Thursday, June 3, 2010

Reviewed: Our Toxic World


Our Toxic World
Project by Toxic Link
Script by Aniruddha Sen Gupta
Illustrations by Priya Kuriyan
Sage Publications (2010)
Four Green Stars (very good indeed)


Most of us don’t like to think about the poisons that surround us.  Oh sure, we may get worked up about radioactive material being sold in the scrap market.  But the stuff that kills us slowly is somehow easier to ignore.  As dirty as Delhi’s air is, we have to breathe, after all.  And even though we know that all kinds of toxic substances can be fatal, the ways in which they kill are typically not as easy to identify or understand as, say, a swift blow to the head with a blunt object. 

No, toxics are not exciting; they do their damage over a long period of time, through complex chains of events and interactions.  Because of this, they provoke both anxiety and boredom: a deadly combination for those trying to educate the public on the subject.

Toxic Link, a Delhi based NGO, has used a novel approach to confront this problem.  Working with Sage Publications, they’ve come out with Our Toxic World: A guide to hazardous substances in everyday lifeOur Toxic World is part informational text, part graphic novel. The narrative follows the Sachdeva family and other residents of Rohini East as they confront, in different ways, the toxins that surround us all.  From air pollution to heavy metals, from household waste to industrial pollution, this book covers a lot of ground. 

I read Our Toxic World in one sitting—it took just about two hours. It probably won't win the next Commonwealth Writers' Prize, but it held my interest throughout, which is quite an accomplishment, given the subject.  And I learned a lot.  Did you know that washing your vegetables thoroughly in running water is the best way to deal with the high level of contaminants they almost certainly contain? It's nice to know there are some things we can do that will help. I also learned that by the year 2050, residential, commercial and institutional buildings are expected to account for up to 38 percent of global energy consumption. Investing in green buildings makes more and more sense.

Our Toxic World is organized into sections that cover broad topics. Most include a short narrative, followed by some condensed informational text. Honestly, when I saw this book’s subtitle, “a guide to hazardous substances in our everyday lives,” I expected the stories in it to be…painful.  Fortunately, I found Aniruddha Sen Gupta’s script surprisingly effective.  The stories make sense; the dialogue works.  And the book is populated with a large cast of interesting characters.  They include a government factory inspector, an environmental activist, a housewife, an architectural apprentice, and a high school student. We get cameo appearances from a thoughtful auto rickshaw driver, a clean cop, several waste pickers, and many others.

Part of what makes this book work as well as it does is Priya Kuriyan’s art.  Without the illustrations, Our Toxic World would be nowhere near as interesting or easy to understand as it is.   I love the opening “City of Bones” sequence and the panels that show the widow of a construction worker remembering a visit with the Doctor who had treated her dying husband.  "Dust had eaten him away, transforming him into itself." This is powerful stuff.

I attended the Delhi launch of Our Toxic World back in April.  There was some debate about whether the book could be used in schools, and about whether it would be helpful to students.  I find myself agreeing with the people who said that it would work for children, if presented in the right way.  As one woman said, none of us understand everything we read, but we can all learn a lot by reading challenging things anyway.That includes children.

I suspect that many children will find the illustrations simply irresistible.  Though this book would probably be most effective for students 12 and up,  my own ten year old read it on his own,  just because he liked the pictures.  Later, when I asked him about it, he admitted he’d skipped most of the “complicated stuff” and “just read the stories.” But he volunteered several important things he’d learned, including three ways toxics can make kids sick (pesticides get into rivers and poison the fish people eat; children eat lead paint dust; and children suck on toys made out of poisonous stuff.). 

And if that’s not proof enough that this book can work with children, last night I overheard my sons debating the mosquito coil I offered: “No way, it’s toxic!” said one.

“That’s easy for you to say,” said the other.  “The mosquitoes don’t bite you!”  Yes, life confronts us with many difficult questions.  Our Toxic World won’t answer them all.  But it will get you thinking!
 ***

To learn more about the things that poison us, check out the Dhaba's brand new Toxics & Trash page.  And do check out theToxic Link website.  It's full of detailed, helpful information from people who have been working on this issue for years.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

A Phrase I Hate: Brand Ambassador

Of all the annoying phrases favoured by people who have spent too much time in or around business schools, I think brand ambassador has to be among the worst. Each time I hear it, I cringe and look for an exit. Sometimes I feel my blood pressure climb, or find myself breaking out in something like prickly heat. 

With a few exceptions, which we’ll come to later, this term is simply another name for a someone (usually, but not always a celebrity) who’s getting paid to endorse a brand. 

For a long time, I wasn’t sure exactly why this phrase had such a strong affect on me. After all, the concept isn’t new.  Before we had brand ambassadors, we just used other words to describe people who were paid to sell products: endorsers, hawkers, touts, pushers, salespeople… even sell outs!  None of those terms gave me a rash!  Does Kareena Kapoor love that bottle of Pepsi as much as it appears she does?  Is Aamir Khan truly devoted to Tata Sky and Coca Cola?  Who knows—but more importantly, who really cares? Not I, though plenty of people must, or we wouldn't see so much of them!

I think what I find so annoying is the way in which modern capitalism seems to be taking itself more and more seriously. Companies no longer stoop so low as to advertise their brands, but rather they engage in diplomatic relations with the modern, sophisticated consumer.  (And they expect newspapers to cover this diplomacy as if it were news—but that’s a story for another day.)

So I hate the term brand ambassador in part because it’s just so silly and self-important-sounding.  Still, what companies do to sell their products is really up to them.  Let the buyer beware, after all.  But it makes no sense at all for organizations like the World Wildlife Fund, to adopt this term, as they did in their recent Earth Hour Campaign. When I hear about this happening, I not only get a rash,but I begin mumbling mean things under my breath, and I often don't stop until Mrs. Batti or one of my children tell me to be quiet!

Let me be clear: I do not object to celebrities who support good causes—one has to assume they do it for free, and who knows, they may well make a difference.  Of course, we have to be careful not to put too much faith in the power these endorsements. It's great, I suppose, that  Abhishek Bachchan endorses Earth Hour.  But given the fact that he, as much as any film hero, stands for conspicuous consumption (and the well known fact that he will endorse nearly anything--from blue jeans to high tech gadgets to automobiles) how much can his word mean in this context? In any case, the backbone of any effective organization has to be the activists and leaders who do the day-to-day organizing on the ground.  These are the real real heroes, and we should never forget that

But leaving aside celebrity endorsements, I just don't like it when people and organizations that stand for environmental or social justice adopt the language of corporations.  We should never say words like brand ambassador without throwing in a heavy dose of irony (as Greenpeace does, here).   Why?  Simple: we are not businesses, and we should allow no confusion about that point.  Our goal is change, not profit.  Yes, many good organizations need money to be effective. And some good businesses aim to profit responsibly by doing sustainable things.  That's great. But at the end of the day, the hearts and minds of the people we need to reach are not for sale.  Hearts and minds rarely are, and anyway if we fight on that ground, we are bound to lose, since we will never have as much money as the corporations that profit from over consumption and exploitation.

Likewise, our job is not to “sell a brand”—it’s to conceive, consider, and communicate ideasand to challenge the power of the people who stand against the earth and the right of all people to live sustainably on it..  For that, we need activists, spokespeople, and leaders; we do not need—will never need—salespeople, touts, hawkers, sell outs or brand ambassadors!
 ***
Is there a word or phrase you can't stand? Why not comment? You'll get no money or fame around here, but it might be fun!

Sunday, May 30, 2010

Reviewed: The Caravan, A Journal of Politics and Culture

It seemed for a while that I kept running into people who wrote for Caravan, a relatively new, Delhi-based 'journal of politics and culture'.  Caravan writers seemed interesting, intelligent, and generally excited about their work—so much so, that I eventually asked my newspaper delivery man for a subscription.  

Overall, the writing is good—and in places, excellent.  Take Trisha Gupta’s review of Sukhnandi Vyam’s art, which was recently shown in Delhi.  Gupta gives us insight into the subject under review, written in prose that is itself a pleasure to read. What more can one ever really ask for from a reviewer? 

Maybe I liked this review so much because Gupta asks the same question I had when I saw this exhibit, only she asks it more articulately:

What happens when an artist’s ‘exterior visualisations’ cannot be mirrored in the minds of his public, because they share with him almost none of his cultural context? I do not know.

I don’t know either, but I wish I’d read this review before seeing the exhibit, which was, by the way, extraordinary.  

I wasn't able to make it to the exhibit of Adivasi art at the Quai Branly Museum in Paris, but I did very much enjoy Mira Kamdar's review of the show.  Kamdar looks at some of the same themes we see in Gupta's review, but from a different angle:
In the contemporary Adivasi artist’s vision, it is the West and, more specifically, Westernised India—urban, rapidly industrialising and privatising, globally connected and whose Promethean trajectory is ruthlessly enforced by the police and security forces—that is the object of an active subject’s representation. In the Adivasi artist’s world, we are among the observed, the depicted, the represented, as our world crashes into theirs. The art in the exhibition presents us with our own violent reality as seen by people who live at once on the margins of this reality and at its epicentre.
It is ironic, of course, to see Adivasi art celebrated abroad while Adivasi land and people are under attack here in India.  This irony is not lost on Kamdar:
The list of peoples who no longer exist but for what is exhibited of their culture in museums is very long. In its campaign to ‘pacify’ large tracts of land, now teeming with Maoist revolutionaries, where Adivasis have lived for millennia, in order to make that territory safe for lucrative mining and industrial ventures that involve the wholesale destruction of their land and way of life, the Indian government seems to be doing everything it can to make sure that the Adivasis join this list.
Kamdar's discussion of the art itself is compelling.  But what impressed me most is her willingness engage with the questions relating to the position of this art--and the artists who created it--in world beyond the exhibit hall.  


There is a lot more packed into this issue of Caravan, including a sympathetic but critical review of Zizek's First as Tragedy Then as Farce and a photo essay from behind Maoist lines. By the time I saw this new poem by Jeet Thayil, I'd pretty much decided that my forty rupees had been well spent.


But before I sound too enthusiastic, I must say that two stories which deal with issues of central concern to environmentalists are more problematic.  One of the headlines on the cover asks: “NREGA, 4 Years. 784 Billion Rupees.  Where is India’s Landmark Welfare Scheme Taking Us?” Also on the cover, we read: “Inside the Carbon Trading Shell Game.” 

Those headlines made me cringe.  Both play on themes commonly used by right wing media: NREGA is a waste of money, and efforts to fight climate change amount to “scams.”  After the hack job Open Magazine did on climate change back in February, I was ready for the worst.

As it turned out, neither article was offensive.  In 'NREGA'a Reality Check', Mehboob Jeelani rightly criticizes NREGRA for not going far enough and for being corrupt in many places, but the article also acknowledges that the program has vastly improved rural infrastructure’ and ‘still means a lot in rural India.’  In other words, a good idea that has been poorly implemented.  Or as welfare economist and activist Jean Dreze is quoted as saying, ‘NREGA is a pro-people law implemented by an anti-people system.’ That conclusion is hard to argue with, and it's implication is clear: we need to expand and democratize NREGA, not abandon it.  But you wouldn’t know that from the cover of the magazine—which is too bad, since the cover of a magazine like this is all many people will ever see.

'The Carbon Trading Shell Game' that we read about in Mark Schapiro's 'Conning the Climate', refers to the cap-and-trade system and the related 'carbon trading' and 'carbon offset markets that cap-and-trade engenders.  The article does a reasonably good job exposing the many problems with carbon trading markets, which are difficult to regulate and open to manipulation and corruption.  But aside from a passing mention of a carbon tax, Schapiro fails to look at alternatives to cap-and-trade.  As a result, the article feeds the idea that far reaching government-led action against climate change is futile.

Another thing that seemed strangely absent in this piece was a South Asian focus.  This seemed odd, since so much is happening right here in India—both in terms of climate change and carbon offsets.  In the end, the lack of a sustained local perspective was explained by the tag line which followed the piece: “Asia Features/Harper’s Magazine.”  Apparently, here is an example of Indian media outsourcing analysis to the US.

For a simpler, better explanation of cap-and-trade, watch Annie Leonard’s The Story of Cap and Trade.  And for a more in-depth look at the alternatives to cap-and-trade—as well as a local perspective on related issues—you’d be better off reading some of the posts on the Dhaba’s own climate page, here, if I do say so myself.

Unless a magazine is exceptionally good or bad, any judgments based on one issue only are bound to be provisional.  From what I've seen, the writing in Caravan ranges from fair to excellent.  And there's certainly a lot in it to choose from.  So far, I think I like it.  If the editors could only find a way to sell the magazine without resorting to misleading, right-wing sounding headlines, I’d feel a bit less…provisional about recommending it.

Thursday, May 27, 2010

Reviewed: An India That Can Say Yes

An India That Can Say Yes: A Climate Responsible Development Agenda for Copenhagen and Beyond
by Praful Bidwai

I've been reading and appreciating Praful Bidwai in Frontline for a long time;  just this week, I cited him several times in a post about the Nuclear Liability Bill.  But I didn't realize he'd written an important book about climate change, until Nagraj Adve sent me this review, a version of which was first published in the Economic and Political Weekly, 1 May 2010.

The review is well worth reading--and it sounds like the book is too.  And the price is right: you can get a free copy by contacting Mr Raghavan (k.v.raghavan@hbfasia.org) of the Heinrich Boell Foundation.  
 
India's Climate Policy: Development and Equity
by Nagraj Adve 

Global warming underlines myriad, interlinked issues, which play out at different levels. It’s a product of the logic of industrial capitalism. It will worsen by recent neoliberal development trajectories that rely hugely on the market. It’s enriched debates around equity and exposed the limits of nation-state frameworks in dealing with global ecological crises that have systemic roots. Given the absence of equity and justice therein, it’s exposed the poverty of both the development trajectory and climate policy of major governments. Its already severe impacts on ecosystems and people, in India (and beyond), and feedbacks at merely 0.8 degrees C of average warming, not merely exacerbates already existing crises faced by the poor but also highlights the dangers and possibility of runaway, dangerous levels of warming, and therein lies its urgency. The book under review deals for a good part with the hollowness of India’s climate policy, offers rich insights into notions of equity, comments on alternative climate proposals that have been discussed internationally, suggests low-carbon development strategies specifically in the Indian context, and much else. No secondary book on climate change and India can henceforth be written satisfactorily without reference to this one.

A nice overview of recent scientific developments is provided in chapter 1. Not so much in the Indian context – for which Sushil Kumar Dash’s Climate Change: An Indian Perspective (CUP, 2007) is a useful but more technical read – but a more general overview, one that is refreshingly up-to-date. It has few, if any, slippages: occasionally, it uses both CO2 and CO2-equivalent interchangeably, a common error; the 350 ppm target, which many countries and NGOs pushed for before and during Copenhagen as the safe level of atmospheric CO2, and which was the focus of a major demonstration worldwide in October 2009, refers not to CO2-eq but CO2.  

What’s more, though accepting 350 ppm as a safe cut-off target has James Hansen’s imprimatur, and one that many of us have endorsed in the recent past, as does Bidwai, it would be fair to say it is very much a minority view among climate scientists.

The chapters that follow subject India’s climate policy and public positions to relentless scrutiny from numerous vantage points. Bidwai analyses how the evolution of India’s climate policy has been influenced by domestic practices that recklessly promote natural resource extraction, and how it evolved within the larger frame of India’s shifting foreign policy, one that increasingly seeks a larger role in world affairs while cosying up to the world’s richer and most powerful nations particularly the United States. He points out anomalies in its strands, particularly in relation to equity. He reveals how it was arrived at completely undemocratically with little wider consultation. He demolishes the reliance on the market, both in the foregrounding of a market-led growth linked to a development trajectory that marginalizes millions and promotes deep social and regional inequality, and, more specifically, in terms of market mechanisms such as the CDM, actively being promoted in India, which do nothing but fraudulently enrich actually polluting industry.

Other parts examine specific missions that are part of the National Action Plan on Climate Change (NAPCC), particularly the National Solar Mission and the National Mission for Enhanced Energy Efficiency. He points out that the proposed massive expansion of solar power assumes huge unit cost reductions in photovoltaic power generation and technological breakthroughs. A penultimate chapter argues, rightly, that the only way of promoting an inclusive society in India free of hunger and gross injustice is through low-carbon, equitable development. Additionally, the preceding chapter, in the pre-Copenhagen context, which was when this book was being written, discusses various alternative proposals that have been put forward by numerous NGOs, activists, intellectuals and other, mostly non-state actors. Finally, it speaks as much for the myriad themes that global warming touches upon as for the width of Bidwai’s scholarship that the book contains a number of boxes on varied issues: looking critically at plans for carbon capture and storage; the flaws and dangers of nuclear power in India; the threshold temperature rise of 2 degrees C and the political controversy that then arose in India; the whackiness of geoengineering solutions being proposed and tested, including iron fertilization of a large patch of the southern oceans by the Indian government; why nuclear power is not a solution; the varied positions taken by different NGOs on climate change, and yet more. The extraordinarily wide range of issues discussed within makes this book an enriching one to read, but a difficult one to review. A short review can only touch upon a couple of important themes and ideas, and runs the risk of passing over others.

The only parts a bit thin on the ground were those that dealt with impacts in India. For instance, climate change impacts on agriculture, a hugely significant area, are discussed in one brief paragraph on page 27, and one wonders why. For one, some published scientific literature is available.(For example, this article by PK Aggarwal and The Hindu Survey of Indian Agriculture 2009.

Two, given the relative paucity of studies of impacts, there is a need to incorporate people’s perceptions of climate change and its impacts on their lives. This latter is a vast and tricky project, and obviously cannot be the burden of one writer alone, however accomplished. Here again though, published literature is beginning to emerge, though it is possible some of it has come out after Bidwai’s book was written. See for example, Jalvayu Parivartan, SADED and Oxfam, 2009, a compilation of testimonies at a public hearing on impacts of climate change on arid zone areas.

One of the key issues discussed, while critiquing India’s climate policy, is equity. India’s stand, he argues, is extremely limited in focusing merely on per capita emissions norms. A policy frame with a more rounded conception of equity would focus on ends, on equitable human development, on the right to live with dignity, and “therefore entitlements to the basic necessities of life. Taken in the context of India’s climate stands, one couldn’t agree with him more. But here and at different points in the book he stresses the limits of emissions rights itself: “an equal right to emit GHGs can only be a means to a higher end”. The point is well taken, but on the other hand, while discussing climate change with college students and others, we have found some merit in talking about the Earth’s absorption capacity (roughly 16-17 billion tonnes of CO2 per year currently and stagnating) and the need to divide that equitably among every person on this planet, resulting in each person being entitled to about 2-2.5 tonnes per year, thereby arguing that the poor everywhere are not the cause of the problem, but are actually entitled to more, to the very basic necessities of life that Bidwai talks about.

This also enables us to question nation-state frames of looking at and dealing with the problem, which is another key, linked issue Bidwai brings up. He discusses, rightly (pp. 65-68), how production itself has gotten fragmented and internationalized, how trade and exports make it difficult to accurately quantify ‘national’ emissions, how ecosystems – and impacts on them, one might add – transcend formal national boundaries, and, most of all, the key issue of equity within nations, not merely, as the Indian government is arguing, between nations.

This combination of the notion of foregrounding the right to development and many notions of equity, including intra-national equity is brought together in some superb passages while concluding the discussion on alternative proposals (chapter 6). A desirable alternative conceptual approach “must give primacy to the right of development … stress historical responsibility … must include intra-national equity … set clear targets for GHG reductions and peaking … explicitly recognize the importance of preventing the overuse of natural resources (p. 102).

Given all this, I’m a bit puzzled by two things: one, the foregrounding once again, at the end of the book, of the nation-state, in discussing the impasse that preceded Copenhagen. By foregrounding this very frame, political elites have ensured not just that Copenhagen was an abysmal failure but that climate negotiations have gone nowhere in 15 successive COPs, even as the Earth hurtles towards dangerous climate change. The problem is a global one, but the nation-state is a very alluring and powerful frame, and Bidwai, like most of us, at times gets caught between the two.

And two, despite a nuanced presentation of its neoliberal variant, one’s struck by the limited discussion of the centrality of capitalism and its logic, both as the cause of global warming and in limiting what might emerge as solutions to it. It is this ecologically destructive logic of capitalist growth and accumulation, to “expand without end in order to exist” that prompted Joel Kovel to write that “a remarkable yet greatly unappreciated fact (is) that the era of environmental awareness, beginning roughly in 1970, has also been the era of greatest environmental breakdown”(Koval, 2007, pp. 3, 38).  It’s debatable whether lasting solutions can be implemented on the scale necessary as long as that pernicious system holds sway.

Which does not take away from the relevance of proposals for low-carbon development and mitigation that Bidwai puts forward for India in chapter 7the need for decentralized energy generation that prioritizes basic needs of communities and local resource endowments, promotion of public transport, the System of Rice Intensification (SRI), the use of locally available material and biomass, among others. Some folks may wince a bit at his mentioning run-of-the-river projects, given the considerable damage they are already causing in some Himalayan states. And there are many suggestions for energy efficiency in different contexts, though he seems to have been much more critical of energy efficiency in some earlier writing. (In passing, I’m surprised, given how much he discusses energy options, present and future, that peak oil is not mentioned even once, an issue that is discussed in a recent book by another eminent writer.

But in general, not just do most of his proposals have huge relevance for sustainability and more equitable development irrespective of climate change, they are issues that those involved in the incipient climate justice movement in this country have begun to articulate and campaign for. Or should. One is struck by how many of his positions are mirrored by stands taken by organisations, some of which were articulated in a memorandum in late November 2009 to the government of India in the context of the Copenhagen meet and endorsed by 195 organizations and a number of individuals from all over India: that the NAPCC was arrived at undemocratically and with little discussion (p. 62); that the NAPCC ignores the key issues of equity and redistribution (p. 75); the many dangers of market mechanisms such as the CDM (p. 16); that much of what the government claims as adaptation is merely a repackaging of existing programmes (p. 31); the dangerous advocacy of large dams as part of the National Water Mission (p. 85); why nuclear power is a hazardous non-solution to climate change (p. 103); the need for a more decentralized generation and use of energy, particularly in villages that have no electricity (p. 119), and that India’s growing emissions cannot be curtailed “unless India’s development model is radically restructured along egalitarian, balanced and sustainable lines which put people, not markets, at the centre” (p. 59). Praful Bidwai deals with all these and other complex themes with a lucidity, rigour and thoroughness for which he is so well known. I’d wager that no reader can come away from reading this book without being better informed or gaining deeper insights into climate change, India’s policy and development trajectory in general.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Nuclear Liability Bill: worse than stupid

Back in March, I argued that the Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage Bill was a stupid idea.  Two recent events make me rethink that position.  After careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that word stupid may not strong enough to describe this bill.

Consider what we've learned from the radioactive Cobalt 60 which was sold by to a West Delhi scrap market, and which killed at least one trader and exposed many more to unsafe levels of radiation. Yes, Delhi University should get a large part of this blame--if we can't trust universities to take care of their radioactive waste, then it's hard to imagine who we can trust.

But the Cobalt 60 tragedy also revealed the utter incompetence of the Atomic Energy Regulatory Board (AERB) which is charged with regulating nuclear installations and equipment.  It is the job of the AERB to make sure that accidents like this don't happen.  Unfortunately, recent investigations suggest that accidents are the rule, rather than the exception when it comes to the disposal of radioactive material--which means "accident" may not be the right word to use--I'd suggest "negligence" as a place to start, but that also may not be strong enough.  

Writing in the Financial Chronicle, Praful Bidwai explains the consistent failure of the AERB to even keep track of the nuclear facilities supposedly  regulates and monitors:
Worst of all, AERB conducted a laughable total of 110 inspections in the 62,000 plus installations under its charge last financial year. AERB rarely responds to urgent requests from laboratories about final disposal of radioactive material. Nor does it have sound advice to offer them.
In an article in Frontline, Bidwai goes over the same ground in more depth.   And he adds this disturbing information:
Many scientists who handle radioactive material – and I have interviewed several from three institutes – complain that the AERB routinely ignores requests for guidance on storage and disposal. Often, inquirers are told to dump the material, “informally”, of course.

Given that, it should come as no surprise that the recent Cobalt 60 incident was not the first of it's kind. In another article in Frontline this month, we learn that shiploads full of recycled Indian steel have been rejected abroad for being radioactive.  And we've even exported recycled steel that resulted in radioactive French elevator buttons! If we are careless enough to export radioactive steel, one has to wonder about the condition of our domestic steel.  This may well be of many factors that led the Times of India to recently say, "India may truly be on the verge of a cancer epidemic."

What does the AERB's incompetence have to do with the Civil Liability for Nuclear Damage Bill? For one thing, under the Nuclear Liability Bill, the AERB would continue to be responsible for regulating nuclear facilities; and as we have seen, they are not doing a very good job at that.  (For more on the ineptitude of the AERB and the Department of Atomic Energy, read this article by Praful Bidwai--it is chilling stuff.)   Not only that, under the Nuclear Liability Bill, the AERB would be would be charged with determining whether a nuclear accident has occurred or not. Scary stuff.

It should be clear that it makes no sense to go ahead with this bill--or with an expansion of nuclear power at all--until we have a regulatory body capable of ...regulating.

The other huge problem with the Nuclear Liability Bill is that it caps  liability at ridiculously low levels.  You can read about those levels here, or in many other places. This clause was apparently required by US multinationals, who want to avoid liability in the event they sell us faulty nuclear equipment. 

The liability issue is not new. But the huge oil leak at British Petroleum's (BP) off shore oil rig in the US should give us pause for two reasons. The BP leak reminds us that the cost of major industrial accidents--like Chernobyl, Bhopal, and Exxon Valdez--can be huge.  It is clear that the BP leak has already caused billions of dollars in economic damage--not to mention wildlife habitats that may never recover. Major nuclear accidents are potentially just as expensive--and let's not forget that radiation sticks along a lot longer than oil slicks.

 Frontline reports that  BP did not install expensive backup safety equipment on this rig partly because the US regulators--operating under rules set up by Bush and Cheney--said it wasn't necessary. That goes back to weak regulation.  Of course limiting liability also encourages companies to take more risks, because they know in the worst case they'll be bailed out.

Yes, weak regulators and limited liability are two good reasons why the Nuclear Liability Bill is a disaster waiting to happen.  The PM is pushing it hard this week--and he's making a big mistake.  Let's stop it while we can!  Sign this online petition, if you haven't already. And while you are at it, sign this one from Greenpeace!