Latest / The History of Belgium: A Small Country with a Giant Colonial Legacy — Fexingo History / The Belgian Congo's Uranium: How a Secret Mine Built the Atomic Bomb
Transcript
- Lucas: Welcome back to The History of Belgium. I'm Lucas, and with me as always is Luna. Today we're going somewhere we haven't gone before — underground, literally. Into a mine that changed the course of the 20th century. Luna: A mine? In the Congo, I assume? Lucas: Exactly. The Shinkolobwe uranium mine, in the Katanga province of the Belgian Congo. If you've ever wondered where the uranium for the atomic bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki actually came from — the answer is almost entirely from this one place. Lucas: By the time the Manhattan Project was underway in 1942, the US needed uranium oxide — and fast. The only known high-grade deposit in the world was Shinkolobwe. It had been discovered years earlier, in 1915, by a Belgian geologist named Jules Cornet, working for the Union Minière du Haut-Katanga. Luna: Wait — uranium was being mined that early? Before anyone even knew about nuclear fission? Lucas: Amazingly, yes. Initially it was for radium, which was used in medical treatments and luminous paint. Marie Curie herself visited the mine in 1925 — she was given a sample of pitchblende from Shinkolobwe. The uranium was essentially a waste product. They didn't know what to do with it. Lucas: But one man did see its potential. Edgar Sengier, the director of Union Minière's operations in New York. In 1940, as the Germans were sweeping through Belgium, Sengier had a hunch that this uranium might be valuable for military research. So he did something extraordinary. Luna: What did he do? Lucas: He secretly shipped 1,200 tons of uranium ore from Shinkolobwe to a warehouse in Staten Island, New York. He stored it there, just sitting, waiting. When the Americans finally started the Manhattan Project, they came knocking — and Sengier was able to say, 'I have it ready for you.' Lucas: The US military called him 'the man who won the war.' He was awarded the Medal for Merit in 1946. But the story is much darker than a patriotic tale. Luna: What about the Congolese workers? Were they told what they were mining? Lucas: They were not. The mine was operated under strict secrecy. The workers — mostly local men conscripted through the colonial forced labor system — were told they were mining a 'special mineral.' They weren't given any protective equipment. They handled the ore with their bare hands. Lucas: The mine had been closed in 1937 because of falling radium prices, but it was reopened under a shroud of secrecy. The US Army even sent an officer, Captain John K. R. — I'm forgetting the name — but essentially they took over the operation. The ore was transported by rail to Lobito in Angola, then by ship to the US. Luna: Did anyone in the Congo ever find out what they were really mining? Lucas: Not until much later. Even after the war, the mine's true purpose was classified. It wasn't until the 1990s that the full story emerged. And the health effects on the miners were catastrophic. They suffered from radiation sickness, cancers, and birth defects — all covered up by the colonial administration and later by the independent Congolese government pressured by Cold War interests. Lucas: In fact, after the war, the US and Belgium signed a secret agreement to keep the mine under American control. Shinkolobwe continued producing uranium for the US nuclear arsenal throughout the Cold War. It wasn't until 1960, just after Congo's independence, that the mine was finally closed — but not before it had left a toxic legacy. Luna: So the Belgian Congo essentially supplied the raw material for the nuclear age — and paid the price in silence. Lucas: Exactly. And it's not just about the bombs. Uranium from Shinkolobwe also powered the first nuclear reactors, including the one at Hanford that produced plutonium for the Trinity test. Without this mine, the entire timeline of nuclear history would have been different. Lucas: There's a famous story that in 1942, Enrico Fermi and other physicists were worried they wouldn't have enough uranium for a sustained chain reaction. Then they learned about Sengier's stash in New York. It was like a miracle. Luna: But a miracle built on colonial exploitation. Lucas: Precisely. And that's the uncomfortable truth. Belgium's colonial legacy isn't just about rubber and ivory — it's also about uranium. The same hands that were forced to harvest rubber were forced to dig up the ore that ended the war in the Pacific. Lucas: Today, the Shinkolobwe mine is abandoned, flooded, and dangerous. Local people still live nearby, and there have been cases of artisanal miners trying to extract cobalt and copper from the tailings, unaware of the radiation. Efforts to clean it up have been minimal. Luna: So what's being done to address the legacy? Lucas: Very little, honestly. In 2004, the Congolese government signed an agreement with a Canadian company to re-exploit the mine for uranium, but it never materialized due to international pressure. The area remains a radioactive hot spot. And the victims — the miners and their families — have never received compensation from either Belgium or the US. Lucas: It's a story that challenges the heroic narrative of the Manhattan Project. The bomb may have ended the war, but it also began a new era of nuclear anxiety — and it all started with a mine in the heart of Africa. Luna: I had no idea Belgium played such a pivotal role in the atomic age. Lucas: Most people don't. And that's why it's important to talk about it. The history of Belgium is not just about a small European kingdom — it's about how that kingdom's reach extended across the globe, for better and for worse. Lucas: So next time you hear about Hiroshima, think of Shinkolobwe. And think of the thousands of Congolese workers whose labor made it possible, but whose names we'll never know. Luna: A sobering thought to end on. Thanks, Lucas. Lucas: Thank you, Luna. And thank you for listening. We'll be back next time with another story from Belgium's hidden history.