By Joshua Lawson
Friday, May 24, 2019
The opening lines of HBO’s “Chernobyl” miniseries set the
tone for what’s at stake during its terrifying, unflinching look at the worst
nuclear plant disaster in history:
‘What is the cost of lies? It’s not
that we’ll mistake them for the truth. The real danger is that if we hear
enough lies then we no longer recognize the truth at all.’
On April 26, 1986, two explosions rocked the Chernobyl
nuclear power plant in Pripyat, Soviet Ukraine. The devastating event released
400 times the amount of radioactive fallout than the bombing of Hiroshima and
at one point threatened the lives of millions of Europeans as far away as
Germany.
Creator Craig Mazin’s dramatization of the crisis
features exceptional acting, writing, and direction. The show’s haunting
atmosphere lingers far after the credits roll. It is an altogether wrenching
account of the disaster and the countless lives affected. But beneath the
show’s retelling of the explosion and its aftermath lies an investigation of
the perils of unchecked government power.
The Soviet Union may have been already on its way to the
dustbin of history by 1986, but the regime’s poisonous effects are on full
display during the miniseries. “Chernobyl” offers a glimpse into the crippling
effects of statism. When the truth is needed to save lives, it is stifled. When
recklessly misguided authority figures need to be questioned, they are shielded
by the fear they instill and the political positions they hold.
The Fight of the
Truth Seekers
At its core, HBO’s “Chernobyl” is a tragic tale of heroic
individuals fighting against a government designed by its nature to thwart any
who oppose it. In their search for the cause of the catastrophe, scientists are
tailed by the Soviet Union’s KGB secret police. Members of the very commission
tasked with investigating the Chernobyl incident have their phones tapped.
They’re brazenly threatened in public. They’re temporarily detained. The
scientists and nuclear experts Mikhail Gorbachev’s Soviet regime needs to be
free to uncover the truth are repeatedly stymied and silenced by their own
government.
Young men who should be apprenticing are thrust into
engineering positions they are unqualified to administer. Concerns over the
stability and safety of vital nuclear equipment—most critically, Soviet-made
RBMK reactors—are shrugged aside or buried in layer upon layer of bureaucratic
red tape.
The dosimeters available to plant workers for measuring
harmful radiation are woefully cheap and inadequate. They can detect up to 3.6
roentgens per hour. The worst-affected parts of the plant contained radiation
levels of more than 20,000 r/h. Chernobyl’s higher-quality dosimeter, capable
of detecting up to 1,000 r/h, is locked away in a safe and the first personnel
to think of using it don’t have the key. When it’s finally found, it burns out
the second it is turned on.
One of the most chilling early scenes of HBO’s series
comes four hours after the initial explosion. A lone dissenting voice of the
local Pripyat executive committee says the city should be evacuated. He is
treated like Chicken Little and told by party men that radiation levels are
“mild” and “limited to the plant itself.”
An elder of the committee, brilliantly played by Donald
Sumpter, rises and tells the gathering, “When the people ask questions that are
not in their own best interests, they should keep their minds on their labor
and leave matters of the state to the state.” At the conclusion of his speech,
he implores the men to seal the exits of the city and to have faith in Soviet
socialism. For this, the committee rewards him with a standing ovation.
Chemistry professor Valery Legasov heads the Chernobyl
investigative commission and is one of the brave few to speak the truth in a
society crippled by fear and complacency: “To them, a just world is a sane
world. There was nothing sane about Chernobyl. What happened there, what
happened after, even the good we did, all of it…all of it…madness.”
The evacuation of Pripyat and the surrounding area should
have begun in the early morning of April 26. Instead, it would not start until
more than 37 hours after the explosion. The number of cancer deaths and
long-term health effects caused by this costly delay is incalculable. Given
that more than 49,000 residents lived in Pripyat, contemplating the unnecessary
death toll is heartbreaking.
In a meeting with Soviet leadership, career party
officials shrug off the amount of radiation at the plant as “the equivalent of
a chest X-ray.” In reality, single pieces of graphite debris from the exploded
reactor core contain radiation worth more than 4 million chest X-rays. When
Jared Harris’s Legasov relays this startling fact to the government, he is
labeled an “alarmist” and a “hysteric.” Legasov is one of the chief nuclear
experts in the nation, yet his words fall on deaf ears. He is initially ignored
simply because his reporting went against the approved lies of the communist
leadership.
Fallout of the
Modern Leviathan
Mazin’s “Chernobyl” depicts the nuclear and political
fallout of what happens when an embarrassing disaster strikes in a one-party,
authoritarian society. The Soviet Union is the communist, 1986 version of the
all-powerful state Thomas Hobbes called for 300 years earlier in his work
“Leviathan” (named after the biblical sea monster). For Hobbes, an absolute
government was required to maintain law, order, and stability—unchecked by any
separation of powers or mechanisms that would dilute the power of the state.
Taken out of the realm of theory and into the real world,
Hobbes’s leviathan becomes so singularly focused on maintaining order that its
highly regimented society is governed entirely through fear. Throughout
“Chernobyl” we see fear of the state repeatedly drive good, smart men to doubt
their instincts and follow nonsensical orders. Whether the Soviet Union, Mao
Zedong’s China, or Kim Jong-Un’s North Korea, the results have been the same.
The nationality of the government leviathan is
irrelevant—the size and control wielded by the statist monster is the ultimate
issue. A theoretical North Korean response to a similar disaster as the one
featured in “Chernobyl” is eminently predictable. Lies, obfuscation, and
misinformation would abound. Outside help and assistance would be rejected,
worsening the crisis. Those who would truthfully speak of the dire nature of
the catastrophe would be suppressed, or worse. Like with Chernobyl, the blame
would constantly shift, further clouding the truth.
The few North Korean scientists with the requisite
knowledge to assess the situation would be ignored or silenced if the results
weren’t what government officials wanted to hear. Many would understandably
remain quiet to prevent reprisals against their family and loved ones. The more
authority the government possesses, the harder it is to effectively fight back.
In a statist society, fear has a lot in common with radiation—it
seeps into every crack of life. And like radiation, fear is a slow, painful
killer. Bold heroes like Legasov are the exception in statist regimes, not the
rule. When faced with the terrifying, omnipotent power of a leviathan like the
U.S.S.R., resisting the state is difficult at best and a death sentence at
worst.
Finding Hope
Amidst the Despair
“Chernobyl” is at times hard to watch. This is partly due
to its graphic depiction of the horrific effects of radiation sickness. But it
is also difficult to witness the larger tragedy unfolding. Virtuous men and
women lie trapped in a life-sucking, hopeless society—an evil empire dominated
by dread and suspicion, governmental privilege, and crippling regulation. Few
shows have been so bleak.
Still, “Chernobyl” offers its audience glimmers of hope.
There is Emily Watson’s Ulana Khomyuk, who helps stop the spread of the
disaster. There are the hundreds of miners who worked round-the-clock to
prevent the poisoning of Ukraine’s water supply. Then, there are the three
volunteers who really did venture into the heart of the facility at great risk
to prevent a complete meltdown that would have killed millions.
Yet the heart of “Chernobyl” lies with Valery Legasov. It
is through Harris’s moving portrayal of Professor Legasov that we are reminded
of the personal human cost of the lies weaved by an authoritarian state—and
that it is possible to stand up to tyranny and corruption, even though we know
it may cost us everything.
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