Phosphoros et Sapientia

“Our eyes Are armed, but we are strangers to the stars, And strangers to the mystic beast and bird, And strangers to the plant and to the mine. The injured elements say, “Not in us;” And night and day, ocean and continent, Fire, plant and mineral say, “Not in us;” And haughtily return us stare for stare. For we invade them impiously for gain; We devastate them unreligiously, And coldly ask their pottage, not their love. —Ralph Waldo Emerson from the poem Blight I bless the mountain by asking the mountain to bless us. —Corbin Harney Western Shoshone Spiritual Leader”
― Valerie Kuletz, The Tainted Desert: Environmental and Social Ruin in the American West

“Paiute individuals, as well as individuals from other Indian tribes, have reported increased incidences of cancer on their reservations and “colonies.” Increased numbers of birth defects have also been noted. Most historians and government officials have ignored the presence of certain populations at risk in areas of nuclear weapons development and testing—populations whose subsistence economies depend heavily on land resources, including its flora, fauna, and water. This neglect is not accidental. When not deliberately part of official secrecy, it reveals an all-too-familiar pattern of disregard for the people that inhabit these desert areas, masking an exploitation of their land that goes back to the beginning of the so-called westward expansion. This is a landscape—a nuclear landscape—too often ripened by sacrifice, for sacrifice, shrouded in secrecy, and plundered of its wealth.”
― Valerie Kuletz, The Tainted Desert: Environmental and Social Ruin in the American West

“Suddenly it comes, the flaming globe, blazing on the pinnacles and minarets and balanced rocks, on the canyon walls and through the windows in the sandstone fins. We greet each other, sun and I, across the black void of ninety-three million miles. The snow glitters between us, acres of diamonds almost painful to look at. Within an hour all the snow exposed to the sunlight will be gone and the rock will be damp and steaming. Within minutes, even as I watch, melting snow begins to drip from the branches of a juniper nearby; drops of water streak slowly down the side of the trailerhouse. I am not alone after all. Three ravens are wheeling near the balanced rock, squawking at each other and at the dawn. I’m sure they’re as delighted by the return of the sun as I am and I wish I knew the language. I’d sooner exchange ideas with the birds on earth than learn to carry on intergalactic communications with some obscure race of humanoids on a satellite planet from the world of Betelgeuse. First things first. The ravens cry out in husky voices, blue-black wings flapping against the golden sky. Over my shoulder comes the sizzle and smell of frying bacon. That’s the way it was this morning.”
― Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire

“Those who have attempted to inform the public about uranium mining and milling in the Four Corners area refer to the postwar period as a “hidden holocaust,” a tragic legacy of the Cold War. Still, today, few Americans are aware of this particular story of national sacrifice. Most tourists speak about the Four Corners area with admiration for its beauty and share the colonist’s fascination with its “picturesque” Indian cultures. Uranium fields aren’t on the AAA road map of Indian Country.”
― Valerie Kuletz, The Tainted Desert: Environmental and Social Ruin in the American West