Gotowa bibliografia na temat „Nuclear colonialism”

The article describes nuclear test sites in the countries of the world. The authors focus on a brief history of nuclear test sites. In particular, the article considers the Semey nuclear test site in Kazakhstan, which operated under the “secret” designation. Its history tells about the “special relations” between the representatives of the military industry, who completely controlled the nuclear test site, and the local residents of the test site areas. According to the authors, this is a clear manifestation of the policies of tyranny, “military colonialism”, and “nuclear colonialism” carried out by Moscow on the Kazakh land. Various data and scientific studies showthat the social, ecological, and economic consequences of nuclear tests, as well as ways to deal with them, have survived to the present day. Even at that time, despite the “secret” label, it provided information about the danger of radiation spread from the Semey nuclear test site. The results of the “secret” monitoring of the local population’s health are reported. To reveal the content of the article, the authors were guided by the method of objective position, general scientific, and special methods of methodology

Background: In Canada, actors in industry, government, and civil society have proposed small modular reactors as a technological solution to climate change. Analysis: A quantitative and qualitative content analysis of New Brunswick’s mainstream newspapers indicates a profound bias in favour of perspectives drawn from actors in industry and government. The sources underemphasize the risk profile of small modular reactors, delegitimize criticism, and promote a nuclear realist project tied to the imperatives of neoliberal capitalism and colonialism. Conclusions and implications: Disproportionate coverage of pro-nuclear sources from industry and government thwarts representative public deliberation. Indigenous nations, acting as counterpublics, challenge technocratic, colonial, and neoliberal discourse.

Abstract: This essay examines Francophone and Anglophone Indigenous Oceanian literature and art to argue that through the predominantly Polynesian response to French nuclear testing in Te Ao Mā’ohi (French Polynesia), French colonialism has inadvertently generated one key cultural movement toward post-colonial Oceanian reintegration—one that extends well beyond the Francophone Pacific. The essay first examines the prose fiction of Chantal Spitz, Rai a Mai [aka Michou Chaze], and Déwé Gorodé to understand Te Ao Mā’ohi’s (French Polynesia's) and Kanaky’s (New Caledonia's) shared experiences of French colonialism. It then contrasts the same authors’ treatment of French nuclear weapons testing, which was the central crisis in Mā’ohi literature but which was marginal to early Kanak prose fiction. The essay then brings this Francophone literature in direct conversation with the hitherto unexamined specifically anti-French dimension of better-known Anglophone Oceanian works from authors Witi Ihimaera (Maori) and Albert Wendt (Samoan) and visual artists Ralph Hotere (Maori) and Hiko‘ula Hanapi (Hawaiian). The essay then demonstrates how this mutual Francophone-Anglophone Polynesian response to French colonialism created a Polynesia-centric anti-French-colonial process of Oceanian reintegration, and how that engine of Pacific reintegration later encompassed Kanaky and generated new cultural and activist connections between the Francophone and Anglophone Pacific.

This article revolves around the concept of reverse colonialism and uses the fascinating example of Pripyat as a case study. Pripyat was deeply affected by the devastating Chornobyl nuclear accident in 1986. Following the disaster, the disappearance of its human inhabitants facilitated the transformation of this city into what the authors of this research refer to as anthropo-calyptic landscapes - scenarios where architectures abandoned by humans are colonized by what is known in the field of ecology as novel ecosystems. This process, which allows wild flora and fauna to conquer urban space, results in the emergence of feral architectures - abandoned buildings reclaimed by nature-. By exploring the process of reverse colonialism, the article critically delves into the concept of abiotic restoration, a conventional practice in abandoned architecture restoration projects.

The 1983 call by the Nuclear Free and Independent Pacific (NFIP) campaign to end imperialism built strong alliances between disempowered Indigenous peoples and descendants of the unfree, indentured labourers who had been moved between colonies. The colonies and new nations of the Pacific, including Australia, had been left with populations that included both Indigenous and non-Indigenous (formerly indentured) people, all damaged in different ways by colonialism. There were unresolved tensions between these two groups, particularly in Fiji where the NFIP campaign was established. This paper traces responses in Tranby, an organisation that demonstrated the dilemmas of these tensions for Australian Indigenous people. Tranby, the Aboriginal-led Adult Education Co-operative, took a strong anti-colonial position in the 1980s, advocating land rights as well as endorsing the NFIP campaign. Yet Tranby’s support wavered over the tensions between Indigenous people and those displaced by colonialism through indenture. Tranby’s history demonstrates how its links had continued with colonised peoples damaged in both ways across the Indian and Pacific Oceans, suggesting why it reshaped its support for the NFIP campaign after the 1987 Fiji coups.

Le 16 novembre 1942, dans le désert du Nouveau-Mexique, J. Robert Oppenheimer suggéra à son homologue militaire, le Général Leslie Groves, que la Los Alamos Ranch School d'Ashley Pond serait une localisation idéale pour l'établissement d'un laboratoire secret où continuer la recherche sur la conception et la construction de la bombe atomique. Cet événement scella le destin du Nouveau-Mexique, surnommé la « terre d'enchantement », qui se vit alors octroyé une nouvelle identité en tant que berceau de l'ère nucléaire. Le laboratoire de Los Alamos a déclenché la troisième colonisation de la région : une conquête scientifique financée par le gouvernement fédéral et entretenue par la course à l'armement avec l'Union Soviétique. Le long du Rio Grande, les installations nées à la suite du Projet Manhattan ont révolutionné l'ordre social, économique et démographique établi dans l'État tout en y produisant des bouleversements environnementaux et culturels. Et pourtant, soixante–dix ans plus tard, le Nouveau-Mexique demeurait l'un des cinq États les plus pauvres du pays malgré son Eldorado nucléaire. Cette thèse évalue l'ambivalence et les multiples facettes de l'héritage du Projet Manhattan au Nouveau-Mexique. En estimant la durabilité et la répartition des profits générés par l'industrie nucléaire en termes d'emplois, d'éducation et de niveau de vie, cette thèse interroge l'étendue réelle des gains perçus par les populations locales grâce à cette révolution vers le nucléaire et la haute technologie, ainsi que l'évolution des coûts socio-économiques et environnementaux qu'il a fallu et qu'il faudra encore payer pour la panacée nucléaire. Depuis l'arrivée des premiers pionniers atomiques à Los Alamos, les populations natives du Nouveau-Mexique (qu'il s'agisse des Indiens pueblos, des villageois hispaniques ou des ranchers anglos) ont dû s'adapter aux changements en dents de scie d'un nouvel ordre reposant sur des fonds fédéraux, eux–mêmes déterminés par la scène politique internationale et ils furent confrontés à une concurrence de plus en plus rude avec les nouveaux arrivants, c'est-à-dire les immigrés du nucléaire venant d'autres États. L'association du pouvoir militaire, du gouvernement et de l'omniprésente confidentialité a renforcé les mécanismes du complexe militaro-industriel et scientifique local, ce qui a maintenu la région dans son statut de colonie interne des États-Unis. Depuis les années 1980, une prise de conscience progressive de la société concernant les conséquences environnementales et sanitaires de la radioactivité a entraîné des réactions antinucléaires au Nouveau-Mexique. Dès lors, de nombreuses voix précédemment restées dans le silence se sont levées pour mettre en évidence une autre vision de l'héritage nucléaire dans l'État. Cette perspective locale des participants les plus modestes, les oubliés de l'avènement de l'ère nucléaire, manque de reconnaissance historique. Par conséquent, l'objectif de cette thèse est d'examiner la relation entre ces Nouveaux-Mexicains et l'industrie nucléaire locale
On November 16, 1942, in the New Mexican desert, J. Robert Oppenheimer suggested to his military counterpart, General Leslie Groves, that Ashley Pond's Los Alamos Ranch School would be an ideal location for the establishment of a secret laboratory to pursue research on the design and construction of the atomic bomb. This event sealed the fate of New Mexico, dubbed the “Land of Enchantment,” which acquired a new identity as the cradle of the nuclear age. The Los Alamos Laboratory paved the way to a third colonization of the area; a scientific conquest funded by the Federal Government and maintained by the arms race with the Soviet Union. Along the Rio Grande, the derivative installations of the Manhattan Project revolutionized the social, economic, and demographic order in the state while introducing environmental and cultural disruptions. And yet, seventy years later, New Mexico was still among the five poorest states in the nation despite its nuclear Eldorado. This thesis assesses the double-edged quality and the multiple facets of the Manhattan Project's legacy in New Mexico. By evaluating the durability and distribution of the benefits entailed by the nuclear industry in terms of jobs, education, and standards of living, this dissertation focuses on the question of the extent to which local populations actually gained from this high-technology revolution, and of the environmental, socio-economic price, which has been and will have to be paid for the nuclear bonanza. Since the settlement of the first atomic pioneers in Los Alamos, the native populations of New Mexico—be they Indian Pueblo dwellers, Hispanic villagers, or Anglo ranchers—have had to adapt to the ups and downs of the new order based on a dependence on federal funds that were, in turn, determined by global politics, and to face an increasingly harsh competition with outsiders, i.e. nuclear immigrants to the state. A combination of military and government power with secrecy built up the mechanism of a local military-industrial and scientific complex, which maintained the region's status as an internal colony of the United States. Since the 1980s, growing public awareness of environmental and health consequences of radioactivity have prompted antinuclear reactions in New Mexico. Thereupon, many previously unheard voices have spoken up to shed a new light on the nuclear heritage in the state. This local perspective of the humblest, forgotten participants in the advent of the nuclear age lacks historical recognition; therefore, the purpose of this dissertation is to address the relations between New Mexicans and the local nuclear industry

Cette recherche porte sur l’empreinte de l'extraction d'uranium et de l'armement militaire nucléaire dans la région des Four Corners aux États-Unis. Confrontant récit muséal et enquête de terrain, elle tend à démontrer comment la propagande infuse la narration historique et invisibilise certaines réalités irradiées. Elle questionnera également le nucléaire comme paroxysme du paradigme techno-capitaliste et comme réinvestissement de la figure du pionnier. Nous étudierons aussi Les résurgences nucléaires dans d’autres domaines comme le Land Art et le cinéma. Cette étude démontrera enfin comment les États-Unis sont un incubateur du colonialisme nucléaire. En opposition à ce regard colonial, le désert sera présenté non pas comme une zone aride et stérile, mais comme un écosystème fourmillant afin d’envisager une représentation en résistance
This research focuses on the footprint of uranium mining and nuclear military weaponry in the Four Corners area in the United States. Confronting museum narratives and field surveys, it aims to demonstrate how propaganda infuses the historical narrative and invisibilizes certain irradiated realities. It also examines nuclear power as a paroxysm of the techno-capitalist paradigm and as a reinvestment in the pioneer figure. It will also examine nuclear resurgences in other fields, such as Land Art and cinema. Finally, this study will show how the United States is an incubator of nuclear colonialism. In opposition to this colonial gaze, the desert will be presented not as an arid, sterile zone, but as a teeming ecosystem in order to consider a representation in resistance

This chapter shows how India’s scientists played an important role in policy-making. As science evolved to play a prominent role in the functioning of the modern state, its practitioners also gained importance, particularly those involved in defence research. India’s independence and modernization overlapped with the growth of international technocracy, shaping the relations between politics, the laboratory, and international law. Indian scientists grappled with the nuclear Janus as much as their Western counterparts, and their leaders had to balance the use of science for development and to make weapons of war. The importance of technology to the nation-building project as well as the bitter memories of colonialism informed Indian policy on issues such as nuclear non-proliferation and missile development that remain with us today. In fact, it has become impossible to separate science from its policy implications in the modern state.

Following its liberation from Japanese colonialism, at the end of WWII, Korea was divided into two separate nations. Because the Korean nation enjoyed a long dynastic history, its postwar partition was particularly traumatic. The ensuing Cold War years spawned the Korean War and subsequent decades of strained inter-Korean relations and tensions in the region surrounding the peninsula. This volume provides readers who are unfamiliar with Korea’s heritage insight into how Korea became a divided nation engulfed in international geopolitical tensions, providing expert analysis of this rendered nation’s background, modern circumstances, and future prospects. The Korean peninsula in Northeast Asia is home to a country that was divided at the end of the Second World War after its liberation from Japanese colonialism. Because the Korean nation enjoyed a long dynastic history, its postwar partition was particularly traumatic. The ensuing Cold War years soon spawned a very hot Korean War and subsequent decades of strained inter-Korean relations and tensions in the region surrounding the peninsula. This volume provides readers who are unfamiliar with Korea's heritage with insight into how Korea became a divided nation engulfed in international geopolitical tensions, providing expert analysis of this rendered nation’s background, modern circumstances, and future prospects. After a survey of Korea’s geographic setting and historic legacy, Olsen details the circumstances of Korea's liberation and subsequent division. Drawing on that background, he analyzes the evolution of both South Korea and North Korea as separate states, surveying the politics, economics, and foreign policy of each. What are the key issues for each state from an international perspective? What are the prospects for reuniting the two into one nation? What challenges would a united Korea be likely to face? Olsen determines that stability in Korea is essential to future peace in the region. He concludes that a successful move toward unification is the best way to resolve issues connected to North Korea’s nuclear agenda.

This book shows that connected histories of decolonization and globalization are found in the everyday activities of individuals as much as they are histories of states, institutions and formal organisations. Viewing decolonization through non-state activist practices, and setting anti-colonial solidarity in the context of contemporary global peace movements, it argues that seemingly marginal histories can illuminate aspects of the end of empire that are not readily apparent in studies centered on state diplomacy and nationalist movements. Taking the work of anti-apartheid pioneer and British churchman Michael Scott as a starting point, Skinner explores connected global histories of anti-nuclear peace campaigns, anti-colonialism and decolonization to illuminate new perspectives on the end of empire and the Cold War. Studying an ambitious scheme to irrigate the Kalahari Desert, a failed attempt to infiltrate the French atom bomb test site in southern Algeria, and a mass march across the border between Tanganyika and Northern Rhodesia that never took place, these examples provide valuable insights into the interactions between local and global scales of historical experience. In presenting these histories in this manner, this book demonstrates how global and transnational histories can challenge and disrupt, rather than reinforce hierarchies of power and privileges. In doing so, it also contributes to ongoing debates surrounding the nature of decolonization as a historical phenomenon by focusing on the practices of activism that shaped - and were shaped by – the political and intellectual structures of decolonization.

This chapter provides readers with an overview of the transformations of French defence policy since 1991. To a large degree, French defence policy is still perceived through a ‘Gaullist’ prism by non-specialist observers, who tend to analyse French defence developments by referring to a pursuit of ‘independence’ at all costs, or a willingness to maintain neo-colonialists’ privileges. This chapter challenges this prevailing narrative by providing a concise yet complete analysis of the drivers of French defence policy. First, it discusses the French strategic culture, the institutional setting (role of the president, parliament, etc.) and civil–military relations in France. Second, it presents the role of nuclear weapons in French defence policy. Finally, it presents the evolution of the force structure since 1991. It also discusses the two key drivers of military change in France: interventions abroad and France’s membership to international security institutions.

This chapter examines the epistemological-ontological-ethical implications of temporal dis/junction by reading insights from Quantum Field Theory and Kyoko Hayashi’s account of the destruction wrought by the Nagasaki bombing through one another. The diffraction of time at the core of quantum field theory troubles the scalar distinction between the world of subatomic particles and that of colonialism, war, nuclear physics research, and environmental destruction; all of which entangle the effects of nuclear warfare throughout the present time, troubling the binaries between micro and macro, nature and culture, nonhuman and human. The chapter thus attempts to think through what possibilities remain open for an embodied re-membering of the past which, against the colonialist practices of erasure and avoidance and the related desire to set time aright, calls for thinking a certain undoing of time; a work of mourning more accountable to, and doing justice to, the victims of ecological destruction and of racist, colonialist, and nationalist violence, human and otherwise—those victims who are no longer there, and those yet to come.

Chapter 3, “Witnessing Ecologies,” attends to the witnessing of more-than-human ecologies, as well as ecologies of witnessing. Investigating nonhuman witnessing in the context of climate catastrophe and nuclear war, the chapter proposes the term ecological trauma to describe the injurious and ongoing effects of the rupturing of relations that compose ecologies as living and changing assemblages of more-than-human entities and processes. Engaging with scholarship on trauma, climate change, media ecologies, ecology, and nuclear colonialism, this chapter examines nonhuman witnessing across several sites: intergovernmental climate change initiatives in the Pacific; environmental remote-sensing regimes; artistic works that engage with the scale of climate crisis; and the glassblowing work of Indigenous artist Yhonnie Scarce, which responds to nuclear weapons testing in Australia.

Abstract This chapter articulates the contributions of Olof Palme to the struggles for justice and peace. Its entry point is the broader issue of the constitution of the political in Western political thought predicated on such elements as the paradigm of difference (racism), the will to power, and the paradigm of war (homo polemos/warrior tradition/friend-foe dialectic). The key thesis is how these logics enabled enslavement, conquest, colonialism, imperialism, world wars, arms race, nuclear proliferation, and notions/realities of superpowers with monopoly of weapons of mass destruction as the antithesis of justice and peace. Plame enters the scene in the post-Second World War, which was dominated by the wave of decolonization, struggles for liberation, and global ideological rivalry known as the Cold War. What distinguished Palme’s politics and public diplomacy activism was his advocacy for East-West détente targeting the Cold War and subverting bipolarism, consistent advocacy for nuclear disbarment, strong belief in social democracy and equality, building of North-South dialogue, open support for Third World (Global South) liberation as he considered colonialism and apartheid as threats to world peace, and promotion of Global South solidarity (solidarity of small states).

By reframing our understanding of nuclear issues, we can see more clearly the intersection of the so-called peaceful atom with seemingly disconnected topics, including racism, colonialism and neocolonialism, propaganda, surveillance and control, weapons programs, and war. When we acknowledge these connections, the centrality of a cornucopian narrative emerges—one that counts on remaking nature, quickening its pulse, or avoiding environmental dangers—as an unmistakable feature of atomic energy when pursued by governments. If that is the case, we must begin to acknowledge that these particular ideas are deeply embedded in the same range of difficult and ugly global questions. The cornucopian promise of the atom has been an extraordinary useful instrument of power. It was not a marginal issue in the global nuclear order. Instead, it has been the one indispensable piece of it.

This chapter challenges ‘chessboard’ interpretations of infrastructural geopolitics in a realm often assumed to be the sole purview of great powers: nuclear energy. More specifically, it analyses how Namibian actors have employed radioactive strategies – a term used here to refer to the tactics through which actors use the geopolitical significance of nuclear infrastructures to advance their spatial objectives – to pursue their own spatial-political objectives in the context of nuclear geopolitics and uranium mining. It does so across temporalities ranging from German colonialism to apartheid South Africa’s quest for ‘the bomb’ and the Cold War to the war on climate change. The chapter explains how the South West Africa People’s Organization (SWAPO), Namibia’s liberation-movement-turned-ruling-party, transformed nuclear infrastructures from symbols of colonial and apartheid exploitation into core components of its quest for state-led extractive development. It begins with an overview of the colonial and apartheid origins of Namibian uranium before embarking on a more detailed analysis of SWAPO’s radioactive strategies during the Cold War, the US-led War on Terror, and, finally, the current moment of US–China rivalry. It concludes with a discussion of how attending to historical and geographic contexts and host country agency can shed new light on infrastructural geopolitics across multiple scales.

This short interstitial chapter examines the practice of Marshallese wave piloting, a tradition of ocean navigation that uses emplaced readings of sea wave diffraction patterns, mapped on “stick charts” and sensed from voyaging canoes, to travel around what Epeli Hau'ofa has called the “Sea of Islands” in the Western Pacific. The chapter also examines how European and American scientists have sought to place computational wave models in dialogue with Marshallese wave navigation. It reads these attempts through postcolonial and decolonial discussions of Indigenous wave piloting in Oceania, attending along the way to how these practices are staged against the legacies of US and French nuclear colonialism in the region.