Oppenheimer’s Critical Omission: The Relocation of Hispanic and Indigenous Populations

Intricate but incomplete, Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer disregards the true history of Hispanic and Indigenous populations in New Mexico.

Trinity Nuclear Test. U.S. National Archives and Records Administration. CC0.

A picturesque aquamarine sky hangs lazily above a dusty, deserted New Mexico landscape. Through a tangle of brush, a lanky Robert Oppenheimer, played by Irish actor Cillian Murphy, emerges on horseback. His eyes feast on the remote plains and he declares that besides a local boys’ school and “Indian” burial grounds, Los Alamos will be the perfect site to construct the world’s first atomic weapons.

These momentous decisions and moral quandaries are explored in Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer. Grossing $450 million in its first fourteen days at the box office, the 1940s period piece has cemented itself as a somewhat unlikely cultural icon. Gone are the days of Nolan’s slightly fantastical films — notably Inception (2010) and Interstellar (2014). Recently, the Academy Award-nominated director has been dipping his toes in the realism of period pieces, beginning with Dunkirk (2017) and continuing with Oppenheimer.
Nolan’s portrayal of Oppenheimer — based on the biography American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer by Kai Bird and Martin J. Sherwin — is deliberately layered. The audience travels alongside Oppenheimer over the course of his life for three hours. On one hand, Oppenheimer’s humanity is a gut punch: viewers experience his mistress’s death, his tumultuous marriage, and his gradual realization of the death and destruction his scientific creation has wrought. On the other, viewers gaze upon the physicist with disgust: the man was, as he infamously declared himself, a destroyer of worlds.

J. Robert Oppenheimer. U.S. National Archives and Records Administration. CC0.

The use of the first atomic bomb by the United States to defeat Japan and win World War II is one of the signal events of the modern era, arguably helping to prevent a land invasion of Japan that could have killed millions. Despite the magnitude of this technical and geopolitical accomplishment, the legacy of the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki will forever cast a negative light on the United States government and the team of nuclear physicists involved in the development of the atomic bomb. While Nolan acknowledges this complex legacy, his portrayal of key elements of the Manhattan Project and the Los Alamos Laboratory obscures another historical moral quandary. The remote sandy vistas in Nolan’s cinematography smother the true story of Los Alamos and the Trinity nuclear test.

The reality, omitted from Nolan’s film, is that during the Manhattan Project the U.S. Government forcibly relocated Indigenous and Hispanic populations that resided in Los Alamos, New Mexico. Contrary to the movie’s dialogue, there were two dozen homesteaders and a ranch occupying the land that was taken by the government for the project, in addition to the school mentioned by Oppenheimer. The government seized the land and offered the owners compensation based on an appraisal of the land — an amount of compensation that the government itself thought was fit. Some homesteaders, however, objected to the compensation offered by the government, considering it far too little. Many in the Federal Government would eventually come to agree with them; in 2004, decades after the original compensation, Congress established a $10 million fund to pay back the homesteaders. 
Moreover, it was difficult for the homesteaders to object in the first place due to the language barrier. Most homesteaders spoke Spanish, while government officials often only communicated in English. Some families were even held at gunpoint as they were forced to leave with no explanation, due to the project’s secrecy. Livestock and other animals on property were shot or let loose. Livelihoods were destroyed along with these animals.

Los Alamos Colloquium of Physicists. Los Alamos National Laboratory. CC0.

The element of secrecy surrounding the Manhattan Project and the Trinity nuclear test disrupted the lives of families living directly on Los Alamos land. But, for the 13,000 New Mexicans living within a fifty mile radius of the Trinity test (in Jornada del Muerto, New Mexico), the nuclear explosion truly seemed to be the end of the world. Because the mushroom cloud was visible from up to 200 miles away from the test site, and no civilians knew tests were being conducted, fear erupted in concert with the explosion. 

Nolan’s film not only fails to indicate that homesteaders on Los Alamos were forcibly relocated — it also fails to mention that civilians from northern to southern New Mexico were exposed to harmful radiation from the bomb. Radioactive fallout initially contaminated water and livestock, and in turn, civilians. There were no studies or treatment conducted on individuals exposed to radiation, which could have exposed the highly classified program. Those who were in the radius or downwind of the fallout became known as “downwinders,” and began to develop autoimmune diseases, chronic illness and cancer. 

Manhattan Project U.S. Map. Wikimedia Commons. CC by 3.0.

Eventually, the Hispanic American and Indigenous populations who lived in the area returned to Los Alamos to work for the project without knowing its true nature or extent. They returned as maids or as construction workers, often handling radioactive and contaminated materials without knowledge of the harm and risk of exposure. Many became economically dependent on a laboratory that posed environmental and health risks for the greater Los Alamos population. This led to struggles with physical and mental health that have continued to the present time. 

The legacy of the Manhattan Project, the Los Alamos Laboratory and the Trinity nuclear test hangs in a state of limbo. It transcends time — becoming the past, present and future for Hispanic and Indigenous populations in New Mexico. Nolan’s failure to acknowledge these populations’ displacement and unwitting contamination silences their narratives and obscures this unique patrimony. J. Robert Oppenheimer’s depiction as a thumbtack in sandy nothingness is historically inaccurate — Nolan’s cinematic depiction of desolation glosses over a more complex reality. Los Alamos was, and is, living and breathing.


Carina Cole

Carina Cole is a Media Studies student with a Correlate in Creative Writing at Vassar College. She is an avid journalist and occasional flash fiction writer. Her passion for writing overlaps with environmentalism, feminism, social justice, and a desire to travel beyond the United States. When she’s not writing, you can find her meticulously curating playlists or picking up a paintbrush.

It’s Time to Decolonize Healthcare

Medicine has a long history of reinforcing colonial stereotypes.

Medical students at their induction ceremony at the University of Minnesota. Anthony Souffle. CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Have you heard that women are 73% more likely to experience serious injuries in a car crash than men? If you are curious as to why, it’s because when designing airbags and other safety features, auto manufacturers use crash-test dummies based on measurements of the average male. These so-called safety precautions are engineered to protect only half of the world’s population. The scariest part, however, is that car manufacturing is not the only industry in which such blatant exclusion and discrimination occur. The practice of medicine, whose sole purpose is to treat and cure people, has recently come under fire for having a foundation rife with antiquated and colonial ideas, upholding social hierarchies that alienate not just women, but people of non-European heritage. The term “decolonizing” here refers to efforts to eliminate these racist, sexist and homophobic ideals that existed during the initial development of the Western Medicine, in favor of methods that recognize and successfully treat the whole, diverse range of patients. This need for a decolonization of healthcare became especially apparent during the COVID-19 pandemic, as African Americans and Hispanic people were twice as likely to have severe cases of the disease as white Americans. Unfortunately, there is no equivalent of the average male crash-test dummy in this case. Western medicine as it is known and applied in many countries around the world has existed for hundreds of years, continuously cementing its elitist and exclusionary ideals.

Protestors in Portland, Oregon during the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020. Spencer Platt. CC BY-SA 2.0

As with most disciplines, medicine is practiced the way it is taught. Exclusionary principles date all the way back to the very origins of the field: even Aristotle described the female body as a mutilated version of the male one. These and other, similar beliefs have trickled down through the years, resulting in the white, heterosexual, able-bodied man being considered the “average” patient, while everyone else is forced to fit the cookie cutter treatments and medical services designed for a fraction of the population. This results in huge gaps in specific medical knowledge about women, people of color and people with disabilities that are often either ignored by the medical community or, more dangerously, are filled by blaming other, unrelated causes.

A prime example of this appears in the controversial condition termed “female hysteria” which, for hundreds of years, has been used by doctors (especially male ones) to label any women’s symptoms or behaviors they did not recognize. Far from being a historical phenomenon, psychology is still used today to brush aside the symptoms of female patients. Dr. Kate Young, a public health researcher from Monash University in Australia, is one of many medical professionals who has published research on how female patients suffering from endometriosis are often referred to as “reproductive bodies with hysterical tendencies,” furthering the harmful idea that women are oversensitive to pain and therefore are more inclined to exaggerate their discomfort.

Improving access to health education is crucial to help female patients deal with medical gaslighting. American Association of Nurse Practitioners. CC BY-SA 2.0

Of course, women are just one of many groups who stand at a systemic disadvantage when receiving medical care and advice, and the effects of racism on the health of people of color and minority populations have been studied extensively for years. In 1992, Professor Arline Geronimus of the University of Michigan proposed a concept called “weathering,” which describes the pattern of early health deterioration among African Americans as the consequences of constant and repeated experiences with socio-political marginalization and discrimination. Almost three decades later, doctors are finally starting to make the connection between this more or less forgotten idea and the disproportionately high incidences for African Americans of high blood pressure, strokes and even colon cancer, along with a host of other conditions.

While contemporary racism, both structural and otherwise, is definitely to blame, we cannot ignore medicine’s long history of excluding Black and Brown bodies in science and research, not to mention medical textbooks, illustrations and even case studies. Historically, the main use of people of color for medical study was as test subjects in unethical experiments, with no intention of using the results to better the medical conditions of these minorities. The Tuskegee Experiments are often the first such example that comes to mind: a study in which American researchers deliberately infected African American men with syphilis under false pretenses, and proceeded to withhold care in order to track the natural progression of the disease. However, other similar “studies” have occurred time and time again, with The Aversion Project singling out LGBTQ+ members of the South African military between 1971 and 1989, or the US government-run Guatemalan syphilis experiments of 1947 which duplicated the Tuskegee study on Guatemalan immigrants to the US. Like female hysteria, the perception that certain people are less deserving of treatment and are therefore more expendable has leached into the modern medical landscape. Fixing such deep-rooted issues will not only require a huge increase in diversity within the medical profession, but also a serious push towards increasing our understanding of how medicine and disease is experienced by a wide range of people.

Nurses in New York advocating for healthcare justice. New York State Nurses Association. CC BY-NC 2.0

Ridding healthcare systems of their colonial foundations will not happen overnight, but there are many individuals and organizations who are working to foster change. Here are a few that you can learn about and support in their efforts to increase diversity and inclusivity in the medical community:

  1. Dr. Annabel Sowemimo: In addition to being a noted doctor and academic, Dr Sowemimo is a prolific activist and writer, especially in regards to reproductive health. She founded the Reproductive Justice Initiative which focuses on reducing health inequalities and also published her first book earlier this year about racism in medicine titled “Divided: Racism, Healthcare, and Why We Need to Decolonize Healthcare.”

  2. Mind The Gap: Founded in late 2019, this project culminated in medical student Malone Mukwende publishing a handbook with staff at St George’s University of London that highlights how a variety of medical conditions present on patients with darker complexions.

  3. Dr. Nadine Caron: As the first female general surgeon of First Nations descent in Canada, Dr. Caron has long been an outspoken advocate for Indigenous people’s rights in both medical practice and research. In 2014, she co-founded the Center for Excellence in Indigenous Health at the University of British Columbia, her alma mater, which focuses on supporting research on Indigenous health.

  4. Advancing Health Equity: Founded in 2019 by Dr Uché Blackstock, an internationally recognized doctor, advocate and speaker, this organization partners with medical institutions and gives professional training on how to provide racially equitable healthcare and medical services.


Tanaya Vohra

Tanaya is an undergraduate student pursuing a major in Public Health at the University of Chicago. She's lived in Asia, Europe and North America and wants to share her love of travel and exploring new cultures through her writing.

Rewriting Constitutions: An Un-American Art

What the United States can learn from the world’s newest Constitutions.

We the People' by Nari Ward -- Sun Splashed Exhibit at the Barnes Foundation Philadelphia (PA) June 2016, Ron Cogswell, CC BY 2.0.

When the United States Constitution was first written only white landowning men had the right to vote, African Americans were legally considered two-thirds of a person, and there was no guarantee from year to year that the United States would continue to exist. Despite these shortcomings, among many others, the United States Constitution was revolutionary for its time, paving the way and serving as an example for virtually all the world’s early democracies. For this, it is and should be revered, and deserves a place in history books across the globe.

Today, the United States Constitution is over 230 years old and is the oldest functioning national constitution in the world. The document hasn’t remained untouched, with new additions such as a universal right to vote and other significant changes saving the constitution from becoming obsolete over the centuries. In total, the Constitution has been amended 27 times. The most recent change technically came in 1992 with the 27th amendment, which made it more difficult for Senators to change their salary. However, the last major change occurred 21 years before that with the 26th amendment, which lowered the voting age to 18. Back then, Richard Nixon was president, the US was still mired in the Vietnam War, and the internet did not yet exist.

March For Our Lives student protest for gun control, Fibonacci Blue, CC BY 2.0.

While some parts of the Constitution have managed to stay relevant, others have become detached from their original purpose. The second Amendment of the constitution, the right to bear arms as part of a well-regulated militia, was designed at a time when the strongest weapon available was a musket that could fire once every 15 or 20 seconds. Today, US citizens can buy weapons that can fire up to 45 times per minute. A well-regulated militia was allowed in case a need arose to fight back against a potentially tyrannical new government, a fear that, in the nascent weak United States unsure of its future, was justified. With the government and its democratic institutions now being well established, and the US military arsenal harboring thousands of planes, tanks, missiles, and many other deadly weapons, overthrowing the US government is not necessary or realistic.

Protest against a constitutional amendment banning same sex marriage, Fibonacci Blue, CC BY 2.0.

Beyond this, several critically important human rights are not included in the US Constitution. The United States Constitution is one of 28 in the world that does not guarantee gender equality. Moreover, the constitutions of 142 countries protect the right to universal health care and of 160 countries guarantee the right to education. The United States Constitution does not do either of these things.

The idea of a constitution as a sacred untouchable object is a uniquely American one. Many countries around the world either completely rewrite or heavily edit their constitutions quite frequently. Most nations will create a new constitution if their old one starts to become obsolete. This practice, over the past 3 decades, has led to some of the most liberal constitutions in the world.

Ecuador

Scenes around Quito, Ecuador, A.Davey, CC BY 2.0.

Ecuador rewrote its constitution in 2008, its government riding a political wave to create one of the most liberal constitutions in the world. This constitution became the first in the world to recognize that the environment has rights, a landmark moment in the international environmental movement. It also was one of the first constitutions to extend rights to people of any gender identity or sexuality. Beyond these progressive changes, Ecuador established an immigration grace period, allowing anyone to enter the country for 90 days without a Visa. The Comparative Constitution Project, an organization devoted to studying constitutions, says the Ecuadorian constitution guarantees 99 rights to its citizens. The next closest constitution only guarantees 88.

South Africa

Joburg Pride, Zoo Lake, Johannesburg, Gauteng, South Africa, South African Tourism, CC BY 2.0.

The South African Constitution was ratified on December 4, 1996, two years after the end of Apartheid. This constitution is well-known for being the first in the world to ban discrimination based on gender identity. This led to South Africa becoming one of the most progressive nations in protecting the rights of gender minorities. The constitutional law has had tangible results. Most notably in 2019, a transgender woman in a male prison was unable to express her identity, which the courts ruled was unconstitutional. In addition, similar to the Ecuadorian Constitution’s environmental protections, the South African constitution guarantees the right to a healthy environment.

Tunisia

Summer-heat in Tunis, Tunisia, Dag Endresen, CC BY 2.0.

The newest constitution of the Republic of Tunisia was passed in 2014 and is most notable for its advanced environmental laws. Like Ecuador and South Africa, the Tunisian Constitution gives citizens the right to a safe and healthy environment. However, the Tunisian constitution goes further, guaranteeing its citizens the right to participate in environmental protection. Finally, it even promises government support to ecological causes, noting that “the state shall provide the necessary means to eradicate pollution of the environment”. 

First Amendment to the US Constitution, elPadawan, CC BY-SA 2.0.

This is not to say the US Constitution should be rewritten. In fact, this article is not recommending a particular course of action. Rather, it is simply posing the idea that the constitutions are not as untouchable as they seem.


Jeremy Giles

Jeremy is a Writing Seminars and International Studies major at Johns Hopkins University. He is an avid writer and the Co-Founder of Writers’ Warehouse, Johns Hopkins’ first creative writing group. He is an advocate for Indigenous rights, and studies how Indigenous philosophies can be used to help prevent climate change. Using his writing, he hopes to bring attention to underrepresented voices in today’s world.