Downwind is an unflinching tale of the atomic West that reveals the intentional disregard for the inhabitants and the environment in nuclear testing by the federal government and in uranium extraction by mining corporations during and after the Cold War.
Sarah Alisabeth Fox interviews residents of the Great Basin region affected by environmental contamination from the uranium industry and nuclear testing fallout. Those residents tell tales of communities ravaged by cancer epidemics, farmers and ranchers economically ruined by massive crop and animal deaths, and Native miners working in dangerous conditions without proper safety equipment so that the government could surreptitiously study the effects of radiation on humans.
In chilling detail, Downwind brings to light the stories and concerns of these groups whose voices have been silenced and marginalized for decades in the name of “patriotism” and “national security.”
With the renewed boom in mining in the American West, Fox’s look at this hidden history, unearthed from years of field interviews, archival research, and epidemiological studies, is a must-read for every American concerned about the fate of our western lands and communities.
Seattle author Sarah Fox is a folk historian, mother, and waitress. She holds a Master’s Degree in History and Folklore from Utah State University and a Bachelors Degree in American Studies from the Evergreen State College. Her work has appeared in Montana: The Magazine of Western History, the Western Historical Quarterly, and Sunspace. Her first book, Downwind: A People’s History of the Nuclear West, the product of ten years of research, was published by University of Nebraska Press in November 2014 (www.downwindhistory.com). Sarah continues to gather testimonies documenting the experiences of American Westerners living with the impacts of radiological exposure. She speaks on Downwind regularly to students, community groups, book clubs, and nonprofits, and teaches workshops on her methodology as a writer and folk historian. Follow Downwind on facebook (www.facebook.com/downwindapeopleshistory and twitter (@downwindhistory).
Utah’s history with nuclear energy and mining continues to affect its residents today. The community of Clive, Utah could soon house¬ a nuclear waste disposal site owned by Salt Lake City-based EnergySolutions. Blue Castle Holdings is intent on building a nuclear power plant that uses water from the Green River to cool its reactors, even though community activists have filed multiple lawsuits to block the company from doing so. More often than not in these situations, the public only hears the side of the corporations and government agencies involved. In her book, Downwind: A People’s History of the Nuclear West, author Sarah Alisabeth Fox gives voice to another side: the individuals that have been directly affected by the nuclear industry.
In Downwind, Fox seeks to provide a platform for people referred to as “downwinders”—residents of the Four Corners region of Utah, including Native Americans who were employed to mine uranium and others whose health and livelihoods have been affected by nuclear testing. The majority of these people were not informed of the dangers of nuclear testing and mining, and their stories were often silenced in the name of patriotism. Each chapter in Downwind features an account from someone who has been affected by nuclear testing, as well as a historical backdrop to frame their account within a larger narrative.
Fox’s writing is approachable and she does an excellent job of letting each person’s story take center stage. While many books about the environment are either too light-hearted or too bogged down by scientific terms, Downwind provides a good balance of scientific evidence with personal narratives, making it approachable to those who might not otherwise be familiar with its subject matter. Readers should keep in mind that the book takes a very definitive stance against nuclear testing and mining, and has a strong message of environmental conservation.
Those interested in seeing another side to Utah’s nuclear history will find Downwind: A People’s History of the Nuclear West to be a thoroughly thought-provoking and engaging read.
Stephanie Howell is a Library Assistant at the Salt Lake City Public Library. To find this and similar reading ideas within the Library’s catalog, or for more info on The City Library’s programs and services, visit slcpl.org.
Very informative, eye-opening, and disturbing. Sad that this nation resorted to so many of the same tactics during the Cold War that we accused the Soviet Union and it's Allies of perpetrating. Makes you want to shake your head and wonder why we let fear possess us to the point where we do more damage to ourselves as a nation than any perceived enemy has accomplished.
During and after World War Two, a series of nuclear tests were conducted in the American Southwest. A small number were conducted underground, while the vast majority were done in the desert. Several of these detonations were actually larger than the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Despite official pronouncements that these tests wouldn’t harm people, the tests were still intentionally conducted when winds were favorable to Las Vegas and other larger cities. This, naturally, was done to limit the exposure of densely populated areas to the fallout and airborne atomic debris. Those on the receiving end of these blasts—and thus those forced to endure the most consequences—became known as “downwinders.” Journalist Sarah Alisabeth Cox sets out to document the stories of these people—their personal battles with cancer and larger battles with the faceless bureaucracies that imperiled their lives. She interviews native Americans whose languages lack even a word for “radiation”—indigenous people who were exploited in uranium mines and left with little to show for their toil. She also interviews Anglos of the region, especially members of the Mormon church, whose patriotism caused them to initially support the nuclear tests, and later to feel betrayed. She contrasts these demotic and firsthand remembrances with the official histories disseminated by PR flaks and military spooks. In doing so, she interrogates the truth value of both kinds of accounts, wondering which is superior (if either) and if a synthesis between the two might be possible. If the griotic is tainted by hyperbole and eroded by time’s passage, is it still trustworthy? Can people whose own children have been claimed by cancer remain dispassionate or objective about atomic testing, nuclear power, and its application as a military deterrent? And what of the official histories? Are they merely self-serving fictions created out of greed and coldhearted militarism disguised as pragmatism in defense of the State? These are complicated questions, and it’s a complicated tale. It’s also a tragic read, filled with stories of both bravery and fatalistic resignation. It is hard to read page after page describing people dying—especially children—under such excruciating circumstances. It is also infuriating, and probably necessary to continue pursuing the subject, no matter how unpleasant it may be. With nuclear war still a very real possibility and hunger for cheap and abundant energy more insatiable than ever, these issues need to be addressed. If there is a way to mine uranium more safely—i.e. in situ leaching—then that needs to be pursued. Conversely, if it’s taken as a given that the process is dangerous but necessary, it finally needs to be addressed in those terms. Regardless, the lore collected here makes fascinating reading, especially when juxtaposed against the dodging and evasion of military brass and legal obfuscators. Seeing lies and truths side by side makes for quite the contrast. Recommended, with photos and illustrations, including a lot of “atomic kitsch” from the period in question, back when all things nuclear were treated as cute and optimistic. It’s a time and an attitude toward the atom unlikely ever to return, regardless of how safe the processes of fission or fusion may one day prove. If indeed that day ever arrives.
Sarah Alisabeth Fox’s “Downwind” is a haunting and meticulously researched account of the human and environmental toll exacted by nuclear testing and uranium extraction in the American West during and after the Cold War. She combines oral histories, archival research, and epidemiological insights, bringing life to the “downwinders,” anyone in the Great Basin region whose lives were irrevocably altered by radioactive fallout and environmental contamination.
Fox, a folklorist and historian, delivers a compelling narrative that underscores the failures of scientific oversight, the government’s reckless prioritization of national security over human lives, and its persistent efforts to downplay the catastrophic consequences. Her work is grounded in the voices of the downwinders themselves. Native American and non-Native residents, ranchers, farmers, and miners whose lives were upended by the fallout from nuclear tests conducted primarily at the Nevada Test Site between 1951 and 1963.
She also touches on those who were employed by the uranium industry that fueled the nuclear arsenal. She captures tales of communities ravaged by cancer epidemics, livestock decimated by mysterious illnesses, and economic ruin from crop failures. She vividly describes the surreal spectacle of nuclear detonations—blinding flashes that lit up pre-dawn skies, shock waves rattling windows miles away, and reddish-gray clouds dumping radioactive particles on unsuspecting communities.
One of book’s most compelling arguments is its exposure of the scientific failures that exacerbated the nuclear tragedy. The U.S. Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) and other scientific bodies operated under flawed assumptions about radiation’s effects. When combined with government’s willingness to risk thousands of lives for the perceived benefit of millions, Fox calls out the cold calculus that deemed rural and indigenous populations expendable in the name of national security. Tests were deliberately scheduled when winds blew fallout away from urban centers like Las Vegas. The government’s efforts to cover up and minimize damages is also a recurring theme. Fox documents how the AEC suppressed data, classified incriminating documents, and dismissed lawsuits by citing technicalities rather than engaging with evidence.
While gripping throughout most of its chapters, the final chapter and conclusion falters. Here, Fox shifts from the intimate narratives of downwinders to broader discussions of post-testing developments, such as advancements in radiation science and shifts in public opinion. While these topics are relevant, they lack the emotional resonance of the personal stories that drive the book’s earlier sections.
The conclusion, in particular, feels somewhat detached, offering reflections on environmental humanities and the need for continued storytelling that, while insightful, don’t match the urgency of the downwinders’ voices. This tapering off slightly dilutes the book’s impact, though it doesn’t overshadow its overall power.
Detailed first hand accounts of what it was like to live downwind of atomic test sites. I am thankful that someone took time to record many of these testimonies before they were lost. It is hard to believe that nuclear testing was treated with nonchalant attitudes for so long, and I fear it may return in my lifetime. As we move farther away from the age of above ground nuclear testing, this book will become increasingly important as a reminder that we as a collective society do not want to resume such testing.
If you love a good people's history telling, this is it. Fox entwines you with downwinders' lives that you can't walk away unchanged from their stories.
A well-researched and well/ written book documenting the irradiation of residents of Utah, Arizona and New Mexico by US Atomic Energy Agency during the 50's and early 60's. Author discusses the levels of deceit and manipulation used by the US government to intimidate Native Americans, small garners and ranchers as well as townspeople.
Scary book! Amazing what crazy things we did in the West in the early days of the nuclear era. There are more casualties, especially among the less powerful and valued members of our society, than we may ever know.