Glowing in the dark - Use of 'u' in the U.S.

ONE OF THE biggest issues now brewing in Pittsylvania County, Va., can be blamed on hot water that got trapped in the granite about 2 million years ago. That water left underground residue that contained uranium, the oddly behaving mineral that fuels nuclear power plants and can blow up cities. What was once an unremarkable field of hay and tobacco owned by an old-line Virginia family is now considered the largest deposit of recoverable uranium ever discovered in the eastern United States.
Americans have been arguing over uranium since Hiroshima (with good reason) and there's a cloud of mythology hanging over the deposit in Southside Virginia. I want to examine some of the misinformation that's been tossed about. But first, a bit of history that doesn't go back as far as the Triassic Era.
A team of geologists discovered the uranium on the Coles family farm in 1978 when they happened to be driving by and noticed that their radiation-detection instruments were going crazy. The geology was attractive, but the timing was bad.
Some pumps failed in the middle of the night at the Three Mile Island plant in Pennsylvania the following year, nearly melting down the core. Nobody died and the plant still operates, but it scared the public and created an eerie image around uranium.
The market for nuclear power (never robust to begin with) sunk into a depression from which it has never truly recovered, and the Virginia
General Assembly in 1982 seemed to put the seal on the field in Pittsylvania County by passing a law that directed state agencies to draft regulations for how uranium would be mined, if ever.
Now the price is back up, the ore is again worth the price of digging, and nuclear power interests have discovered the power of a green message, pointing out that nuclear power emits almost no fumes that cause climate change. There is renewed investor interest in the tobacco field owned by the Coles family, and the General Assembly has commissioned a study from an arm of the National Academy of Sciences that will suggest generic guidelines for uranium mining in the commonwealth.
This study will almost certainly be touted as an affirmative finding — political cover for officials who want to be perceived as delivering jobs — and open the door for a pit mine.
There have been charges and suppositions flying in the heat of argument, and both sides have told some whoppers. So without fear or favor, here's a truth check:
It will be an environmental catastrophe. "There will be a dead zone within a 30-mile radius of the mine," mine opponent Jack Dunavant told The Wall Street Journal. "Nothing will grow. Animals will die. The radiation genetically alters tissue. Animals will not be able to reproduce."
This is total nonsense. Mines into uraniferous granite formations like the one in Pittsylvania County have been operating for decades in Namibia with none of these ill effects.
It will be owned by Virginians. The primary backer of Virginia Uranium Inc. is now the Coles family, but the half-billion dollars in capital it will take to dig the pit and build a mill is going to have to come from a rich international mining giant like BHPBilliton, Rio Tinto or Teck Cominco. Primary ownership will probably be from outside the United States.
The study will settle the safety questions. It won't. The parameters are too vague. The National Research Council is being asked (and paid by the company) to "assess the potential ecosystem issues for uranium mining, milling, processing, and reclamation" in Virginia as a whole. The study will say nothing about the particular hydrology of the Coles Hill site, or what will happen to specific creeks downstream if the mine should flood in heavy rains.
The study is totally worthless. It isn't. If Virginia is to proceed down this road, the General Assembly will find it valuable to have expert guidelines to help them shape what they first asked for in 1982 — a general plan for state regulation.
It will be a huge eyesore. You probably wouldn't want to take a family photograph there, but the mining footprint, at less than 200 acres, is quite small by open-pit standards. Much of the uranium will be extracted through underground methods. The pit will look like the impression of a wedding cake turned upside down, with dump trucks running along the ledges. Few people will see it.
It will be a source of jobs for three decades. This is completely dependent on the price of uranium, which is notoriously volatile. If a high-profile accident, a change in China's reactor designs, or even a shift in U.S. policy toward subsidies for nuclear plants should come, it will put the company out of the uranium business and shutter the mine indefinitely, leaving up to 500 Virginians out of work.
It will be easy to remediate. Mining companies have a mixed record in this department. Some have done exemplary work in places, and deserve due credit for it, but there is no profit margin in remediation and much of it must be coerced. Mining operators are pros when it comes to pressuring regulators into laxity and applying false labels to shoddy work.
One look at a filled valley or a flattened mountaintop in Appalachia should be enough to put Pittsylvania County on guard against creative interpretations of the law. The mine will also include a yellowcake mill, where concentrations of radioactivity will be even higher. The last time the United States had to clean up one of these for a bankrupt company, it cost $400 million.
Virginia can help the U.S. find new energy solutions. This isn't the way. Nuclear power has been a part of our energy strategy for more than four decades, and has already proven itself to be generally safe, generally clean — and generally expensive. The private capital markets won't support it in its current form, and a new plant will requires billions in taxpayer subsidies, which the Obama administration has been reluctant to grant. If you're suspicious of government bailouts, nuclear power is not for you.
The uranium is worth $10 billion. This is a number that shifts every year, and the local economy won't ever see more than a small fraction of it. Richmond has a long history of giving tax breaks to coal companies and we shouldn't think this will be different. The real profits will be made by utilities, Wall Street, and whatever mining giant takes charge. If the company should go bankrupt in this uncertain milieu, the taxpayers of Virginia could well be paying for their cleanup mess.
This mine will help the U.S. become energy independent. The market for yellowcake is international and brokered through consultancies, meaning that Pittsylvania County's radioactive dirt has as much chance going to South Korea, India, Romania, or Japan as it does to Dominion Resources.
If this all sounds contradictory, it's because uranium never brings any slam-dunk answers. Those who claim it does are deluding themselves. There are reasoned arguments to be made by both sides that do not resort to hype or fear.
This mine certainly will not be the economic savior of Southside Virginia, but neither would it make a greenish glow in the night.
If the General Assembly decides to lift its moratorium — and if the residents of Pittsylvania County signal their ascent — they should do so with an understanding about the limitations of uranium mining and a healthy skepticism about claims that sound too good, or bad, to be true.

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