the Soviet regime and that after perestroika – as a young democracy. Finally, we will examine the effects of social movements and community action, issues of community conflict, and the phenomenon of ecodisaster tourism.¹

The City of New York was suddenly and deliberately attacked on September 11, 2001, killing thousands of people and leaving unbelievable destruction. Thirty-eight buildings and structures were destroyed or damaged, including seven buildings in the World Trade Center site completely leveled. Almost five years later, two very large contaminated buildings, Deutsche Bank at 130 Liberty Street and Fiterman Hall of Borough of Manhattan Community College, have yet to be cleaned up and demolished. Some 30 million square feet of commercial space was lost. Transportation was disrupted, including the loss of the World Trade Center PATH station, the 1/9 subway line and portions of Route 9A and Church Street. Cars were not allowed south of Canal Street for a week. For Americans this was a terrorist attack and a crime. It was a time for mourning losses and responding to disaster. There was the shock that something like this could happen. And there was more. The destruction of the WTC also posed competing environmental, economic and social threats.

In the United States, nearly 50,000 pounds of waste per person is produced annually, for a total of approximately 6 billion tons of waste, one ton for each person living on the planet Earth. But not all wastes are created equal. U.S. businesses generate some 100 pounds of toxic and hazardous waste per day for every American resident. The impacts of municipal solid waste combine with the legacy of toxins released through pre-production, industrial production, transportation, releases and spills, direct use, byproduct wastes, and end use wastes.

In 1990, testing revealed the existence of benzene in the municipal water supply of a community named Three Lakes, a residential subdivision of Houston, Texas. The water was quickly changed to a clean supply, but residents were not notified that there had been a problem until five months later. This provoked much anger within the community, along with concerns over present and future health problems. A grassroots group formed in response to this problem, but lasted only one year. The failure of this social movement organization left community residents to fend for themselves. In the words of one resident, the community reacted “like someone stepping on an anthill – everyone running in different directions.”

The post-Cold War period allowed the U.S. nuclear legacy of ecocide to be declassified and made public. The policy of nuclear secrecy, evident in Russia (see Mironova et al., this volume), was not merely an eastern practice. Western nuclear releases were kept equally under wraps. In England, for example, the Windscale disaster was not fully disclosed until 1987.¹ Likewise, releases from the Hanford Nuclear Reservation, in Washington State, and other U.S. nuclear sites were kept undercover until the same period. The irony was that Americans learned of many of the nuclear skeletons in their closet around the time that Russians learned of theirs (see Mironova et al., this volume). It would appear that glasnost was contagious.

The Ural Mountain region is a remarkably beautiful landscape of forests and lakes. Here is the continental divide between Europe and Asia. One of the rivers originating here to eventually feed feeding the Artic Sea is the Techa river. But the verdant greenery that characterizes the region does not disclose the hidden dangers of plutonium and other radioactive materials either downstream or downwind of the Mayak Nuclear Complex. Major areas of the Techa river corridor and downwind areas were permanently evacuated after radioactive releases from the Mayak Nuclear Complex from the 1950s through the 1970s. Although acute and chronic water releases encompass this period, the so-called Kyshtim 57 accident, an air release from Mayak in 1957, was the word's worst nuclear accident until surpassed by Chernobyl (see Mironova et al. and Kutepova and Tsepilova, this volume). But what of the inhabitants who remain? In this chapter, we explore some of the psycho-social impacts of living in contaminated areas, drawing primarily upon interviews with residents of the region. In doing this, we give voice to their perspective and views on each other and life in this contaminated region.¹