193

The number 193 occupies a big and sad place in the consciousness of Polynesians.  193.  That’s the number of nuclear explosions set off by Mother France in these atolls in the name of research. 

From 1966 to 1996, France undertook a nuclear testing program, detonating 193 nuclear tests in the Tuamotus – specifically on the Moruroa and Fangataufa atolls in the southeast of the archipelago.

For thirty years, in the face of protests by helpless inhabitants and international condemnation, the tests continued. In the first nine years, 41 atmospheric tests were conducted – three nuclear explosive devices were detonated on barges in the lagoon, three were air dropped from bombers, and the rest were suspended from helium filled balloons and exploded over the atoll. By 1975, intense world pressure sent the program underground. Literally underground. Another 146 nuclear devices were exploded in shafts under the ocean floor.

The 30-year program brought environmental devastation to the fragile region – the full extent of which may never be known. Local Polynesians, in the Tuamotus and elsewhere throughout the region, site workers and French military were all exposed to high levels of radiation.  193 times, over 30 years.

To much fanfare, then President-General De Gaulle himself was present for the first launch – the only person for whom anti-radiation protective suiting was made available, while site workers and locals wore shorts and tees.  De Gaulle left the site and returned to France one hour after that first explosion, having congratulated the French military on their great success. Subsequent Presidents stayed clear of the contaminated sites, although France continued the nuclear testing program for thirty years, including two major explosions ordered by President Jacques Chirac as late as 1995. 

After decades of denial, France joined the rest of the world in acknowledging that some 23 cancers, infertility and other horrible illnesses are indeed caused by radiation exposure. In 2010, France finally established a compensation program. As reported in The Guardian, by 2021, the program had rejected more than 80% of the submitted claims and paid only meagre compensation to just 454 people – only 63 of whom were local Ma’ohi residents – the rest having been paid to French program workers and military personnel. 

Nuclear poisoning was not limited to the Tuamotus. It extended westward to Tahiti and the Society Islands. Based on the most recent data – reviewed, recalculated and reinterpreted in a major scientific study in 2021 – it is now estimated that over 110,000 Polynesians received radiation doses 2 to 10 times higher than the qualifying level for compensation – virtually the entire population of French Polynesia at that time. In addition, many radiation illnesses have been passed on to children and grandchildren of those directly exposed.

Still, the people of French Polynesia wait for France to take responsibility and to address the wrongs imposed on them by the French nuclear program.   Many families have given up hope of ever penetrating the bureaucratic charade that is the compensation program.

It’s no wonder then that the pro-independence Tavini party won the recent general election in French Polynesia. Pro-independence has been gaining favour gradually over the last few decades. The Tavini party has twice formed a minority government, but never lasted a full term.  Now it will sit for the first time with a solid majority, having won 38 of 57 seats in the Assembly of French Polynesia. 

The legacy of the French nuclear program, and France’s continued failure to recognize and compensate for injury and death in the atolls, is a major rallying point for the call for independence from France. But it isn’t the only one.

This independence movement here in French Polynesia – it’s different than similar movements at home in Quebec, or in Catalonia Spain, where the movement is centred on the protection of a French language, culture and nationality within the predominantly English or Spanish nation.  Here in French Polynesia, it’s different – it’s an indigenous movement by French-speakers away from Mother France in favour of connecting with their spiritual cousins throughout the South Pacific – Hawaii, Cook Islands, New Zealand, Micronesia and Melanesia – all of them predominantly English speaking.

The independence movement here is clearly driven in part by anger at France, and it is no coincidence that independence sentiment in French Polynesia gained real momentum in the late 70s, in the wake of nuclear devastation perpetrated by the Motherland. But there’s another more positive side to the independence movement here.

The quest for independence is not just anti-France. It’s also pro-Polynesia, fuelled by a lively resurgence of Polynesian culture and traditions. The dazzling fervour that we observed in the Marquesas for the revival of their indigenous languages, arts and culture – including dance, sculpture, tatouage – is a joyful and celebratory expression of the independence movement.

It remains to be seen how all this socio-political excitement will play out. While I’m loving the romance of Ma’ohi resurgence and lamenting the nuclear backdrop of pain, the tax lawyer in me can’t quite square the fiscal reality of an independent Polynesia wtithout the French.