Radiation, Once Free, Can Follow Tricky Path
By ELISABETH ROSENTHAL
Ten days after an earthquake and tsunami crippled a nuclear plant in Japan, officials are detecting abnormal levels of radiation in what may seem like a scattershot assortment of foods: milk from Fukushima Prefecture, where the reactors sit; spinach from Ibaraki Prefecture to the south; canola from Gunma Prefecture to the west; and chrysanthemum greens from Chiba to the south. Shipments of the milk and spinach have been banned.
Experts hesitate to predict where the radiation will go. Once radioactive elements that can harm health are released into the outdoors, their travel patterns are as mercurial as the weather and as complicated as the food chains and biochemical pathways along which they move.
When and where radioactive contamination becomes a problem depends on a vast array of factors: the specific element released, which way the wind is blowing, whether rain will bring suspended radioactivity to earth, and what types of crops and animals are in an exposed area.
Research related to the 1986 Chernobyl accident makes clear that for decades, scientists will be able to detect the presence of radioactive particles released by the crippled Japanese reactors thousands of miles away. Scientists and doctors in Japan and abroad will be monitoring the results to see if those measurements reach dangerous levels. So far there is no indication that anyone has been harmed by eating contaminated food.
“It’s natural that people worldwide will be monitoring for this — just in case it is far worse than we now expect,” said F. Ward Whicker, a professor emeritus at Colorado State University who developed a leading model for following radiation through the food chain.
When radiation is released with gas, as it was at the Japanese reactors, the particles are carried by prevailing winds, and some will settle on the earth. Rain will knock more of the suspended particles to the ground. “There is an extremely complex interaction between the type of radionuclide and the weather and the type of vegetation,” Dr. Whicker said. “There can be hot spots far away from an accident, and places in between that are fine.”
The principal elements that have been released from reactors at the Fukushima Daiichi plant are iodine 131 and cesium 137. Cesium is dangerous because it is long-lived and travels easily through the food chain, continuing to emit particles for centuries once it is released.
More than 15 years after the Chernobyl accident in what is now Ukraine, studies found that cesium 137 was still detectable in wild boar in Croatia and reindeer in Norway, with the levels high enough in some areas to pose a potential danger to people who consume a great deal of the meat.
While iodine 131 is much shorter lived — its radioactive potency is halved every eight days — it is dangerous because it concentrates in the thyroid gland, resulting in high radiation doses to that vulnerable organ. The thyroid is such an iodine magnet that Dr. Whicker recounts that a week after a nuclear weapons test in China, iodine 131 could be detected in the thyroid glands of deer in Colorado, although it could not be detected in the air or in nearby vegetation.
Initially, some plants will collect more radiation than others: those with big leaves like lettuce, spinach and other greens will naturally collect more radiation than apples, oranges or potatoes, he said. Foods like rice and corn whose edible portion is protected by husks or leaves are relatively safe in this early stage.
But over a period of weeks, the radioactivity particles enter the food chain when they are ingested by animals or settle into dirt where they can be absorbed by the roots of growing plants. Soils with high clay content tend to bind radioactive elements and hinder their travel, while sandy soils allow more of the radiation to pass into growing food.
Long-lasting particles of cesium 137 can cycle through an ecosystem for decades, entering plants when they are taken up by root systems and returning to the earth when the plant dies.
For the first time on Monday, Japanese nuclear officials said that some of the water used to douse and cool the damaged reactors had reached the ocean, raising the possibility that seafood might eventually be at risk, too. The officials said they would monitor the situation. Scientists generally measure radioactivity of local mussels and seaweed to assess the level of contamination.
Experts suggest that levels would have to be watched closely because cesium 137 concentrates in fish muscle much as mercury does when it moves up the food chain from plankton to small fish to big fish. “I would definitely be monitoring fish populations in the area, since there may be certain items that should be avoided,” said Nicholas Fisher, a professor of marine sciences at the State University of New York at Stony Brook.
In a worst-case scenario, said Paul Falkowski, a professor of marine sciences and geology at Rutgers University, a major ocean current that travels up the coast of Japan, across the Pacific and into the Gulf of Alaska could carry radiation to Alaska fisheries months from now. He said the International Atomic Energy Agency should monitor such movements, although he and other experts considered it highly unlikely that the current would take the radiation to Alaska unless the leak became far worse.
Many fish and the oceans already contain radiation, both naturally occurring and as a result of prior nuclear testing, said Dr. Fisher, who said that added current levels from the damaged reactors were not likely to be significant in terms of human health.
But he and other experts say that vigilance is crucial because problematic levels of radiation can turn up unexpectedly.
After the Chernobyl accident, some relatively distant villages were contaminated with fallout of iodine 131, and local cows ate grass that contained the radiation. Children who drank milk from those cows ended up with high rates of thyroid cancer.














In
Pretor-Pinney’s world, there is a rich and endless discourse about the
puffs of air and moisture that most of us take for granted. The basic
science of clouds is easy: when air rises, it expands and (as with any
gas) cools, and when it cools, some of its moisture condenses. The
advanced science, and the interactions of clouds with landscape,
weather cycles and humans, is fraught with complexity. “The problem is
that it’s not a contained system,” says Pretor-Pinney. “These air
masses are interacting with each other and it’s all very chaotic and
turbulent. So actually pinning down what is happening, what’s moving
and how it’s changing in temperature is quite complicated.










As Peter Madden, chief executive of Forum for the Future, puts it: “It is clearly more difficult to raise money now, but a lot of the ideas we have been looking at are going to save money as well as greenhouse gas emissions.
Alas, many highly promising ideas did not make the final shortlist: among them, a proposal to use mobile telephone texts to arrange shared taxi rides in London, and an idea for solar-powered internet centres for Africa.
Mr Barber commented: “Carbonscape has the potential to be an efficient and effective solution to the problem of rising greenhouse gas levels. Its feasibility has been proven and it could have a truly global impact.”
Sir Terry said: “As well as reducing carbon emissions and deforestation, this cheap and simple idea could save people in developing countries time and money.”
Air conditioning accounts for a significant proportion of electricity use, particularly in the US, and is growing rapidly in the developing world: reducing its demand for power could make a real difference to energy consumption.
Walking
into any of the diverse independent stores lining Lewes’ high street,
one immediately senses the fierce loyalty residents have to their
traders. May’s General Store, resplendent in cream woodwork and
hand-painted maroon signage, is one of the shops authorised to issue
Lewes pounds at an exchange rate of one to one sterling. Inside there
is barely room to move among an eclectic mix of well-groomed mothers,
young hippy types, middle-aged businessmen and pensioners browsing
shelves laden with everything from whole-foods to ethnic textiles,
clothing to fine bone china. It’s the sort of shop that seems to have
disappeared from other UK towns and its owner, Sue May, presides over
proceedings with a brisk, school-marmish authority, dispensing
home-baked bread pudding to regulars while giving the low-down on
Lewes’ alternative currency project.
Other
teething problems have also been overcome. The first 3,000 notes,
handsomely printed with pictures of Paine, were snapped up within days
of issue but many were hoarded by collectors or speculators who sold
them on Ebay for up to £35 each. Eventually more notes were issued to
solve the liquidity problem – although van Heel is quick to point out
that there was no inflationary effect. “As you have to exchange one
pound sterling for every Lewes pound, there’s no overall increase in
the number of notes in circulation. That’s why we chose to back our
currency with ‘fiat’ money, that is, the legal currency of the realm,”
he says.
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