The Radioactive Legacy of Colonialism: France’s Unremedied Nuclear Crimes in Algeria
On this day in history: February 13, 1960, Algeria...
More than six decades have passed since France detonated its first nuclear bomb in Algeria, yet the poisoned legacy of those explosions continues to contaminate bodies, air, and land. This lingering trauma is not only a symbol of France's colonial violence—it is irrefutable evidence of how colonialism left behind crimes so vast and destructive they transcend time and borders. The nuclear tests conducted between 1960 and 1966 in Algeria were not mere scientific endeavors. They were acts of environmental, biological, and geopolitical aggression. And they remain, to this day, unremedied.
The Bombs Beneath the Sand: A Colonial Theater for Nuclear Power
On February 13, 1960, in the Algerian Sahara near Reggane, France entered the nuclear club with the detonation of “Gerboise Bleue” (Blue Jerboa), a bomb four times more powerful than the one dropped on Hiroshima. The explosion was greeted with jubilation in Paris. French newspapers celebrated the country’s new strength. Yet, buried beneath the nationalist pride was a dark truth: France had chosen Algeria—then still under colonial rule—as the sacrificial ground for its nuclear ambitions.
Why Algeria? Because, as documents and officials of the time stated, it was considered remote, depopulated, and expendable. In truth, the Sahara was home to communities of nomadic peoples, to Algerian families, and to prisoners of war, many of whom were exploited as human test subjects. Even French soldiers were exposed without proper training or protection. The desert was not empty. It was chosen precisely because colonialism allowed it to be treated as a non-place, a space outside of ethical and legal accountability.
Seventeen Tests, Zero Accountability
Between 1960 and 1966, France carried out 17 nuclear tests in Algeria: four above-ground in Reggane, and thirteen underground in In Ekker. Multiple tests led to catastrophic radioactive leaks. In the infamous “Beryl” test of May 1962, a failed seal allowed radioactive lava and gas to spew into the open air, contaminating hundreds, including high-ranking military officials and soldiers. Civilians in the surrounding areas—mostly Algerians—were neither warned nor evacuated.
Worse still, reports reveal that France conducted experiments using Algerian prisoners as live test subjects. Eyewitnesses and declassified documents confirm that over 150 detainees were tied at various distances from blast zones to observe how radiation affected the human body. Such crimes mirror the worst abuses in human experimentation history, yet they are still denied full recognition.
Radiation That Never Left
The damage did not end when the explosions stopped. France left behind radioactive waste, contaminated equipment, and buried secrets. No maps of nuclear waste burial sites were ever handed over to Algeria. No systematic clean-up was conducted. Decades later, scrap metal scavenged from irradiated zones is used in construction. Nomadic communities still roam lands where Geiger counters register dangerous levels of radiation. Children are born with deformities. Survivors suffer from cancers, respiratory diseases, and genetic mutations.
The environmental impact is equally severe. Toxic elements seep into the soil and water systems. Livestock die inexplicably. Vegetation fails to grow. In some areas like In Ekker, experts found residual radioactive contamination in lava-like material formed during nuclear detonation. Yet, the French government continues to withhold detailed data under the veil of “military secrecy.”
France’s Refusal to Confront Its Nuclear Colonialism
While France has publicly acknowledged the impact of its nuclear testing in French Polynesia, its approach to Algeria has remained dismissive. There has been no formal apology, no reparations for victims, and no complete disclosure of hazardous sites. This selective memory is not accidental—it is a political choice that mirrors colonial attitudes: recognition for “citizens,” silence for “subjects.”
Statements from Algerian officials, including President Abdelmadjid Tebboune and parliamentary leaders, reiterate the demand for justice. They call for France to disclose the location of radioactive waste, clean up contaminated sites, and compensate affected communities. International organizations, including the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN), have echoed these calls.
Yet, the response from Paris remains tepid. The crimes are too old, they argue. The records are incomplete. The damage, they claim, is overstated. But radiation doesn’t disappear with time. Neither do colonial wounds.
The Poisonous Legacy of Colonialism
Colonialism was not merely a theft of land—it was a theft of life, dignity, and future. Nuclear testing in Algeria exemplifies how colonial regimes exploited entire populations as disposable. The long-term effects of these experiments—ranging from ecological devastation to intergenerational health crises—are an ongoing violation of human rights.
France’s nuclear crimes in Algeria are not just history—they are a present reality. They remind us that colonialism was not a bygone era, but a system whose aftermath remains embedded in bodies, landscapes, and legal frameworks that still deny justice to the colonized.
If we are serious about human rights, then colonialism must be recognized globally not only as a historical injustice, but as a continuing crime. And until France owns its toxic legacy—through truth, reparations, and environmental restoration—its nuclear shadow will remain a stain on its democratic claims.