What Oppenheimer Misses: America’s Nuclear Legacy’s Impact on Indigenous Land
Months before its release, the internet could not stop buzzing about Oppenheimer, nor separate the film from its hot pink competition. Come July 21, 2023, audiences of Oppenheimer locked in for three hours, following the story of American physicist, J. Robert Oppenheimer. Viewers held their breath as they followed the development of the Manhattan Project—a program resulting in the creation of the two atomic bombs dropped in Hiroshima and Nagasaki—which would effectively bring World War II to an end. Despite the film’s critical acclaim, particularly for its life-like accuracy, many people glossed over what the movie missed: America’s nuclear legacy’s impact on indigenous land.
The Navajo Nation, which today spans across Utah, Arizona, and New Mexico, had several central ties to World War II. The U.S. military utilized Navajo language as a secret code for transmission over military radio with the help of Navajo Code Talkers. Parts of the Navajo reservation in Nevada were used to mine for uranium for the Manhattan Project. From these 500 mines, nearly 30 million tons of uranium ore were extracted; most of the mine workers were Navajo, and none of the miners were provided with any protection from the radioactivity.
Soon, the Manhattan Project progressed towards testing at the Nevada National Security Site, where over a thousand nuclear weapons would be detonated between 1951 to 1992—long after where Oppenheimer leaves off. During this time, wind carried most of the nuclear fallout toward the Navajo Reservation, and a dam failure in 1979 led to the spillage of more than a thousand tons of solid radioactive material and 360 million liters of wastewater into the Puerco River. Last tested in 2012, water in the Navajo reservation was found to have an average of 90 micrograms of uranium per liter, with some streams measuring up to 700 micrograms. For context, the EPA defines above 30 micrograms per liter as harmful. Today, the Navajo people continue to struggle from the lasting environmental and health impacts inflicted on their community. Navajo Nation President Buu Nygren has expressed that the Manhattan project is, “an accomplishment built on top of the bodies of Navajo men, women, and children... But, as usual, Hollywood chose to gloss over them.”
Other Indigenous communities have similarly suffered from the consequences of U.S. nuclear testing following the start of the Cold War. The Nevada National Security Site itself is directly located in the lands of the Northwestern Band of the Shoshone Tribe, which extends throughout Utah, Idaho, Wyoming, and Nevada. The nuclear testing site was erected in violation of the Treaty of Ruby Valley, also known as the Treaty of Peace and Friendship, signed in 1863, which defined the boundaries of the Western Shoshones’ ancestral land. Testing itself was conducted without the consent nor the knowledge of the tribe—even as nearly a thousand tests were conducted both above and below ground. The community could do nothing to prevent the fallout that would contaminate the land and wildlife.
A similar helplessness was true for native inhabitants of the Marshall Islands, where the U.S. conducted 67 nuclear tests between 1946 and 1958. The bombs tested during this time in the Marshall Islands were far more powerful and damaging than those dropped in Japan or New Mexico, with their power equal to “1.7 Hiroshima bombs dropped every day for 12 years.”
Oppenheimer himself strongly opposed nuclear testing for the Marshall Islands. He had hoped that the tests would be postponed or canceled, expressing concern regarding the costs and soundness of the tests in a letter to President Truman. The Marshall Islands, located in the northwestern Pacific Ocean, consist of 29 atolls, or ring-shaped islands or coral reefs. Though only two atolls—Bikini and Enewetak—were selected, radioactive fallout spread across the entirety of the Marshall Islands. Some of the atolls most impacted include Rongelap, Utrok, and Ailinginae. In many cases, such as the dropping of Bravo Shot, the largest nuclear device ever detonated by the U.S., officials were aware in advance that the wind would carry fallout to atolls nearby Bikini. As a result, A large portion of the Marshallese people were then exposed, without warning, to radioactive particles and debris falling from the sky in mass amounts. Following their exposure, natives were forced to undergo human experiments without their consent under the guise of healthcare, which caused novel birth defects such as “jellyfish babies” or babies born without bones; these “jellyfish babies” rarely survived more than a few days after birth.
According to Ian Zabarte, Principal Man of the Western Bands of the Shoshone Nation who has attempted to work with the Marshallese for reparations, “The health impacts on our people have never been investigated…we have never received an apology, let alone any kind of compensation.” Any arrangements for compensation have proved to be ineffective. The Compact and the Section 177 Settlement Agreement, made between the U.S. and the Marshallese in 1986, held that “The Government of the United States accepts the responsibility for compensation owing to citizens of the Marshall Islands.” This agreement included a $150 million Nuclear Claims Fund to cover purposes such as healthcare, food, agriculture, and more. Yet, many Marshallese were unable to receive their full award, or have their claims funded.
Prior to testing, the U.S. forcibly removed the indigenous people from the islands, forcing the Marshallese to leave behind their ancient heritage, traditions, and even sacred burial grounds. The natives were relocated across a variety of places, including other atolls within the Marshall Islands, northwest Arkansas, along the West Coast, and Hawaii. Several years following the Marshallese’s return, after the U.S. government stated that it was safe to do so, radiation levels remained far too high for habitation. Once again, the Marshallese were forced to relocate, not without suffering from additional health and environmental impacts from the lingering contamination of their native land. In 2007, the number of atolls exposed to radiation was revised from four to ten. Despite creating a healthcare program, however, The Section 177 Settlement Agreement, could only use its limited budget to collect data and provide baseline healthcare that could not address the excess number of cancer cases.
A report submitted to the House of Representatives by the Minister of Foreign Affairs and Trade Government of the Republic of the Marshall Islands (RMI) details the continued lack of accountability on the part of the U.S. The relationship between the federal government and the Marshall Islands is governed by the Compacts of Free Association. In other words, the Marshallese people are allowed to “freely” associate with the U.S. by having the right to reside and work in the U.S., as well as join the armed forces, without the Marshall Islands needing to be a U.S. territory or commonwealth. Under these provisions, the two governments agreed that should “changed circumstances” be identified, the Marshall Islands could petition for additional compensation. Accordingly, in 2000, the RMI government submitted a petition, requesting additional compensation to cover property damage, restoration costs, health services, and radiological monitoring. The RMI referred to new information that the Marshallese had found regarding the leaking Runit Dome—a storage structure for nuclear waste from both Marshall Islands testing and the Nevada National Security Site. Specifically, the report noted that the Runit Dome was not only leaking radioactive waste into the lagoon and ocean, but also that the U.S. Energy Department has never conducted an inspection of the dome despite one being required every four years by the U.S. Insular Areas Act of 2011. After arguing for the case of “changed circumstances” in 2004, the U.S. Department of State concluded that the request did not qualify.
Domestic attempts to provide compensation have only been slightly more successful. In 1990, the U.S. government passed the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA), establishing a program for claims related to nuclear testing and uranium industry employment. Individuals who suffered from serious illnesses, such as uranium industry workers, on-site participants at nuclear tests, and individuals who lived downwind from the Nevada National Security Site, were eligible to claim compensation following exposure to radiation. As of August 1, 2022, out of more than 50,000 claims filed under RECA, more than 12% were identified as Navajos.
Although RECA has provided important healthcare coverage for some Navajo miners, several limitations of the act have left many Navajo people suffering from the health and environmental impacts of radiation without compensation. The list of diseases that the law covers excludes many, such as renal cancer, nephritis, and kidney tubal tissue injury. Additionally, Navajo miners employed after 1971 were not eligible for compensation, despite facing the same dangers of and work of uranium mining. Today, Navajo people are still regularly diagnosed with a variety of cancers and illnesses caused by radiation poisoning, with high rates of stillbirths and miscarriages among women living near the mines.
Oppenheimer erases this history; at the very least, it conveniently forgets the stories of the Indigenous people who were directly affected by the very real damage done by the United States’ nuclear legacy. As the movie takes the audience through the Trinity test—the world’s first nuclear weapon to ever be detonated—viewers are left shocked by the brilliance of the explosion, the face of Oppenheimer washed by a white blinding light. This same light illuminated the land of the native people living nearby the nuclear test, unexplainable to them as to what this explosion could be. The Navajo, Shoshone, and other neighboring Native American tribes lived to bear witness and to endure the consequences of the explosion—Oppenheimer just does not show it.
Justice and recognition for the indigenous people affected by America’s nuclear legacy have been continuously disrupted and delayed; instead, redress is something indigenous communities must struggle for. Though Oppenheimer—both the film and physicist—would echo the quote, “Now I am Death, the Destroyer of Worlds,” in a haunting, dystopian manner, these very words are most fully realized for Native American and indigenous Marshallese communities.
Ashley Park (CC ’27) is a staff writer at CPR and a student majoring in political science and sustainable development.