Title: Midnight
in Chernobyl – The Untold Story of the World’s Greatest Nuclear Disaster
Author: Adam Higginbotham
Publisher: Bantam, 2019 (First)
ISBN: 9780593076842
Pages: 538
In its bid to build up an industrial infrastructure
rivalling the West, the erstwhile Soviet Union turned to nuclear power in a big
way. A lot of nuclear reactors that generated electric power came up in many
parts of the sprawling nation. Chernobyl in Ukraine was one such unit housing
four reactors using the Russian-developed RBMK technology, each generating 1000
megawatt of electricity. Construction of two new reactors was progressing at a furious
pace in 1986. On the night of April 26 of that year, a terrible explosion
occurred in Unit Four that transformed the destiny of the nuclear power
industry and accelerated – to a considerable extent – the downfall of communism
in the world. At the time of the mishap, the V I Lenin nuclear power station at
Chernobyl was the world's largest nuclear power complex. The explosion caused
the release of tons of deadly radioactive material into the atmosphere which
landed back on ground as dust and rain. The entire Europe was also affected by
the nuclear fallout. The authorities had to evacuate the whole population from
a zone running thirty kilometres in all directions of the plant. Chernobyl
accident was caused by careless planning, sloppy operation, and serious design problems
pushed under the carpet. This book tells the story of the incident in panoramic
detail. Adam Higginbotham is a journalist who has written for major American
newspapers and lives in New York City.
This book presents a critical analysis of the
Soviet nuclear program and its unwonted emphasis on secrecy. Accidents were not
reported to the international watchdog IAEA. For almost thirty years, both the
Soviet public and the world at large were encouraged to believe that the USSR
operated the safest nuclear industry in the world. The Communist party
controlled all aspects of life in the country and meddled with nuclear
technology as well. Nuclear engineers had to study political indoctrination as
part of curricula such as the history of the party in the Soviet Union and the
social laws established by Marx and developed by Lenin and Brezhnev. Position
in the party influenced recruitment such as a person's posting in a plum job.
Nikolai Fomin, the operations chief of the Chernobyl plant had risen through party
circles and had learnt nuclear physics by a correspondence course!
After outlining the political structure that led to
the disaster, the author brings out the design flaws that invited catastrophe.
The reactor was huge – as befits the description of any product built inside
the iron curtain – having a size twenty times that of Western reactors.
Contrary to practice, it had no containment building, the thick concrete dome
built around every reactor. Because the RBMK reactor was so immense, building
the containment structure would have doubled the cost. The reactor was also riddled
with a serious problem called the Positive
Void Coefficient. When steam bubbles through water, the displacement of the
liquid by the vapour phase reduced its moderating property to control the
nuclear reaction. This caused a positive feedback mechanism that undermined
reactor stability. The positive void
coefficient resulted in runaway chain reactions in the event of a loss of
coolant. This was a bane of the RBMK technology. It grew worse as more of the
fuel was burnt. The longer it was in operation, the harder the reactor became
to control. At the end of the three-year operating cycle, the reactor would be at
its most unpredictable.
The extraordinarily large size of the reactor only
added to the woes of the operators. Due to the huge size, reaction was often
confined to narrow regions. The instrumentation was antiquated and when the
control rods were inserted, reaction shot up initially before gradually coming
down – another design fault. In addition to the growing list of troubles, the
emergency protective system took eighteen seconds to fully insert the control
rods to the core to shut down the reactor. In the frenzy to line up the unit at
the earliest, several critical tests were postponed during the commissioning
stage. The accident occurred when the management had decided to do a rundown
test that was long overdue. This test helps to ensure supply of cooling water
to the reactor in case of a total blackout. The unit was to be taken out for
maintenance after running continuously for three years since its installation.
The test and eventual stoppage of the reactor was scheduled during daytime, but
the Kiev grid operator refused permission and suggested to stop it after the
peak load hours. This pushed the test to begin at around 1:00 am.
An accident is an accident which can happen
anywhere and anytime, irrespective of whether the state is socialist or
capitalist. What is shocking is the communist state’s obsession with secrecy
and cover-up. Every accident that occurred at a nuclear station in the Soviet
Union continued to be regarded as a state secret, kept even from the specialists
at the installation where they occurred. Even when Chernobyl was making
headline news in international media, Soviet citizens were still not informed
about the true scale of the disaster and its possible impact on environment and
public health. Party-run newspapers relegated highly censored reports to the
inner pages, under sports results. Europe took precautions when radioactivity was
first detected in Sweden and people made a beeline to drug stores for potassium
iodide tablets to keep away harmful effects of radiation. Lack of information
bred panic in the West and distrust of the administration in the USSR. In a
socialist polity, all parts of the country are supposed to be equal, but the
regions where top party leaders reside were more equal than the others. When
the wind turned towards Moscow, threatening it with radioactive dust clouds
from Chernobyl, Soviet aircrafts flew repeated missions to seed the clouds with
silver iodide and forced rain on the countryside. The capital was spared, but
hundreds of square kilometres of fertile farmland in Belarus were lashed with
black rain containing radioactive graphite particles, rendering the produce
unfit for consumption.
However hard you may accuse the socialist system of
incompetence and secrecy, once it was awakened out of slumber, the beast did a
thorough job of containment and evacuation humanly possible. The author hands
out some glowing commendations to the selfless workers who risked their lives
to work on the damaged reactor. All souls, except the working crew, were
evacuated permanently from a thirty-kilometre zone and all children in Kiev for
a few days. Many settlements were decontaminated many times, but homes that resisted
the process were simply demolished. Eventually, whole villages were bulldozed
flat and buried. Even the leaves on the trees and the earth beneath the feet
had become sources of ionizing radiation. The bill for the mitigation measures
was a staggering $128 billion. That was equal to the total Soviet defence
budget for 1989. This came on the heels of an oil price crash, when oil was a prime
source of revenue to the Soviets.
Higginbotham’s focus is on radiation, but he
positions a convenient mirror on the life of ordinary people under the Communist
party’s dictatorship. USSR had enforced an internal passport system that
prevented most citizens from leaving their areas of registration without good
reason and concurrence from the authorities. Radio speaker boxes were hardwired
in every apartment, piping in propaganda, just like gas and electricity, over three
channels – union, republic and city. Even switching it off was regarded with
suspicion. The book also talks about the beginning of the end of communism.
With Gorbachev's glasnost, the party
released its grip on information with more open reporting from Chernobyl.
Slowly at first, but then with gathering momentum, the Soviet republic began to
discover how deeply it had been misled about the accident and ideology and
identity upon which their society was founded. The accident and the government’s
inability to protect its population finally shattered the illusion that the
USSR was a global superpower armed with technology that led the world. As the
state’s attempts to conceal the truth came to light, even the most faithful
citizens of the Soviet Union faced the realisation that their leaders were corrupt
and that the Communist dream was a sham.
The heroic efforts of the team called ‘liquidators’
to seal off the damaged reactor are thrilling and extol the glory of Soviet
dedication. Just five months after the collapse, Unit One reactor came back
online and the three remaining reactors eventually continued to pour
electricity to the Ukrainian grid till the year 2000. Higginbotham has made
several visits to the affected areas as part of his research for this book.
This helps him to lay before us a comprehensive picture of things. By 2005,
4700 sq. km of north western Ukraine and southern Belarus was still declared
uninhabitable by radiation. Even after three decades, half of the wild boar
shot by hunters in the forests of the Czech Republic was still too radioactive
for human consumption. However, things are not all bleak. In the exclusion
zone, ecological rebirth and renewal is now taking place. Groups of animals are
thriving there as if humans are a more serious threat than radiation. Even
people are surreptitiously settling inside the exclusion zone. The public
health effects, as a whole, were not really as substantial as had at first been
feared.
The book is absorbing and pleasing to read. The
epilogue summarises the later lives of all major characters in the drama that
unfolded on that deadly April night in 1986. A neat glossary and a description
of radiation-related terms add to the appeal. That can't be said about the many
photographic plates included in it. The monochrome images are more of people
than of events and vistas related in the text.
The book is highly recommended.
Rating: 4 Star
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