Friday, 30 November 2012

Before 2013. More on 2012 anniversaries: 1. Gruinard 1942

Experiments carried out in 1942 and 1943 by British government scientists on Gruinard, a.k.a. ‘Anthrax’ Island made the place officially unfit for human or animal habitation for decades.
What was done?
Official files reveal how the first series of trials began in July 1942 to explore the feasibility of producing lethal effects from an airborne cloud laden with anthrax spores. It was shown to have "enormous potentialities", with "effects on animals of an order of magnitude quite different" from either high explosives or chemical agents.  "Most Secret" veterinary report told how the sheep were bought in Inverness, and gave the gruesome post mortem findings. All the animals were destroyed whether or not the spores had got them (as is the norm in animal experimentation), the carcases covered in earth (peat in sandbags), and "the whole finally [supposedly] obliterated by rock blast".
The second series in September 1942 aimed to confirm the results of the first, obtain further information, and test the same anthrax bomb in conditions approximating to operational use. Trials one and two were considered very satisfactory from all aspects. In Trial three the bomb fell in a very boggy patch, making a three-foot crater, and no animal died. Trial four - an anti-tank project - was satisfactory, establishing a prima facie case for the use of anthrax in anti-personnel munitions.
To ensure that all deaths were due to inhalation of spores from anthrax, the sheep were not just tethered but fixed in special crates to limit head movements. The spores were thought to provide perhaps an ideal "war gas" in a cloud scarcely visible and probably odourless, of a toxicity which far exceeded that of any "pure" chemical agent so far discussed. Scientific and service personnel were thanked for participating with enthusiasm in these difficult and dangerous trials, and locally-based helpers acknowledged.
A third series of tests was conducted in July to September 1943 using four-pound aircraft bombs. Experimental staff were deemed to be at no great risk, although they needed protective clothing. When participants returning from the south of the contaminated area waded through a stream of surface water supplying washing tanks, it was thought it might be "inadvisable" to use this water for washing face, neck and hands.
Who was responsible?
A team had come from Porton Down in Wiltshire.  At the end of September 1939 Prime Minister Neville Chamberlain had approved a proposal for an expert committee to discuss the possibilities of infection being transmitted by various forms of micro-organisms through the air. The House of Common's Defence Committee sanctioned "appropriate measures to enable retaliation (if the need should arise, i.e. after first use by the enemy) without undue delay". And, as Paul Fildes, who headed the team, observed in his report of Series three of the trials, "experiments of this sort can only be carried out in remote places". Of course it doesn’t seem so remote if you happen to live there.
What about the locals?
Unofficial reports leaked out of an outbreak of anthrax on the mainland in 1943, thought to be from one infected carcase that had been hurled too far out by the disposal blast.
News of a number of inexplicably dead animals was communicated by the Divisional Inspector for Animal Health on 28 February 1943. The death of a heifer a week previously had been reported to the police as suspected anthrax; the background was the washing up of a carcase of a breed and origin unknown locally in an inlet off Gruinard Bay in September 1942. Local enquiries  elicited suggestions about experiments of great secrecy involving poison gas dropped from aeroplanes. One soldier left at the house occupied by the Porton personnel on the mainland confirmed that experiments of some nature had been going on, “in the notion of killing [the enemy] quickly”. A Ministry of Agriculture (MAF) Area Inspector sent to investigate confirmed that at least three sheep had been washed up the previous September, although two had gone back out to sea.
A cover story would be needed if there was to be an official response to the compensation claim lodged by the dead heifer’s owner. A Mr Fish, who described himself as a security officer, had the bright idea of ascribing the anthrax’s origin to one sheep, which it was to be said had been traced to a Greek ship. The utmost secrecy as to the actual source of the sheep was essential, Fish explained, to prevent news of the Gruinard experiments reaching Germany. Fildes approved this “ingenious solution”, by which the payment of compensation would be presented as a charge on the Greek government, to be settled between the two allies after the war. This fishy  story was said to have gone down with the natives as well as could be expected.
The possibility of recurring outbreaks was a difficulty. Alfred Duff Cooper, Minister of Information, was against further payments in the event of more animal deaths. He thought the Greek ship story feasible, but the Treasury rejected it, although they could suggest no alternative other than to pay up and shut up about why. A conference extending to include Foreign Office and Scottish Office participation granted that crofters had suffered, for them, considerable loss. After discussion it was settled that officials would accept the view that the trouble was in some way related to war conditions, and that it was made on account of the death of farm animals. They would continue to monitor the situation.
In September 1943 anthrax was found again, confirmed in another dead heifer. No clue to the origin of the infection could be found other than the ‘centre’ at Gruinard. A letter went out on 10 July 1944 stating that no compensation was being offered, but payment was being made with reference to the death of the animal. An envelope in the file contains a certificate of infection with anthrax.
In June 1945 Fildes admitted that Gruinard Island was very heavily infected, and would not be fit to restore for normal purposes for a very long time, at least 30 years. MAF was to be consulted on any necessary action to prevent it being “a menace to the mainland”.  Fildes in fact abdicated responsibility. It was all very difficult, he wrote on 22 May 1945, and he himself hoped to be out of the subject in a few weeks, except perhaps advising - not to much purpose since he declared “I must say I have no idea how to clean the island up”. It was purchased by the Ministry of Supply in 1947.
In April 1962 the Member of Parliament for Ross and Cromarty was prompted by some of his constituents to pursue the matter of the island. Three years previously he had been sent a letter stating the place was still unfit for human habitation. Certain areas of soil contained organisms dangerous to man and beast, and this hazard was thought likely to persist. An MRE (Microbiological Research Establishment, i.e. from Porton) inspection party visited each year to take samples.
"When safe again" the island would be offered to the former owner. It was likely, though, to remain contaminated for the foreseeable future, was dangerous, and should not be approached. In 1963 people wanted to know what progress had been made, and the media were on the case; the MP had suggested decontamination, until convinced by the authorities that it was not possible. A press release was prepared for that year's inspection, admitting for the first time the nature of the contamination, giving the official line on how and why it occurred, and the need for the annual check.
As a civil servant explained to the Minister concerned, they had hitherto always refused to disclose details as not being in the public interest. Indeed, a former Under Secretary of State had banned use of the word bacteriological "unless cornered". But this was no longer enough. There were rumours, for example, about radioactivity, and incidents of trespass or inadvertent landings, and efforts to maintain secrecy had become an embarrassment. To stop the rot, on 1st August 1963 it was decided that the "Secret" classification for Gruinard files could be abandoned.
How to clean it up?
The annual testing of soil samples, begun in 1948, was continued until 1968, then again in 1972 MoD staff found viable spores although accurate counts were not made. In 1981 experts from the Chemical Defence Establishment (CDE - there were many name changes) at Porton Down published their report on the results of the first full survey conducted in 1979. Areas around the gantry where the anthrax bombs were suspended remained contaminated at detectable levels, along with a much wider surrounding zone of undetectable contamination - possibly containing localised high concentrations of spores, which could also constitute a hazard.
Within a year it was announced that the MoD intended to try to clean up the island, after a small spate of Parliamentary Questions. In 1982-83 preliminary results of field trials and laboratory tests showed that decontamination was possible. The work was to be undertaken by a small party from the CDE with a Scottish Home and Health Department representative in attendance.
The Ministry's refusal to give details of the chemicals to be used raised some concerns, while the leading science magazine Nature was fairly relaxed about the anthrax itself and claimed that tourists frequently strayed on to the island without falling ill. Journalists were allowed on in July 1986, the largest group of people to visit the island since the experiment.
All better now?
Finally in 1990 it was announced that Gruinard Island was to be sold back to the heirs of its former owner on 1st May for £500, matching compensation paid at the time of its compulsory purchase. The island as a whole had been passed as safe in 1988 by "independent scientists", after a local farmer had grazed a flock of 40 sheep there for several months with no observable ill effects.
The fears and misgivings aroused by the name of Gruinard may be still more difficult to eradicate.
__________________
S PUBSonline
Mostly adapted from:Faraway places: The post-war fate of Gruinard Island’,  West Highland Free Press 6 Sep 2002, p.10,  http://www.whfp.com/1584/focus.html. The article was partly based on:  E. A. Willis, Landscape with Dead Sheep: What they did to Gruinard Island', Medicine, Conflict & Survival Vol.18, No.2, April-June 2002, 199-210.
For the 1943 ‘compensation’ story, see E. A. Willis, 'Contamination and compensation: Gruinard as a 'menace to the mainland', Medicine, Conflict & Survival Vol.20, No. 4, Oct.-Dec 2004, 333-42.

Tuesday, 30 October 2012

Favourable notice of Invergordon pamphlet

The Hob’s Choice feature in Black Flag magazine, No. 235, mid-2012, has as its first item (p.36) a mini-review by Ade Dimmick of  Invergordon 1931. Shipshape and Mutiny Fashion: How they Fought the Pay Cuts. It includes a (slightly mis-transcribed) except from the pamphlet’s Introduction, a brief summary of what it’s about (see earlier posts here) and concludes:-
“The pamphlet is based on the various sources available and is probably one of the best overviews from a libertarian socialist perspective written to date.”


Sources for the pamphlet include:
Anthony Carew, The Lower Deck of the RN, 1900-1939: the Invergordon Mutiny in perspective, Manchester U P, 1981. 




Cover Photograph (Front)
“The crew of HMS Norfolk on strike; Invergordon,  Scotland, 14-15 September 1931. From a snapshot taken by a member of the crew.”


 

Monday, 22 October 2012

Availability of pamphlets through AK Press and Distribution

Copies of the following SmothPubs pamphlets may now be purchased through  AK Press and Distribution, http://www.akuk.com :
What is Libertarian History? by Liz Willis (2011) 12pp. 90p
Invergordon 1931. Shipshape and Mutiny Fashion: How they Fought the Pay Cuts by Liz Willis (2011). £0.70p
Women in the Spanish Revolution by Liz Willis (Autumn 2010 edition)16pp. £1.00.
These may also be on sale on one or two stalls at the London Anarchist Book Fair on Saturday 27th October: see http://www.anarchistbookfair.org.uk

Bad News for Labour History

In a ‘Statement on status of destruction of archival material Ruskin college’ dated 15 October 2012 historian Dr Hilda Kean tells the sorry tale of how ‘Archive material dating back to the first decades of the twentieth century of the internationally renowned labour movement college, Ruskin College, Oxford has been destroyed and material constituting its radical history has been dispersed. The integrity of the material in the college as an archive of working class history no longer exists. Sadly, this process of destruction and dispersal has not finished.’
‘Although Bishopsgate Institute in London advised the college management that it could take unwanted material in July, the college management did not take up that offer.’
For further details see inter alia http://radicalhitorynetwork.blogspot.com
Whose archive, whose history?       (Comment by L.W.)
There are parallels, obviously, with things happening in other institutions and organisations where mindless authoritarian management rides roughshod over the welfare of people working in them, the needs of those they were intended to serve, and, often, the principles which led to their being set up in the first place. The breath-taking arrogance and ignorance of the Principal’s quoted comments beg the question of how anyone like that was allowed to get into a position to wield such power unchecked, in such a context, but will be horribly not unfamiliar to many who have found themselves working within an admin-heavy hierarchical set-up where corporate newspeak mentality and unquestioning subservience to government policy rule.
On a brighter note, Volunteer students working in the archive instructed to shred labour movement pamphlets acted with the imagination and integrity one expects of the best of the Ruskin tradition. Other material such as pamphlets or ephemera has been squirreled away by staff keen to preserve the past.. .’ Grass-roots spontaneous action has thus achieved some damage limitation at least. Copy that!
Related SmothPubs pamphlet: What is Libertarian History? by Liz Willis (2011) 12pp. 90p/.60p (depending on where purchased).

A new novel set partly in Ladakh

Liz Harris, The Road Back, Choc Lit,  2012. £7.99
It’s not likely that many reviews of self-identified (?-confessed) ‘romantic’ novels will appear on this blog but this one is special. Its inspiration was the same album, compiled by the author’s uncle, which also inspired our Himalayan Encounters pamphlet (see below). Many of the scenes photographed for the album – people as well as places – and described in its notes are visited in the central section of the novel, making for an unusual, perhaps unique, background to a well constructed and effectively told tale. 
This background is perhaps subject to a slight chronological slippage, given that the album with its many authentic details of a vanished way of life dates from the early 1940s, while the two main characters encounter each other about twenty years later, at a time when the region was a bone of contention between India and Pakistan post-partition, not to mention China muscling in. For one thing, it is doubtful whether travel to and within it would have been quite as easy for Brits as it appears here, if indeed it was possible at all.(Politics as such are largely absent, although there is obviously an awareness of imperialist attitudes, culture clashes and other social issues.)  Such pedantic caveats aside, it’s a good read, and an impressive and original first novel,
Related SmothPubs pamphlet: Himalayan Encounters: Ladakh 1944. (Notes on a ‘Trip’ from Srinagar to Khalatse) by Kenneth Behrens.(2011). 20pp. £1.50: pdf here.


UPDATE (June 2017)
A new pdf of the pamphlet with the images is now available

Monday, 11 June 2012

Rough winds do shake th’ Olympic flames of June

They might have known...
“Windy conditions put out two flames on lanterns at the Callanish stones monument, promping an emergency dash to collect a spare flame.” - BBC News UK, 11-6-12
An Ill Wind
“But nor satisfied ever, nor weary / Is ever the wind.”   [A.C. Swinburne, ‘By the North Sea’]
                One of the things about Lewis that visitors find not only disconcerting but even downright annoying is our habit of greeting each other with the words.  “It’s a bit breezy!” when in fact, we are gasping our way through a howling gale; it is annoying for many of them because the persistent high winds is the one aspect of our climate to which they find it most difficult to adjust themselves.
                Natives, like myself, usually accept as a matter of course, especially in the winter time, the necessity of almost perpetually leaning in one direction in order not to be blown in another.  But when one has to resort to such devices for a fortnight in the month of May, even the native begins to grumble, because by that time we are beginning to look for softer weather and some of the balm that gives us growth.
                Instead of that a cold grey wind has been blowing out of the west with wearisome and unabated persistence, keeping home fishing boats in harbour, sending strange craft for its land-locked shelter, chasing the grey seal (which appears to have adopted Stornoway) to some more sheltered nook of his own, blasting flowers, shrubs and trees, laying its mortifying hand on all tender growth, - until as I listen to “the moan that he borrows from darkness and depth of the night” I am left with “the sense that eternity never shall silence his voice.”
                - from another 'As I See It', “M.S.”, Stornoway Gazette, 22 & 25/05/1956

Saturday, 9 June 2012

56 YEARS AGO, Not the Olympics: A columnist looking back in 1956 at Sports Days gone by

 “And we run, because we like it” [Title from C.H. Sorley, The Song of the Ungirt Runners] by
“M.S.”, (AS I See It), Stornoway Gazette, 12 & 15 June 1956, p.3. [Excerpts.]

                ... Some attempt was made immediately after the war to keep alive the spirit of the old Football League Sports – that field day, yes, even gala day, of the ‘twenties and ‘thirties which was the Lewis equivalent of Highland Games. However, in spite of gallant efforts by organisers the endeavour to keep things going weakened and faded until it finally died ...
                Many people will tell you that the “gates” at these Sports became so poor that they could not hope to survive. And, certainly, not only did the public interest of pre-war years never revive fully, but what interest there was to start with petered out. It must, however, be admitted, in fairness to the paying public, that there was a marked deterioration in the enthusiasm of competitors, and a demoralising paucity of entrants for events. Had the sports provided on these days retained the keenness and put on the showmanship of earlier days, spectators would have flocked to watch as they did before; and as they always will do if the show is worthwhile ...
                What appeared to me to be lacking was the general enthusiasm of other times – times when you got a dozen lads entered for the mile race, all of them in and all of them fighting, although very often nine out of the dozen knew before they started that on form they hadn’t got a chance. However, although they couldn’t all be in front, they were all there and the also-rans helped as much to make the race a spectacle as did the prize-winners.
                Now, I will agree that there are not at present very encouraging games or training facilities available for potential athletes. And, in return, I think that such aspirants will concede that in the ’twenties and ’thirties we had no more – possibly less. I’m not arguing that because we didn’t have the facilities they shouldn’t – I think they should be given every chance and encouragement – but why the difference between “then” and “now” if the opportunities were roughly the same?
                I may be wrong but, as I see it, the difference lies in the mental approach to training. Nowadays facilities are expected and, if not provided, the young hopefuls just sit back and wait for them. We knew that facilities would not be forthcoming so we provided our own. Every stone of a certain size and shape was a special dispensation of providence for enthusiastic shot-putters; similarly every piece of timber of a suitable length or gauge was a caber; we made our own “hammers” out of lumps of iron or lead and lengths of chain; every “poll mònadh” [peat-bank] or wide burn was a jumping hazard. We were in training of one form or another all the year round. The lack of training facilities only acted as an incentive. Everything imaginable – and some not! – became a training facility.
                Of course, I think that sports fields and games facilities should be provided. But while waiting for them, could not the young lads [and lasses – Ed.] of today take a few leaves out of their predecessors’ books. Could they not carry into later years the keenness, enthusiasm, and competitive spirit which gives us such good school sports – both urban and rural. Then they would not only be ready for any opportunity that came along but I feel sure they could put on shows that would revive again the almost dead spirit of the inter-war years in Willowglen.
[Isle of Lewis, social history]