September 28, 1993
Chicago
Daniel J. Travanti
The infernal internal combustion engine is one of the worst ideas man ever had. Nuclear energy—energy, not just the nuclear bomb or missile—is the more frightening and more destructive.
Prometheus stole fire from the gods and never got over it. He was chained forever—in pain—from an eagle clawing at his heart. He lived. This didn’t kill him, it only hurt him forever. In the 1940’s, we stole fire from the gods again, for real. The parable had done no good. The warning wasn’t good enough, because the pain we are feeling is subtle—not to me, but to too many, obviously—and it will come like the poison it is; seeping over time, centuries, into the earth, water, air, everywhere. The poison is going to hurt us forever.
During the 40’s, films were made. They were awkward, homey, reassuring, messages from “experts” who told us that we had nothing to fear from nuclear radiation. No one could be an expert on the subject. It was too early. Almost nothing was known about radiation. Today, little is known, but still, the experts declare that all is safe. We’ve had Three Mile Island and other examples to the contrary, but still the experts tell us it’s safe. For years now, they have been telling us that “low grade” nuclear waste is safe, because it’s not as powerful. It’s low. That’s the reassurance. No one bothered to ask what the term means. No one understood nuclear energy in the first place. We felt we understood the bomb. That was simple. It was big, it created a huge mushroom, it sent a brilliant light. It had to be dropped on the stubborn enemy, to save lives. It had to be dropped again, just to be sure. It worked. Nuclear bombs were dangerous. But the waste? No one talked about it, yet.
Then when they begin to talk about it, they said it could be contained. Some of the same people, the experts from those first films and new “experts” reassured us again, a little more professionally. They knew more, they said now. Finally people saw the figures. Low grade means that the waste will deteriorate in only about 500 years. That’s all. Nothing to worry about. And it can be contained, in concrete tombs, buried deep in the earth. People who grow tobacco say that smoking tobacco is not harmful to our health. There is no real proof. People who grow nuclear plants say that nuclear energy is not harmful, and nuclear waste won’t hurt you. There isn’t enough proof. Lies we agree to live by. Lies we shall die by.
The parable is not just a warning that might perhaps dissuade some, a lesson, an aid. The parable is a prophecy also. Its prediction is coming true. Not just that humankind will steal fire despite his inability to control its force, but that humans will not care, won’t believe it. Or, if they do, will defy the destruction anyway, willing to pay in pain. But if the pain does not come now—immediately—there is no pain. The future doesn’t hurt, especially if you’re not in it. And if it hurts others, that is only a myth to us now. Profit is now. And profit can be made from nuclear plants. The price is too high. The price cannot be paid. Usury is not a strong enough word to describe the exorbitant cost. Irresponsibility is strong enough to describe what we are guilty of. Insensitivity, too, that’s strong enough. But there is no word strong enough to describe the insanity and ugliness of not facing the truth. Our egos are paradoxical. They are small, bloated, powerless blobs puffed up into gigantic, sickly, overbearing, relentless monsters.
We harness nothing. Not if the force ultimately releases us and lives to kill us all. It’s only a matter of time. There are better ways now, but America seems to have a penny-ante, gimme-some-now-and-we’ll-worry-about-the-rest-later, don’t get in my way, you can’t stop me from makin’ an honest buck-kinda mind.
Unchain me. I didn’t ask for this.