UI: No, in fact that is quite incorrect. It is certainly a lot more than that.
IA: A lot more than 50 per cent?
UI: Yeah. Simon [Crean] spoke to a number of reporters who were out at Maralinga and they reported figures of anywhere from 50 per cent to three-quarters. I would suggest that three-quarters was a far closer figure.
In his story, Anderson noted a likely compensation payment from Britain of £33 million, a figure that was roughly three-quarters of the estimated total cost. The final amount provided by the UK Government was somewhat less – £20 million, or about A$45 million – just under half of the actual cost.
Moroney became ill around March 1993, and Anderson never met him, though they did speak by phone several times. What at first seemed to be a severe case of pneumonia turned out to be multiple myeloma. Moroney died within days of Anderson’s article coming out, aged only 63. He saw a draft of the story that Anderson sent to ARL for checking and clearance. The annotated draft of this document – constituting a revealing three-way conversation between Anderson, Moroney and the deputy news editor for New Scientist in London, Jeremy Webb – showed Moroney, in diplomatic language, savaging an early version of the story. He suggested that large swathes be removed, including the emphasis on the Pearce Report, which by now he had personally dismissed: ‘I don’t completely understand why we spend so much time debunking Pearce. Is this because the Brits still think this is the definitive study on Maralinga?’
In fact, the document showed that Moroney suggested that nearly 50 per cent of the draft article be cut or greatly altered. Anderson disregarded most of these suggestions and changed only things that Moroney had shown were definitely wrong or skewed. One of Moroney’s colleagues was quoted in the article, and Moroney expressed some affront to him for allegedly stealing the limelight. Apart from this, though, he appeared happy with Anderson’s work, as were the other scientists who informed the story.
Anderson did not mention Moroney by name in the story, despite extensive dealings with him, which is a bit of a puzzle. Anderson later wrote an account of the article in which he said that ‘the story was confirmed by Moroney over the phone, although he did not want his name mentioned’, and so he used other names as sources. The gusto with which Moroney approached his ‘edit’ of the draft suggests he was not timid or media-shy. He had been shocked by the betrayal by the British that he had played a crucial role in revealing. Yet he did not ask for his name to be added when he looked over Anderson’s draft, despite suggesting major changes, and telling his colleagues that the credit for the uncovering should be his. The contradiction may be explained by Moroney’s longstanding career in secret nuclear business, cut across by his anger at the British. Was he defensive about being seen as gullible now the lies were revealed? The truth is unclear.
Moroney was a complex character who straddled two distinct eras in Australian relations with Britain. He may not have given Anderson a definite signal about what credit he wanted, but he undoubtedly provided the deep background that gave Anderson’s story its authority. He wasn’t completely cut out either. Anderson mentioned Moroney in his ABC Radio National Science Show broadcast, and in his application for the Michael Daley awards for science journalism. And Moroney was due to appear on ABC TV’s 7.30 Report when the story appeared, but this was cancelled because of his ill health.
As mentioned, Anderson’s article was published at a crucial time in the Australian ministerial-level negotiations with the British Government on Maralinga compensation. Simon Crean’s staff faxed the article to him in Europe, and it appears to have had an impact, though how much is difficult to measure. Anderson, a modest man, confirmed later that year that the article ‘added to the moral pressure that parliamentarians and others were bringing to bear on the British government to acknowledge its responsibilities and pay up’. But Anderson said that while it might look otherwise, the timing was not a deliberate strategy: ‘There was no collusion and the article was never mentioned in the negotiations’. The story came out just five days before the bilateral talks.
For Geoff Williams the article pulled together, for the first time, many of the threads of the Maralinga story and, in Anderson’s words, was ‘the first public airing of the betrayal by the British’. Tim Thwaites, in his New Scientist obituary for Anderson, said he ‘put pressure on the UK Government to make a significant commitment to cleaning up the nuclear test site at Maralinga’. In an obituary in the Guardian, Philip Jones claimed that his ‘evidence, and the media attention engendered by the material in such a prestigious science journal, played a crucial role in the successful conclusion of the talks’. When ‘Britain’s dirty deeds’ first came out, the Guardian was one of several UK newspapers that cited it in stories on the Maralinga negotiations.
Maralinga featured prominently in the Australian media once the article came out, leading to a marked revival of interest in the aftermath of the British tests. This matched the earlier heated coverage when the Royal Commission was taking evidence in 1984 and when it reported in 1985. Anderson personally promoted the story in various ways. On the Science Show he gave a radio-friendly summary about the significance of the article, saying, ‘Australia, represented by foreign minister Gareth Evans and energy minister Simon Crean, will present a strong and compelling case to Whitehall’. He also credited John Moroney and his lengthy involvement with Maralinga. He wrapped up his Science Show talk with a flourish:
If Australia is right, Britain misled a true and trusted ally and that ally is now paying for that trust. In monetary terms, Australia itself is facing large payouts as veterans of the British atomic tests at Maralinga press their claims in court. But will Britain pay its share for another clean up? Will it pay compensation to the Aborigines? Recent statements in the British Parliament suggest that it will not. It will stick to its belief that its obligations have been met. It’s just not cricket.
Australian metropolitan newspapers picked up the allegation of British deceit and the abundance of abandoned plutonium at Maralinga. A feature in the Sydney Morning Herald on 10 June 1993, prompted by a preview of Anderson’s story, revealed the fascinating fact that Dr Mike Costello, who worked for TAG, had probably helped create the Maralinga plutonium that was now causing so much controversy. The story reported that Costello had been a chemical engineer who had worked on plutonium for the UK Atomic Energy Authority in the late 1950s. The next day, a news article in The Age said the negotiations with Britain ‘could have been strengthened by new evidence’ in Anderson’s story and quoted the South Australian minister for Aboriginal Affairs Kym Mayes saying, ‘the British Government could not ignore the magazine’s allegations’.
Anderson’s article was not the only source of pressure on the UK Government, however. In 1993, a delegation of Aborigines from the Maralinga lands (including the prominent Indigenous activist Archie Barton) had arrived bearing sand from the region – not actually contaminated sand – which they placed on the steps of the British Houses of Parliament. British parliamentarians, notably the outspoken minister of state for the Armed Forces Archie Hamilton, had been asserting that the 1967 clean-up had been effective. Their message was undermined, though, when the government called in people wearing full contamination suits to remove the sand from the steps. As Peter Burns remarked, ‘They had said it was all right to live in this sand 24 hours a day, 365 days a year, camp in it, eat in it, hunt in it. But as soon as they put a few kilos on the steps they got guys in decontamination suits. Talk about a PR disaster’.