A ticking time bomb

Victor Yushchenko's Nasha Ukrayina ("Our Ukraine") party may have successfully waged an "orange revolution" to win the presidency, but the modern struggle for Ukrainian independence is best colored "radioactive green."

For $150 U.S. (plus airfare), Chernobyl External Services, a small tour company based in Slavutich (just southeast of Kiev), offers political enthusiasts and eager environmentalists an intimate look at freedom's grim beginnings from inside the loneliest, deadliest place on the planet: Pripyat, the once-lauded exemplar of Soviet urban planning and home to the world's most infamous nuclear disaster.

Today, it is a ticking time bomb.

It was in Pripyat that residents awoke in the early morning hours of April 26, 1986, to find the night sky lit by fires and a strange, eerie glow. There had been an accident at the power plant -- this much was obvious -- but there was no apparent cause for mass panic. The curious climbed to the rooftops of their apartment buildings for a better view, unaware of the poison showering them from above. The rest returned to bed, confident the matter would be dealt with swiftly. Within 72 hours, the city's 48,000 inhabitants were permanently evacuated (many would later relocate to Slavutich), leaving behind a ghost town caught in time and tragedy.

Prypiat is currently sealed off from the rest of the world by the SBU, Ukraine's version of the KGB, and is accessible only through a handful of tour operators, many of whom are former Chernobyl employees and/or Prypiat residents. In addition to not-so-healthy doses of radiation, courageous visitors (almost none of whom happen to be Ukrainian) are greeted by a deafening silence that fills the empty streets, restaurants, shops and homes. Signs of the living are everywhere, and yet the place is utterly dead.

Though the health consequences were appalling -- thousands now suffer from thyroid cancer and other radiation-linked illnesses -- the catastrophe also marked the start of widespread, coordinated discontent with Moscow that helped strengthen the Ukrainian People's Movement for Perestroika (RUKH). Composed mainly of intellectuals and writers, RUKH played a major role in the domestic unrest preceding Ukraine's independence from the USSR in 1991. RUKH now forms the backbone of the Nasha Ukrayina alliance that brought Yushchenko a long-awaited victory in last December's election.

As he assumes power, hopefully memories of Pripyat will linger in Yushchenko's mind for reasons less redolent of political lineage.

A thorn in the nation's side still stands at the city's edge. The now-defunct Chernobyl reactors -- including the problematic "Reactor Number 4" -- remain smothered beneath an enormous concrete sarcophagus.

Intended as only a temporary solution, this dome-like edifice was hastily built by conscripted Soviet soldiers to prevent further damage from radioactive fallout. At the time of its completion in November 1986, Soviet engineers estimated it would collapse in 30 years and emphasized the need for a more permanent solution.

Due to the intense heat inside the radioactive core, however, the sarcophagus has been disintegrating more quickly than predicted. Less than 20 years later, it already suffers serious signs of decay, with reports of more than 1,200 square yards of cracks and holes threatening to compromise its structural integrity. If the sarcophagus' walls were to buckle, more than 30 tons of underlying uranium dust could be released into the atmosphere.

Though the outgoing Ukrainian cabinet awarded a tentative architectural contract to Russia's Atomstroyexport Company in September 2004, no long-term plans to replace the crumbling sarcophagus have been finalized. Under consideration is an ambitious movable shell made entirely of steel (and as tall as the Statue of Liberty) which could be placed on top of the existing building. Designated the "New Safe Confinement," this replacement solution has been heavily discussed for nearly five years without any significant progress. The European Bank for Reconstruction and Development has earmarked several hundred million dollars toward its construction, but little has been heard of the project beyond idle talk of approving its "conceptual design."

Meanwhile, the clock is ticking in Pripyat, and President Yushchenko would do well to listen. Rather than forging ahead with plans to create a modernized EU-kraine, the charismatic leader must be willing to pause and confront the past -- the same past that aided his meteoric rise to fame. He must be willing, unlike so many before him, to write the final chapter of Chernobyl's sad legacy.

The dreadful calm of ano-ther Pripyat would surely be unbearable.

Jason Lott is a first-year student in the School of Medicine from Anniston, Ala. Whole Lotta Love appears on Mondays.

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