“It’s difficult to comprehend the level of contamination, the diversion of amounts of money into something that, in my view, will not improve national security,” says Jay Coghlan, executive director of Nuclear Watch New Mexico, a Santa Fe-based watchdog.
The dangers, of course, stretch far beyond New Mexico. Dread of nuclear annihilation hung over the globe throughout the Cold War. That fear is practically inscribed by history in the creosote-dotted hills around Los Alamos, the birthplace of The Bomb. Located atop a secluded mesa between the Jemez and Sangre de Cristo mountains, its transformation from a high desert outpost into a boomtown began in 1943, when more than 8,000 scientists, soldiers, and other personnel arrived to work for the Manhattan Project’s secret “Site Y” laboratory, under the direction of the theoretical physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer.
The picturesque setting for Oppenheimer’s pursuit of an atomic bomb contributed to the sense of insularity. Outsiders were not welcome. The people who worked and lived at Los Alamos were bound by secrecy and, with few exceptions, unable to leave. To this day, the people on this isolated plateau say they’re “on the hill,” which by default means that everyone else in the world is “off” it. But the ingrained seclusion of Los Alamos isn’t just semantic and geographic. It’s hard to find anyone in the community of 13,000 who doesn’t either work at the lab or have a neighbor, friend, or family member who does. It is a company town where even the street names gesture to its controversial past: Oppenheimer Drive, Trinity Drive, Manhattan Loop.