The British had requested and were granted a huge chunk of South Australia to create a "permanent" atomic weapons test site, after finding the conditions at Monte Bello and Emu Field too remote and unworkable. Australia's then prime minister, Robert Menzies, was all too happy to oblige. Back in September 1950 in a phone call with his British counterpart, Clement Attlee, he had said yes to nuclear testing without even referring the issue to his cabinet.
Menzies was not entirely blinded by his well-known anglophilia; he also saw advantages for Australia in granting Britain's request. He was seeking assurances of security in a post-Hiroshima, nuclear-armed world and he believed that working with the UK would provide guarantees of at least British protection, and probably US protection as well.
He was also exploring ways to power civilian Australia with atomic energy and — whisper it — even to buy an atomic bomb with an Australian flag on it (for more background, see here).
While Australia had not been involved in developing either atomic weaponry or nuclear energy, she wanted in now. Menzies' ambitions were such that he authorised offering more to the British than they requested.
The damage done to Indigenous people in the vicinity of all three test sites is immeasurable and included displacement, injury and death.
Service personnel from several countries, but particularly Britain and Australia, also suffered — not least because of their continuing fight for the slightest recognition of the dangers they faced.
Many of the injuries and deaths allegedly caused by the British tests have not been formally linked to the operation, a source of ongoing distress for those involved.
The cost of the clean-up exceeded $100 million in the late 1990s. Britain paid less than half, and only after protracted pressure and negotiations.
Decades later, we still don't know the full extent of the effects suffered by service personnel and local communities. Despite years of legal wrangling, those communities' suffering has never been properly recognised or compensated.
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Menzies was not entirely blinded by his well-known anglophilia; he also saw advantages for Australia in granting Britain's request. He was seeking assurances of security in a post-Hiroshima, nuclear-armed world and he believed that working with the UK would provide guarantees of at least British protection, and probably US protection as well.
He was also exploring ways to power civilian Australia with atomic energy and — whisper it — even to buy an atomic bomb with an Australian flag on it (for more background, see here).
While Australia had not been involved in developing either atomic weaponry or nuclear energy, she wanted in now. Menzies' ambitions were such that he authorised offering more to the British than they requested.
The damage done to Indigenous people in the vicinity of all three test sites is immeasurable and included displacement, injury and death.
Service personnel from several countries, but particularly Britain and Australia, also suffered — not least because of their continuing fight for the slightest recognition of the dangers they faced.
Many of the injuries and deaths allegedly caused by the British tests have not been formally linked to the operation, a source of ongoing distress for those involved.
The cost of the clean-up exceeded $100 million in the late 1990s. Britain paid less than half, and only after protracted pressure and negotiations.
Decades later, we still don't know the full extent of the effects suffered by service personnel and local communities. Despite years of legal wrangling, those communities' suffering has never been properly recognised or compensated.
ABC MORE
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