Windscale

In 1957, in a northern English seaside town, a disaster of unprecedented proportions occurred when a fire broke out in the country’s main nuclear reactor – a fire that many argue was an accident waiting to happen.^[1] The fire at the two-pile Windscale facility in Cumberland (now Sellafield, Cumbria), was a classic case of industrial mismanagement leading to deadly consequences, except that this incident was embroiled in Cold War-era politics and secrecy, and proved the lengths the British government were willing to go to, to take its ‘rightful place’ in the nuclear arms race. This blog piece aims to analyse the Windscale fire through the lens of the risks taken by governments in the name of serving a political end goal, namely through slow responses to disasters, dishonesty over the danger of health risks, and the initial danger posed by the building of nuclear reactors in the first place. It is worth noting that, when studied side-by-side, the similarities between the fire at Windscale and the now-infamous nuclear disaster that occurred in the Soviet Union three decades later become strikingly apparent and show how the nuclear obsession of the mid-twentieth century tempted governments on either side of the iron curtain to take risks in the name of militarism and deterrence. All this begs the question: how close did Britain come to having a full-scale Chernobyl incident of its own? And just how far were the British government willing to push their luck?

Most important when asking the question of why the fire broke out at Windscale is an understanding of the geopolitical context within which the factory operators and decision makers were working. Like many historical queries, the question of the origins of the Windscale fire can be succinctly explained with a simple answer: the Cold War. The chain of events leading up to the disaster were heavily influenced by geopolitics of the 1940s and 50s, namely the nuclear arms race and the British government’s obsession with securing a ‘special  relationship’ with the USA, like the one they had enjoyed during the Second World War which resulted in America’s invention of the atomic bomb with help from British scientists.^[2] The Cold War climate meant that the motivation behind most nuclear projects in Britain and abroad was militaristic and centred around creating the means of self-defence to deter attackers, most significantly, the Soviet Union who were believed to also be building up their arsenal at this time.^[3]

However, for the British government, having an A-bomb of its own was not solely about Soviet deterrence; it was about proving Britain’s enduring ability to remain a world power – one not to be messed with, and capable and worthy of nuclear collaboration with the Americans.^[4] In the wake of Britain’s declining empire and power following the Second World War, it was feared that American trust in the British was waning.^[5] After the McMahon Act of 1946 declared that the US would no longer be sharing nuclear secrets with any other country, even its allies, the reestablishment of a nuclear deal became a top priority of prime minister Clement Atlee and his successors.^[6] To make this possible, it was decided that what Britain needed to do was prove itself capable of making an atomic bomb without American help. As will be shown, the British government, particularly prime minister Harold Macmillan was prepared to win a new nuclear deal with the Americans at any cost.^[7] It was under these political conditions and pressures that construction on the Windscale facility began.

Windscale was plagued with safety concerns right from its inception, mostly due to the tight deadlines and time constraints placed on the facility by the government who were eager to get their A-bomb built and tested as soon as possible.^[8] These deadlines encouraged a prioritisation of results over safety, with corners being cut to save money and produce plutonium at a faster rate than the piles were capable of. The piles were built with an air-cooling system as opposed to the typical water-cooling system of most nuclear facilities; this worked well to combat the restraints of the facility’s location but increased the possibility of radioactive air being blown out onto the unsuspecting local population, until filters were added at the insistence of scientist John Cockcroft.^[9] In the wake of the fire, the irony of the filters being given the nickname ‘Cockcroft’s follies’ cannot be understated.^[10] Another example of the lack of regard for safety can be seen in how the pile operators resorted to shaving down the fins of the aluminium cartridges that housed the uranium within the reactor and stopped them being heated too much and too quickly.^[11] This shows that even the safety measures that were put in place were circumvented in a bid to save time.

Starting on October 9th, 1957, an aluminium cannister burst inside pile no.1, something that the operators had experienced and dealt with multiple times before, except this time, the worst case scenario came true when the uranium rod within the protective casing caught fire and burned for around three days.^[12] Despite the hastily added filters, radioactive debris was released from the chimneys – making it the worst case of accidental release of radioactive materials in British history.^[13] Despite fears over the potential cancer risks posed to local children, the main course of action taken by authorities to stop the spread of radiation was the recall and destruction of around 250,000 gallons of milk from farms within 300 square miles of the facility.^[14] Local residents were not evacuated or even notified that the fire was taking place, leaving them ignorant and therefore at risk; even the government report on the fire was deemed unpublishable due to the risk it posed to the negotiations that were going on between British and the US by 1957.^[15] In subsequent years, there have been an estimated 100-240 cancer related deaths attributed to radiation from the fire – a high price to pay for political bragging rights and the salvaging of a nuclear relationship with the US.^[16]

In a post-Chernobyl world, one where we now know the consequences of nuclear disasters and industrial mismanagement, it seems absurd that a government would have such a careless reaction to a level 5 (out of 7) nuclear accident, but in the 1950s and earlier, many countries frequently downplayed or covered up entirely the environmental and human health risks posed by their nuclear experimentation.^[17] Despite the major differences in the political systems of their countries of origin, the factors that led to the Windscale fire were not dissimilar from that of the 1986 Chernobyl disaster in the Soviet Union. Both factories were operating with a lack of support; pressure for fast results; and with safety risks built into the reactors from their construction as a means of saving time and money.^[18] A perhaps even more fitting comparison would be the disaster at the Mayak facility in the Soviet Union which occurred barely a month before the Windscale fire and in a reactor also making plutonium for an atomic bomb.^[19] All three events were covered up or censored to varying degrees by their respective governments who prioritised international relations and reputation over honesty with their citizens about the potential health risks. So, what was it about nuclear energy that made these two diametrically opposed Cold War enemies throw caution to the wind in the exact same manner? Between nuclear power and the manufacturing and testing of nuclear weapons, it seems that the twentieth century was a time when states became increasingly comfortable with putting their citizens at risk in the name of militarism and scientific breakthroughs.

The events surrounding the Windscale Fire and many other nuclear disasters can be understood in the terms of Ulrich Beck’s ‘risk society’ theory, which posits that society has entered a new stage of modernity where the risks humans face and must take reflexive preventive measures against are risks that we created through industrialisation and scientific advancement.^[20] In this regard, it can be argued that governments experimenting with radioactive sources in the twentieth century did so out of the belief that the potential benefits justified the various risks, so long as enough reflexive precaution was taken. However, in cases like Windscale, the politics of the Cold War encouraged governments on either side to take fewer cautions against the health risks posed by their nuclear projects. The fact that Windscale and the Mayak facility were producing the exact same type of bomb, were both pushed beyond their limits, and faced catastrophes within two weeks of each other drives this point home even further.^[21]

Overall, the Windscale fire and its similarities to concurrent Soviet nuclear accidents show how the Cold War incentivised governments to disregard the risks posed by this new aspect of modernity and prioritise their political reputations over the safety of their citizens. Perhaps then, another topic worth exploring in connection to these disasters would be that of inequality within a risk society. After all, in the case of Windscale, it was not the people most likely to be affected by the fire who were deciding what risks should be taken with the reactor. In fact, the members of government who had put pressure on the factory to produce plutonium faster were keen to reflexively mitigate political risks by clearing their own names of any accountability for the fire, namely by shifting the blame onto the pile operators’ ‘misjudgement’.^[22] Ultimately, the only misjudgement at Windscale was that of the government’s for believing that they could push a nuclear reactor to its limits without consequences.

^[1] Richard Wakeford. “The Windscale Reactor Accident—50 Years On.” Journal of radiological protection 27, no. 3 (2007). p.213
^[2] John Dumbrell. A Special Relationship: Anglo-American Relations from the Cold War to Iraq, 2nd ed. (Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan, 2006). p.11
^[3] Margaret Gowing and Lorna Arnold. Independence and Deterrence: Britain and Atomic Energy, 1945-1952, Vol. 1. Policy Making. (London: Macmillan Press, 1974). pp.184-185
^[4] Brian Wynne, and British Society for the History of Science. Rationality and Ritual: The Windscale Inquiry and Nuclear Decisions in Britain. (Chalfont St. Giles: The Society, 1982). p.17
^[5] Gowing and Arnold. Independence and Deterrence. p.119
^[6] Gowing and Arnold. Independence and Deterrence. p.185
^[7] Ian A. Clark. Nuclear Diplomacy and the Special Relationship: Britain’s Deterrent and America, 1957-1962. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1994). p.2
^[8] Wynne. Rationality and ritual. pp.20-21
^[9] David Fishlock. “When Windscale burned: 50 years ago, the UK experienced the first of three major reactor accidents that were to have global influence on the industry’s development”. Nuclear Engineering International, Vol. 52, Issue. 639. (2007). p.36
^[10] Fishlock. “When Windscale burned”. p.36
^[11] Lorna Arnold. Windscale 1957: Anatomy of a Nuclear Accident, edition 2. (London: Macmillan Press,1995). p.15
^[12] Wynne. Rationality and ritual. p.21
^[13] Wakeford. “The Windscale Reactor Accident”. p.212
^[14] Wolff, Arthur H. “Milk Contamination in the Windscale Incident.” Public Health Reports (1896-1970) 74, no. 1 (1959). p.43
^[15] Richard Wakeford. “A double diamond anniversary – Kyshtym and Windscale: the nuclear accidents of 1957”. Journal of Radiological Protection, vol.37, no.3. (2017). pp.9-10
^[16] Steve Jones. “Health Effects of the Windscale Pile Fire.” Journal of radiological protection 36, no. 4. (2016). p.24
^[17] Wakeford. “A double diamond anniversary”. pp.7-10
^[18] Arnold, Windscale 1957. pp.40-41
^[19] Wakeford. “A double diamond anniversary”. p.7
^[20] Ulrich Beck. “Living in the world risk society”. Economy and Society, 35:3. (2006). pp.332-333
^[21] Wakeford. “A double diamond anniversary”. p.11
^[22] Fishlock. “When Windscale burned”. p.36