On the Road to Russia's Rich Wasteland
A Uranium Mine's Mother Lode of RealityAugust 8, 2001
By Robert G. Kaiser, The Washington Post
Reprinted with permission from Washingtonpost.Newsweek Interactive and The Washington Post.KRASNOKAMENSK, Russia (Aug. 2) – Look down into the enormous hole and play a mind game: From this giant excavation into the rolling Mongolian steppe, less than 25 miles from the spot where the Russian, Chinese and Mongolian borders intersect, came the uranium that went into most of the Soviet Union's thermonuclear warheads, the ones aimed at the United States during the Cold War. The thought occurs that this gigantic hole, nearly a mile long, three-fourths of a mile wide, and 330 yards deep, would resemble the holes that exploding hydrogen bombs might have created in downtown Washington.
But that's just a daydream. In reality this hole, a giant pock mark in the steppe, is visible evidence that this remote corner of Siberia has been home for three decades to one of the world's largest uranium mines and processing plants. Mountains of tailings scattered across the steppe are another piece of evidence. The company town of Krasnokamensk, built from nothing at all to house 65,000 isolated people, is a third.
Uranium mining isn't what the Russian adventurers who conquered Siberia had in mind. They came for furs – sable and fox. Sable was the most prized accessory in the courts of Europe. Two pelts of black fox could be traded in 17th Century Russia for 50 acres of land, a cabin, five horses, 10 head of cattle, 20 sheep and dozens of chickens. Most of those adventurers were cossacks, a hearty breed of Russians who had pioneered the fertile South in earlier centuries, where they (alone among their countrymen) avoided the system of serfdom that helped hold back Russian development for so long.
Cossacks elected their own leaders, and took great pride in their self-sufficiency and energetic determination. Amazingly, the Cossacks who conquered Siberia did so in less than 70 years, moving 3,000 miles from the Ural mountains to the Pacific Ocean, across an expanse that in the modern world spans five time zones. They reached the Pacific in 1648.
There are still fox and sable in Siberia, in much smaller numbers than 300 years ago. But today's wealth is in Krasnokamensk's uranium, Chita's forests, Buryatia's gold, Irkutsk's natural gas, Norilsk's palladium and Surgut's huge reservoirs of oil. Siberia's wealth is Russia's wealth; without it, Russia's future would be grim. But with it the Russians have a chance to regain a considerable part of the stature and influence in the world they have lost in the last ten years-provided they can learn how to exploit these riches effectively.
Poisonous Lakes If anyone ever offers you a day trip to Krasnokamensk, the wise response might be "nyet, spasibo" – no thanks. Not that it isn't a great adventure to come to this moonscape on the edge of the world, where the grassy steppe looks like split-pea soup spiced with flakes of pepper (the brown spots caused by a terrible drought this year). But to make the trip to and from the nearest outpost of civilization – Chita, capital of the gargantuan Chita oblast of southernmost Siberia – you need an uninterrupted 26-hour day.
We set out from Chita at 4 a.m. Chita Oblast (most of Russia's provincial jurisdictions, many of them bigger than powerful countries, are called oblasts) is part of the great expanse of Russian territory that was closed to foreigners in the Soviet era. Westerners in Moscow used to wonder if the Soviet authorities closed such places out of fear that traveling foreigners might learn real state secrets, or out of embarrassment for what they might see. Our trip here lends support to the "embarrassment" camp. The view from the window of our van was considerably worse now than it would have been ten years ago. Like most of Siberia, Chita is in the midst of an economic depression fully the equal of America's in the 1930s.
Seventy percent of the oblast's economic enterprises have collapsed since the Soviet Union disappeared. Abandoned factories, crumbling before your eyes, are a common sight. Even the surviving enterprises look like they are crumbling – reminders of the staggering infrastructure problems the new Russia faces.
The road to Krasnokamensk is a narrow ribbon of asphalt most of the way, its surface varying from smooth to potholed to a jaw-rattling washboard and back to smooth again – except during the last 100 miles or so of a trip about 450 miles long. That last stretch, leading to what was recently the world's largest uranium processing and mining facility (it now ranks fifth), is a dirt road, and not even a good one.road, but rather one packed with stones the sizes of tennis and golf balls Most travelers, we learned, use the train to get to Krasnokamensk, a 15-hour journey from Chita, but a smooth one. (Soviet-era air service to the city is now a dim memory.)
This could be the Russian definition of a company town. Without "the enterprise," as everyone here calls it (its real name is the Krasnokamensk Hydroelectrical Factory), this would be pristine steppe, as it was before the 1960s. And when the uranium runs out, perhaps in as little as 25 years, it will likely be impossible to sustain this community at all.
We were met by German Nikolayevich Kolov, 42, the deputy administrator of the city and until several years ago the chief engineer of the enterprise. Wary at first – the enterprise was still closed to outsiders, he said – he agreed that we could tour key installations from the outside. But without the general director's permission we could not be shown any interiors, and the general director was out of town.
That tour took us to the big hole, the first mine in Krasnokamensk, which was exploited for 20 years until almost fully depleted. Now ore is mined from underground seams, more than two dozen of them in the area. The hole, dry and empty, looks like the foundation for an enormous, un-built building. (Environmental activists in Chita say there are persistent rumors that some of the nuclear wastes Russia has agreed to accept, for large fees, from other countries could end up here.) Nearby, vast hills of tailings, at least 500 feet high, dominate the landscape.
From another high vantage point on a hill several miles from the hole we could see three big lakes created to hold the liquified waste produced by uranium processing. These wastes contain sulfuric acid used to separate uranium from its ore, and radioactive traces of uranium and other heavy metals. According to Paul Robinson, research director of the Southwest Research and Information Center in Albequerque, NM, and an expert on uranium extraction who was invited to Krasnokamensk in 1996, the enterprise's then-chief ecologist acknowledged there was a problem with leakage from the ponds (lined with clay and plastic) that hold these wastes. The city's drinking water was threatened, Robinson was told.
The enterprise was badly burned by a documentary made in 1994 by a team from Greenpeace, which came to Krasnokamensk pretending to be journalists from Swedish television. Greenpeace charged that the enterprise flagrantly violated accepted norms for dealing with uranium, exposed its workers to unnecessary danger, and allowed some residents of the city to live in homes whose radon levels were many times higher than is considered tolerable for humans. Robinson concluded that while the enterprise has significant environmental problems, the Greenpeace report was exaggerated.
In their conversations with us, city and enterprise officials spoke at length about the extensive safety precautions they take. But they also acknowledged that people still live in a part of town where radon levels are sometimes astoundingly high, and said that for years the enterprise has been trying to get authorities in Moscow to pay to relocate those people.
Vodka and Dancers Kolov, a six-footer who could easily tip the scales at 300 pounds, insisted that we accept his hispitality, and his insistence carried a good deal of weight. So on to the Alfa Restaurant, a city-owned enterprise recently spiffed up. In the big cities now, the restaurants are in private hands, sometimes very talented ones, but capitalism is moving slowly in Siberia.
In Krasnokamensk the Soviet Union still survives, in spirit if not in fact. When the enterprise recently celebrated is 30th year in full operation, the most productive workers won cars – the modern version of a Soviet medal. Enterprise employees are still sent on free vacations to nearby "resorts." The spread at the Alfa was extensive. Kolov, it soon became evident, welcomed the visit by foreigners as an excuse to tuck into some local specialties himself, including a bit of vodka. At his instruction, members of a famous local dance company had been invited to the Alfa to put on a demonstration of their considerable talents for the visitors. They went through half a dozen costume changes and danced to blaring recorded music in impressive synchronicity.
Over dinner Kolov disclosed a secret. "We're building a church," he revealed, an ambitious Russian Orthodox cathedral with seven onion-shaped cupolas, right in the heart of downtown. It will cost 400 million rubles (or about $15 million), the cost to be shared equally by four backers: the church, the enterprise, the city government and the oblast government. Kolov expects the church to cause quite a sensation when people realize what it is.
Return Viktor, our driver, went out in search of two new spare tires, and at 8 p.m., after much jovial conversation involving Kolov, his press secretary and a local journalist who could not stop bragging about the tomatoes grow in Krasnokamensk, we were back in the van. About 20 miles out of town on the dirt highway back to Chita, a colossal moon the color of pale butter appeared suddenly above the rolling steppe, rising in the gray dusk of a long Siberian day. Under the nearly-full moon, the pale green and brown steppe – part of the land that nurtured Genghis Khan and his descendants, once the world's greatest warriors – seemed for that moment to be boundless, infinite. But it wasn't – in barely nine hours, we were back in Chita.
Mikhail Khodorkovsky's official Press Center, 11.10.2005