Safety demands face long odds with nuclear plant
It's disheartening to see factories that churn out the most hellacious waste in the world plop down into Idaho fields, set up high-paying jobs, then become integrated into the area via churches, spirited Little League ball teams and 4-H clubs.
When something dreadful occurs at a nuclear site, often the culture covers up. Whistleblowers are terrified of repercussions, being shunned by society and worse. Few want to be known as killing the goose with the golden eggs, even if they are speckled with plutonium.
Two years ago, there was a news splash at the Los Alamos, N.M., lab. The highly carcinogenic PU-239 was detected in five workers' noses. It took several days before this information came out to the public. Then it was through the Project on Government Oversight that co-workers coughed this up to, rather than their own trusted government and contractor.
Ironically, of all the of jobs I've labored on, the rules insisted that every accident, no matter how small, be reported - even if it's a cut from a piece of paper as tiny and insignificant as America's Constitution. It's not right that our best men juggling the most dangerous element under the sun should be skittish about reporting disasters that hold far-reaching ramifications. After all, would not the open reporting of near catastrophes aid in preventing similar events?
Recently some Department of Energy spokespersons drove over to Sun Valley, claiming they care about the environment and their grandchildren. If this is true, then they should invite aspiring scientists to join a contest designing foolproof double blind whistle-blower systems. A Rube Goldberg category could be included to generate interest among innovative high-schoolers who seem to have more open dialogues than the highest levels of our own government. The winner could receive a lifetime subscription to POGO magazine.
JIM BANHOLZER
Hailey
When something dreadful occurs at a nuclear site, often the culture covers up. Whistleblowers are terrified of repercussions, being shunned by society and worse. Few want to be known as killing the goose with the golden eggs, even if they are speckled with plutonium.
Two years ago, there was a news splash at the Los Alamos, N.M., lab. The highly carcinogenic PU-239 was detected in five workers' noses. It took several days before this information came out to the public. Then it was through the Project on Government Oversight that co-workers coughed this up to, rather than their own trusted government and contractor.
Ironically, of all the of jobs I've labored on, the rules insisted that every accident, no matter how small, be reported - even if it's a cut from a piece of paper as tiny and insignificant as America's Constitution. It's not right that our best men juggling the most dangerous element under the sun should be skittish about reporting disasters that hold far-reaching ramifications. After all, would not the open reporting of near catastrophes aid in preventing similar events?
Recently some Department of Energy spokespersons drove over to Sun Valley, claiming they care about the environment and their grandchildren. If this is true, then they should invite aspiring scientists to join a contest designing foolproof double blind whistle-blower systems. A Rube Goldberg category could be included to generate interest among innovative high-schoolers who seem to have more open dialogues than the highest levels of our own government. The winner could receive a lifetime subscription to POGO magazine.
JIM BANHOLZER
Hailey
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