The moves to deal with the contamination began in the wake of the Royal Commission when a group known as the Technical Assessment Group (TAG), made up of British, American and Australian scientists and technicians, undertook extensive tests across a range of issues. TAG did not itself include formal Indigenous representation, as suggested by the Royal Commission, although Maralinga Tjarutja people were represented on the Maralinga Consultative Group, a broader forum to discuss all matters concerning the test sites.
TAG carried out six studies from 1986 to 1990, including inhalation studies, flora and fauna surveys and a detailed anthropological study. The group devised 27 clean-up options, preferring one that involved, in part, immobilising the waste in the Taranaki burial pits using an innovative technique known as in situ vitrification. Anderson reported on the outcome of the TAG investigations, in a New Scientist story on 17 November 1990. He highlighted TAG findings that suggested ‘Aboriginal children would receive doses of radiation more than 300 times the accepted limit if they were to live in the most highly contaminated regions of the former British nuclear test site at Maralinga in South Australia’. Anderson’s 1990 story also reported that the Australian Government was seeking compensation from the UK to help cover the cost of the clean-up.
It took three years. During those frustrating years – 1990 to 1993 – Moroney analysed the Roller Coaster data in detail, comparing them with the Pearce Report, the data generated by his ARL colleagues in 1984 and material that was emerging from TAG. In the process Moroney’s attitude to the British tests changed. This shift was profound and painful. He deeply resented the British lies and felt that he, personally, had been misled through years of loyal service. He became a bitter crusader for accountability and nearly single-handedly pointed out all the ways the British test authorities had been deceitful. In a series of reports, analyses and memoranda he summarised the issue in a way that Australia’s legal and scientific representatives were able to use.
Geoff Williams, who worked with Moroney for years, said the 1984 findings and the subsequent Roller Coaster revelations had been ‘a great eye-opener’ to Moroney and confirmed that he was angry. Ultimately he felt the British must have known and had ‘entirely hoodwinked him and his committee … John felt very let down by the British because he felt that it was a relationship of trust.
He trusted the British, he felt the British trusted him, and there was this great breach of trust where they had really done things out at Maralinga that he wasn’t aware of’.
After Anderson, acting upon his chance conversation with Williams, decided to pursue the story, he interviewed Williams and Peter Burns together. In a recording of the interview, Anderson can be heard quietly but determinedly directing the two radiation scientists to tell their detailed and damning story. The scientists were calm but displeased. They were frustrated that their work back in 1984, the following Royal Commission and the extensive, exhaustive work by TAG all seemed to be coming to nothing. Williams later observed in 2004, ‘We all felt originally that the British were going to get away scot-free again’. Certainly, in 1993, it was by no means certain that the truth would out.
Anderson portrayed the interviews as ‘a cat and mouse game’ because he was denied direct access to the declassified Roller Coaster documents. He had gone to his first meeting at ARL expecting to be shown the documents, but he never saw them. He said in his application for the Michael Daley awards, ‘After that setback, it was a matter of piecing together the main thrust of the documents from what Moroney’s colleagues at ARL felt they could say’. He said, ‘My sources wouldn’t always tell me what was right, but would indicate when something I put to them was wrong’. The existing tape recording does not bear this statement out, however. The interview sounds more open – Williams and Burns were talkative, informative and expansive. Anderson was likely unhappy he could not see the actual Roller Coaster documents himself, and it possibly coloured his perception. He believed that a ‘senior bureaucrat’ in Canberra had prevented him from getting the documents.
A cat-and-mouse game is certainly evident in a taped telephone interview between Anderson and an unidentified contact, however. The source was obviously a ministerial adviser who could have been any of several advising Crean at the time. Anderson (IA) was trying to find out from the unknown interviewee (UI) how much compensation was being sought from the UK.
IA:
So are we going for this $101 million?
UI:
Thereabouts, yes.
IA:
But how much are we asking them for?
UI:
A substantial contribution. You would have seen the newspaper reports about that.
IA:
There was something in the Canberra Times about $60 million I think it was.
UI:
That’s inaccurate. In fact most of the newspaper reports are inaccurate – most have guessed at what a ‘substantial proportion’ is.
IA:
Okay, well what is it then?
UI:
Well, that’s the Australian Government’s position and up to negotiation between the two governments. We’ve told them what we are expecting – all we’ve been saying is that we are expecting a substantial …
IA:
So the idea of it being 50 per cent is not necessarily correct?
UI:
No, in fact that is quite incorrect. It is certainly a lot more than that.
IA:
A lot more than 50 per cent?
UI:
Yeah. Simon [Crean] spoke to a number of reporters who were out at Maralinga and they reported figures of anywhere from 50 per cent to three-quarters. I would suggest that three-quarters was a far closer figure.
In his story, Anderson noted a likely compensation payment from Britain of £33 million, a figure that was roughly three-quarters of the estimated total cost. The final amount provided by the UK Government was somewhat less – £20 million, or about A$45 million – just under half of the actual cost.
Moroney became ill around March 1993, and Anderson never met him, though they did speak by phone several times. What at first seemed to be a severe case of pneumonia turned out to be multiple myeloma. Moroney died within days of Anderson’s article coming out, aged only 63. He saw a draft of the story that Anderson sent to ARL for checking and clearance. The annotated draft of this document – constituting a revealing three-way conversation between Anderson, Moroney and the deputy news editor for New Scientist in London, Jeremy Webb – showed Moroney, in diplomatic language, savaging an early version of the story. He suggested that large swathes be removed, including the emphasis on the Pearce Report, which by now he had personally dismissed: ‘I don’t completely understand why we spend so much time debunking Pearce. Is this because the Brits still think this is the definitive study on Maralinga?’
In fact, the document showed that Moroney suggested that nearly 50 per cent of the draft article be cut or greatly altered. Anderson disregarded most of these suggestions and changed only things that Moroney had shown were definitely wrong or skewed. One of Moroney’s colleagues was quoted in the article, and Moroney expressed some affront to him for allegedly stealing the limelight. Apart from this, though, he appeared happy with Anderson’s work, as were the other scientists who informed the story.
Anderson did not mention Moroney by name in the story, despite extensive dealings with him, which is a bit of a puzzle. Anderson later wrote an account of the article in which he said that ‘the story was confirmed by Moroney over the phone, although he did not want his name mentioned’, and so he used other names as sources. The gusto with which Moroney approached his ‘edit’ of the draft suggests he was not timid or media-shy. He had been shocked by the betrayal by the British that he had played a crucial role in revealing. Yet he did not ask for his name to be added when he looked over Anderson’s draft, despite suggesting major changes, and telling his colleagues that the credit for the uncovering should be his. The contradiction
may be explained by Moroney’s longstanding career in secret nuclear business, cut across by his anger at the British. Was he defensive about being seen as gullible now the lies were revealed? The truth is unclear.
Moroney was a complex character who straddled two distinct eras in Australian relations with Britain. He may not have given Anderson a definite signal about what credit he wanted, but he undoubtedly provided the deep background that gave Anderson’s story its authority. He wasn’t completely cut out either. Anderson mentioned Moroney in his ABC Radio National Science Show broadcast, and in his application for the Michael Daley awards for science journalism. And Moroney was due to appear on ABC TV’s 7.30 Report when the story appeared, but this was cancelled because of his ill health.
As mentioned, Anderson’s article was published at a crucial time in the Australian ministerial-level negotiations with the British Government on Maralinga compensation. Simon Crean’s staff faxed the article to him in Europe, and it appears to have had an impact, though how much is difficult to measure. Anderson, a modest man, confirmed later that year that the article ‘added to the moral pressure that parliamentarians and others were bringing to bear on the British government to acknowledge its responsibilities and pay up’. But Anderson said that while it might look otherwise, the timing was not a deliberate strategy: ‘There was no collusion and the article was never mentioned in the negotiations’. The story came out just five days before the bilateral talks.
For Geoff Williams the article pulled together, for the first time, many of the threads of the Maralinga story and, in Anderson’s words, was ‘the first public airing of the betrayal by the British’. Tim Thwaites, in his New Scientist obituary for Anderson, said he ‘put pressure on the UK Government to make a significant commitment to cleaning up the nuclear test site at Maralinga’. In an obituary in the Guardian, Philip Jones claimed that his ‘evidence, and the media attention engendered by the material in such a prestigious science journal, played a crucial role in the successful conclusion of the talks’. When ‘Britain’s dirty deeds’ first came out, the Guardian was one of several UK newspapers that cited it in stories on the Maralinga negotiations.
Maralinga featured prominently in the Australian media once the article came out, leading to a marked revival of interest in the aftermath of the British tests. This matched the earlier heated coverage when the Royal Commission was taking evidence in 1984 and when it reported in 1985. Anderson personally promoted the story in various ways. On the Science Show he gave a radio-friendly summary about the significance of the article, saying, ‘Australia, represented by foreign minister Gareth Evans and energy minister Simon Crean, will present a strong and compelling case to Whitehall’. He also credited John Moroney and his lengthy involvement with Maralinga. He wrapped up his Science Show talk with a flourish:
If Australia is right, Britain misled a true and trusted ally and that ally is now paying for that trust. In monetary terms, Australia itself is facing large payouts as veterans of the British atomic tests at Maralinga press their claims in court. But will Britain pay its share for another clean up? Will it pay compensation to the Aborigines? Recent statements in the British Parliament suggest that it will not. It will stick to its belief that its obligations have been met. It’s just not cricket.
Australian metropolitan newspapers picked up the allegation of British deceit and the abundance of abandoned plutonium at Maralinga. A feature in the Sydney Morning Herald on 10 June 1993, prompted by a preview of Anderson’s story, revealed the fascinating fact that Dr Mike Costello, who worked for TAG, had probably helped create the Maralinga plutonium that was now causing so much controversy. The story reported that Costello had been a chemical engineer who had worked on plutonium for the UK Atomic Energy Authority in the late 1950s. The next day, a news article in The Age said the negotiations with Britain ‘could have been strengthened by new evidence’ in Anderson’s story and quoted the South Australian minister for Aboriginal Affairs Kym Mayes saying, ‘the British Government could not ignore the magazine’s allegations’.
Anderson’s article was not the only source of pressure on the UK Government, however. In 1993, a delegation of Aborigines from the Maralinga lands (including the prominent Indigenous activist Archie Barton) had arrived bearing sand from the region – not actually contaminated sand – which they placed on the steps of the British Houses of Parliament. British parliamentarians, notably the outspoken minister of state for the Armed Forces Archie Hamilton, had been asserting that the 1967 clean-up had been effective. Their message was undermined, though, when the government called in people wearing full contamination suits to remove the sand from the steps. As Peter Burns remarked, ‘They had said it was all right to live in this sand 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, camp in it, eat in it, hunt in it. But as soon as they put a few kilos on the steps they got guys in decontamination suits. Talk about a PR disaster’.
Pat Davoren, at the time responsible for co-ordinating the development and presentation of Australia’s Maralinga case to Britain, confirmed the impact of Aboriginal delegations outside parliament at various times during the dispute: ‘I got the impression from British Ministry of Defence officials that these visits did have some effect (they wished they would stop!)’.
Anderson’s story was timely, terse and filled with cross-checked data. Its sub-heading summed it up: ‘Fresh evidence suggests that Britain knew in the 1960s that radioactivity at its former nuclear test site in Australia was worse than first thought. But it did not tell the Australians’. The two-page news feature had a generic picture of an A-bomb mushroom cloud, a graphic map of the radiation plumes that emanated from the Taranaki test site and a picture of two unidentified scientists collecting samples during the 1984 survey at Maralinga. The science was deftly woven into the politics and the history:
Burns and his colleagues now believe that contamination at Maralinga is much worse than Britain has admitted. They say 21 pits, which were dug to hold radioactive waste, contain far less plutonium than Britain maintains. The remaining plutonium – ten times more than Britain has acknowledged – was spread over the land. The Australians will say that if they had known the full extent of the pollution, they would never have signed the agreement releasing Britain from its responsibilities over the cleanup.
Jeremy Webb, who edited the article, having quite a bit of input, as was usual for New Scientist editors, remembered its bombshell effect. He noted that publishing just before the bilateral meetings was critical in creating a storm: ‘The injustice was blatant and the story was widely covered. Obviously the British government would have preferred it if the negotiations had gone on in secret. But suddenly the talks were in the media spotlight with news outlets and the public wanting to know how the wrongs would be righted’. The management of the magazine was well pleased, he said. ‘There was a great sense of pride at New Scientist that we had helped to make a difference.’
Brian Toohey had opened a multi-faceted story to media examination back in 1978. Now Ian Anderson’s contribution had provoked a new round of public and political pressure, leading to a compensation agreement with Britain. Anderson appeared in many Australian media outlets when the story was released. He told Tony Delroy’s audience on ABC Radio National’s late evening show on 10 June, ‘This story as you know has been bubbling away for quite some time. Little bits and pieces have come out. What we have got here I think is just a pulling of it together’. He also discussed how the recently declassified documents had helped to bring out the truth.
Asked by Delroy about the forthcoming intergovernmental meeting in London, Anderson continued his favoured cricketing theme as he pondered the battle ahead: ‘A very tough fight, yes. Ironically the Australians will be doing battle with the Brits at Lords the same time won’t they?’ He pointed to a debate on 1 April in the UK parliament, discussed in his story, which had made clear that the British believed the 1968 agreement and the Brumby clean-up had fulfilled their responsibilities. The British had also deni
ed that they were responsible for compensation to the Aborigines.
In the debate, Archie Hamilton had stood up in the House of Commons and maintained that Britain should not and would not pay. He had quoted from the 1968 agreement signed by the governments of Australia and the UK:
The United Kingdom government have completed decontamination and debris clearance at the Atomic Weapons Proving Ground Maralinga to the satisfaction of the Australian government … With effect from 21 December 1967, the United Kingdom government are released from all liabilities and responsibilities under Memorandum of Arrangements save that the United Kingdom will continue to indemnify the Australian government in accordance with Clause 11 of Memorandum in respect of claims for which the cause of action took place after 7 March 1956 and before 21 December 1967.
(Clause 11 specifically guaranteed to provide compensation for claims of death, injury or property damage sought by British government employees only, something that the Australian Government had agreed to despite an initial weak protest.) Hamilton had also mentioned how Britain had already repatriated half a kilogram of plutonium from the site in 1979, and how this was followed by an ‘exchange of notes’ that stated there was ‘no question of the United Kingdom having any further responsibility to repatriate waste’.
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