Poisoned land

DURING WORLD WAR II, the federal government made a deal with Navajos: If the tribe allowed uranium mining on its 27,000-square-mile reservation, the land eventually would be returned “in as good condition as received.”

Instead, when the diggers left by the mid-1960s, the land was scarred by open shafts, contaminated well water and radioactive piles -- often without fences or warning signs. As a Times series (latimes.com/navajo) reported last week, federal inspectors knew about the damage but did little to prevent or fix it.

What followed was unconscionable. Navajos drank from contaminated pools, slept on radioactive floors and fed their herds on land irrigated with death. Children suffered mysterious, painful illnesses and died young. One couple, Helen and Leonard Nez, lost six of their children; Helen had drunk poisoned water while pregnant.

Blame can be laid at the feet of the mining companies and even the tribal government. But it is the job of the Environmental Protection Agency and the Bureau of Indian Affairs to prevent environmental wreckage and safeguard the tribe’s interests. Both fell down on the job spectacularly.

Cleanup of toxic sites has happened only in fits and starts. One obstacle is that the federal government, unaccountably, has failed to conduct the comprehensive health and environmental studies necessary to determine the extent of the harm done. After several unsuccessful efforts to obtain funding, the tribe solicited the EPA’s Superfund program, to help squeeze money out of mining companies or draw from the fund’s $1.6-billion cleanup money. But the low population density of the area has prevented Navajos from qualifying.

Now the tribe is once again making the case to have its radioactive land placed on the Superfund list. This should be an EPA priority; if it takes an act of Congress, then fine. The country has a historical, ethical and contractual obligation to remove the toxic health hazard it created on Navajo lands.

Mining companies, excited about cleaner new technologies and an exponentially growing demand for uranium, are once again knocking on Navajo doors, offering jobs and swearing environmental responsibility. The tribe has said no, and no it should remain -- at least for now. The government should not buy from any tribal mines until the country proves that its promises and contracts aren’t as flimsy as the onion-skin paper on which they were once typed.