Abstract
At the bulletin we're always looking for photos of nuclear power reactors. We also want photos of related items, like the cooling ponds where spent nuclear fuel is stored. It's a constant struggle to find new or engaging pictures of plants, and we often fail.
On the other hand, we've never run into the kind of grief that young photographer Jason Henske of Vermont's Brattleboro Reformer found himself in last November, when his editor asked him to take some pictures of the Vermont Yankee nuclear power plant.
Henske wanted to find the right place to snap his pictures, and luckily it wasn't on plant property. But he was nonetheless spotted by a security guard who called the police. Responding quickly, Police Chief Randy Wheelock of Vernon, Vermont, came right out and took Henske into custody, escorting him back to the station for questioning.
It seems the authorities believed Henske had violated state law–Title 13, Section 3481, to be exact–which declares that if the nation is at war, taking photos of a nuclear power plant (or of a few other things like bridges, roads, canals, railways, and so on) is an act of treason.
Whether Vermont could single-handedly declare someone guilty of treason against the United States is probably a matter for serious–or at least prolonged–federal adjudication. So the statute makes it clear that from the state's point of view, taking snapshots of Vermont Yankee was a felony punishable by up to 10 years in prison.
You might think that a quick look at his press credentials would have reassured the Vernon constabulary that Henske was not a foreign terrorist (an article in the November 29 Rutland Herald implies that the security guard at Vermont Yankee who ratted on him may have recognized him).
In the end, after several hours of discussions, the police declined to charge Henske with a crime–but only, explained Windham County State's Attorney Dan Davis, because the photographer said he would delete the pictures from his digital camera.
Apparently, no one in the drama stopped to consider whether the country was in an actual state of war in which the statute might rightfully be invoked.
What is most troubling about l'affaire Henske, of course, is that U.S. nuclear power reactors–and much of the nuclear weapons complex, for that matter–are much more vulnerable to attack than ordinary citizens could have imagined. There's more important things than a couple of pictures appearing in a local newspaper to worry about, as we report in this issue.
Author Dan Hirsch of the Committee to Bridge the Gap has been trying for 17 years to get the Nuclear Regulatory Commission to listen to his concerns about poorly guarded power plants. The NRC's security standards are low, and there is no penalty for not meeting them. Bob Alvarez explains why the most dangerous buildings at the nation's nuclear reactors are those that contain the pools where spent fuel rods are stored.
And just to complete this can't-sleep-thinking-about-it roundup, authors from the Project on Government Oversight explain why things are no better at the weapons complex.