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How are identified instances of contamination addressed, assuming they have been identified and disclosed? The U.S. has evolved an activist ethos with regard to contamination – both in terms of identifying it and, in the case of identified contamination, taking some engineering action to remediate the hazard. In Chapter 13, A Grassroots Perspective on the Brownfields and Superfund Programs, veteran New Jersey grassroots leader Madelyn Hoffman offers a thorough review of the Superfund program that, since 1980s, has guided U.S. cleanup of sites identified as contaminated at a threshold demanding remediation. She provides a detailed overview of the process identifying the problem and for developing and comparing alternative approaches for remediation. Public involvement is integral to this process, as is the assessment of health risks for local populations. Hoffman also describes the more recent process of Brownfields remediation added as an adjunct to Superfund to more speedily return contaminated lands to productive use. If Superfund has been the subject of political opposition for its regulations, costs and for tying up property, Brownfields offers the political remedy by streamlining cleanup in order to foster reuse. The downside of this streamlined mitigation, however, as Hoffman stresses, may be the sacrifice in the quality of restoring the contaminated land, leading to future toxic exposures. Finally, throughout her discussion, Hoffman stresses the vital role of the grassroots network of organizations in the U.S. that “watchdog” local environments. Under the leadership of Lois Marie Gibbs, this grassroots network has become a force fighting for environmental cleanup and supporting newly discovered contaminated communities as they grapple with the attendant issues. In this view, it is the combination of laws and regulations and political will with an active level of citizen oversight and participation that makes the environmental cleanup process work.

Volgograd, Russia, my home for most of my life, was entirely rebuilt after World War II. Under its prior name, Stalingrad, the city was the epicenter for what many believe was the most crucial battle in the entire war. That battle came at the cost of many millions dead and wounded and the destruction of all but one shell of a building. From this oblivion, a new city arose under the direct order of Stalin, who mobilized captured German engineers for the task. Following his concept of planning, the city would be long and narrow, hugging the banks of the mighty Volga River for some 80km. The width would involve only two main thoroughfares with side streets. The narrow profile would allow for farms and dachas to be close by on one side and the river on the other, providing bounteous and accessible food. Residences were organized in neighborhoods formed around key enterprises lining the river to meet their needs for water. The neighborhood designs allowed workers to easily walk to work. It was a truly utopian scheme.

In the cold war era, perhaps there were no greater heroes of the Soviet Union than the as many as 700,000 firefighters, workers, and military personnel who fought the blazing fires at the Chernobyl nuclear reactor that burned out of control for months until smothered by a makeshift concrete structure, called the “sarcophagus” built to contain radioactive releases. Whether this sarcophagus will last as long as the Egyptian monuments, its name evokes has been a matter of grave continuing concern. And it is doubtful that its symbolism as a lasting evidence of 20th century life will be equally appreciated through the ages. But in April 26, 1986, northern Europe had been placed in dire peril by the catastrophic accident in the number 4 reactor at Chernobyl. Smoke pouring from the fires lofted high in the sky to carry radioactive contaminants eventually across the Northern Hemisphere. Some 100 million curies of radiation were released within 10 days of the initial explosion, comprising the word's worst civilian radiation release (Lawrence Livermore, 1999). And, the reactor threatened to unleash a nuclear explosion that would have dwarfed the effects of what already was the world's worst nuclear accident. The situation demanded extreme sacrifice (see also Zykova, this volume).

What can we learn about cultures of contamination from our comparison of Russia and the United States? Three final chapters offer some perspective.

In a seminal essay, Mumford (1963) argued that society is forced to adapt to the demands of the technological systems it chooses. He distinguished between what he called “Authoritarian” and “Democratic” technics. Societies choosing the former path select technological and energy systems that are high risk and therefore demand authoritarian, centralized, secretive and closed social controls. In contrast, the second low-risk path allows for decentralized, open, participatory and democratic control. The two directions, and thus the resulting social forms, could not be more contradictory.¹ Democratic technics, not Authoritarian, are necessary for a sustainable future.

The chapter compares the factors involved in environmental altruism, the willingness to involve oneself in working for environmental and ecological goals, in Russia and the United States. The lead authors developed the idea for the research from their participation in the grant from the Trust for Mutual Understanding, examining how Russia and the United States deal with contamination in their communities. We were the only clinical psychologists in the group that toured in Russia, and we both taught young people at universities, sometimes in courses that dealt specifically about the environment, but more usually in courses that helped prepare them for their roles as psychologists. Because of our clinical perspective, we had several discussions about the role of the individual in dealing with the environment. The role of the individual is particularly critical to environmental issues in Russia. Although Russia has even more strict environmental laws than the United States, its level of enforcement has been minimal. At the same time, environmental activism is a relatively new phenomenon there and it faces cultural and social barriers. While activism plays a major role in the United States to keep the system functioning, efforts to deal with contamination in the United States generally occur on a political and legal level in the context of creating and enforcing laws. While the U.S. activists are hardly satisfied with the system's functioning, a greater level of creativity and commitment is needed from Russian environmental activists to help the nation even reach this level of routine enforcement of environmental laws.

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 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

This paper is about some of my experiences as a sociologist, doing research at the Love Canal. The Love Canal remains an important story, because it aroused the consciousness of the world to the human and social consequences of environmental pollution. As an indication of continuing interest in that area, the 25th anniversary ceremonies at the site, early in August 2003, were well attended and publicized nationally by the mass media.