"Hell No, We Won't Glow"

"Hell No, We Won't Glow" But the antinuclear movement strikes some sparks

With varying degrees of apathy, Washington has witnessed demonstrations by coal miners, farmers, chiropractors and bird watchers, by mimes protesting the imprisonment of six mimes in Spain, Tibetan-Americans complaining about their passports, and Strippers for Christ. But last week, in the wake of one of the largest marches since the Viet Nam era, in which more than 70,000 people assembled to protest the proliferation of nuclear-power plants, the capital began wondering whether an important movement may be in the process of being born.

The most concrete evidence of such a process was the unexpected approval by the House Interior Committee of a six-month moratorium on all new nuclear plant construction or licensing. Chairman Morris Udall had urged postponement of the vote until after a full investigation of the accident at Three Mile Island, Pa. But he found conservative Republicans joining liberal Democrats to pass the measure, and the full House is expected to pass it as well. Said Udall afterward: "The potential is there for making nuclear power the centerpiece of politics in 1980. It has an intensity of its own." Representative Edward Markey, 32, a Democrat from Maiden, Mass., who proposed the moratorium, was in his district last month talking to a man in his 70s. "You know," the old man told him, "I think those kids may be right again."

The Udall committee's concern about nuclear power was based at least in part on a tour by some of the members of the crippled Pennsylvania plant last week. Three more human errors contributing to the accident were disclosed: 1) The operators not only shut off the auxiliary feed-water system two days before the accident but also mistakenly indicated on their check sheets that the water had been promptly restored. (Explained one supervisor later: "I thought I completed that.") 2) A light that warned of the water shut-off was not seen for eight minutes because it was blocked by a tag hanging from a switch above it. 3) The first indication of real trouble, a hydrogen explosion during the first few hours of the accident, went unnoticed by federal inspectors even though a recording gauge registered it. The staff of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission later confirmed that such human errors turned what might have been a minor malfunction into a major breakdown.

Last week it was also demonstrated that nuclear plants are vulnerable to sabotage, and that there are people sufficiently demented to attempt such an action. At the Surry plant, near Richmond, Va., someone poured what appeared to be sodium hydroxide, a corrosive chemical used for cleaning and purification, over stored fuel rods in an attempt to damage them. Two days later the plant was the subject of a bomb threat. Although it was not known who undertook these measures, the FBI was investigating.

President Carter, having once helped disassemble a damaged nuclear reactor core, apparently has no doubts about the effectiveness and necessity of nuclear power. But last Sunday's demonstration reminded him of the antinuclear movement's possible political strength. Although he had declined an invitation to speak at the rally, he afterward invited the organizers to a quickly called meeting at the White House. "It is out of the question to pre-emptively shut all nuclear plants in the country," he told them, but he did say he would like to "minimize the requirement for nuclear power" and to shift toward "alternate energy supplies." Criticized Rally Organizer Donald Ross: "We told him he had to take a much more decisive antinuclear position." Translating such views into campaign terms, one Congressman predicted to colleagues in the House cloakroom: "Every one of us who doesn't come out against nuclear energy is going to face at least one candidate in the primaries who will make that his only issue."

Like many protest movements, the antinuclear battle began on the local level. Loosely knit coalitions of environmentalists, '60s rebels, disaffected youths, and newly politicized Middle Americans began organizing to fight power plants sprouting in their backyards. Three years ago, there was the Clamshell Alliance harassing the unfinished nuclear plant in Seabrook, N.H. More than a dozen other local alliances followed, named Oyster Shell and Conchshell, Catfish and Abalone. They formed loose ties with scientists unhappy with the handling of the country's nuclear-power program, such as the Cambridge-based Union of Concerned Scientists. The movement affected a wide coalition of national organizations: environmentalists like the Sierra Club, Friends of the Earth and Mobilization for Survival, antiwar groups like the War Resisters League, consumer groups like Ralph Nader's Public Interest Research Group, and economic activists like Tom Hayden's Campaign for Economic Democracy and William Winpisinger's Machinist's Union. Says Friends of the Earth mid-Atlantic Representative Lorna Salzman: "What we have here is a grass roots movement, one that includes students, farmers, engineers and the middle class." Noticeably lacking, however, have been the poor and minorities.

Three Mile Island brought cohesion to the antinuclear movement. A few days after the incident, plans for a march were made at a hastily called meeting in Washington, sponsored by Nader's group. "This represented a real turning point for the movement," says Tim Massad, one of the organizers. "Before this we had a network of groups on the local level. But now we see people directing mass action at the President and Congress, the people ultimately responsible for Harrisburg, instead of individual utilities." The "May 6 Coalition" initially raised $20,000 from foundations such as the Stern Fund and other private contributors, and collected $100,000 at the march itself to cover most costs.

One of the movement's chief theoreticians, Washington University Professor Barry Commoner, was among the organizers. Says he: "I was floored by the size of the demonstration. This issue has become a dominant, broad public issue for the first time."

The slogans of the sunny Sunday on Capitol Hill were reminiscent of decades past, but subtle differences reflected the more mellow mood. "Two-four-six-eight, we don't want to radiate," the crowd chanted, and, "Hell no, we won't glow."

There was the '60s spirit without the anger. The Frisbees and beer, the demonstrators working on their suntans, the organic food vendors and the costumes gave a festive air to the protest. For some this confirmed the feeling that what looks like a movement may merely be the rites of spring mixed with a nostalgic search for a new issue. Said Student Charlie Harrison: "I'm here to hear the music." Said Stephanie Klein: "I imagine this is what the '60s were like. It's kind of exciting." But most of those involved saw it differently. Said Pam Libby, who was on one of the 35 buses from Boston: "This was more than a cultural event, more than a musical event. This was a political event. We're going to turn this country's energy policy around."

The theme chosen for the march, "No More Harrisburgs," was broad enough to umbrella the still nebulous philosophy of the movement. Said Organizer Massad: "Some groups want an immediate, total shutdown of all nuclear plants. Some prefer a phase-out to reduce the economic shock, and others want a moratorium until future health and hazard studies are done." The most notable political figure among the demonstrators--and among such familiar protest figures as Jane Fonda,Tom Hayden,Dick Gregory and Bella Abzug--was California's Governor Jerry Brown, who called for a moratorium on new plants but not a shutdown of existing ones. Says he: "I'm at the forefront of the antinuclear movement."

It may turn out, of course, that with the passing of spring there will be little movement to lead. The intensity of the antiwar protests or even of the ERA and abortion rallies, has not materialized. Students, the usual backbone of demonstrations, seem ambivalent. Many liberal and labor groups are dubious. Says James Wall, Carter's 1976 Illinois campaign manager:

"The poorer segments of our society would be the first to suffer if we closed factories, raised the price of gasoline, or otherwise added to the cost of maintaining our energy-related existence." The first couple of weeks in June, when many antinuclear protests are scheduled on the local level around the country, will show the true strength of the movement.

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