The Toxic Legacy: French Nuclear Testing in Algeria’s Sahara Desert
On the morning of February 13, 1960, a plutonium-filled atomic bomb detonated in the vast expanse of Algeria’s Sahara Desert. The explosion of “Blue Jerboa,” as the French military named this bomb, sent a mushroom cloud towering into the sky, with the extreme heat transforming the surrounding sand into black, glassy shards. Within 45 minutes of the blast, French President Charles de Gaulle triumphantly declared, “Hoorah for France. This morning she is stronger and prouder.”
This moment marked the beginning of one of the most troubling chapters in colonial and post-colonial history, a six-year period during which France conducted 17 nuclear weapons tests in the Algerian Sahara, leaving behind a toxic legacy that continues to poison relations between the two nations and devastate local communities more than six decades later.
Colonial Violence Extends Beyond Independence
The French nuclear testing program in Algeria represents a particularly stark example of the persistence of colonial violence even after the colonial relationship formally ends. What makes this case especially egregious is that most of these tests, 13 of the 17, occurred after Algeria had achieved independence in 1962, following a brutal eight-year war of liberation. The newly independent Algerian government was forced to accept a five-year lease allowing France to continue using the Saharan test sites, a concession they had long resisted but were compelled to make as part of the Evian Accords that ended the war.
The first test, Blue Jerboa, was three times more powerful than the atomic bomb dropped on Nagasaki in 1945. General Charles Ailleret, who commanded the operation, justified the location by claiming that “the total absence of all signs of life” made it ideal for nuclear testing. This assertion was demonstrably false. The town of Reggane, located just 50 kilometers from the test site, had more than 6,000 inhabitants at the time of the first detonation, according to local activist Abderrahmane Toumi, who founded a charity to support radiation victims.
Between 1960 and 1961, France conducted four atmospheric tests near Reggane in southwestern Algeria. When international criticism mounted, as radioactive fallout was detected as far away as Senegal, Ivory Coast, Burkina Faso, and Sudan, the French military moved operations 700 kilometers east to the Hoggar mountain range near In Ekker, where a further 13 underground tests took place through 1966.
Widespread Exposure and Lasting Contamination
The scale of exposure was enormous. French operations employed 6,500 engineers, soldiers, and researchers alongside 3,500 Algerian manual laborers. Beyond these workers, thousands more were exposed to radiation, including local Tuareg populations who had lived in the region for generations. The entire Sahara region was blanketed with nuclear fallout, with elevated atmospheric radioactivity detected as far as Khartoum in Sudan, more than 3000 kilometers from the test sites.
Even the supposedly safer underground tests proved catastrophic. During the “Beryl” test, the underground shaft was improperly sealed, spewing radioactive matter into the atmosphere and heavily contaminating nine soldiers and numerous government officials who had been invited to observe the blast. As scholar Jill Jarvis notes, “Radioactive dust still emanates from the Sahara, from those nuclear bombs, whose effects are absolutely indelible. In this sense, even the sand itself has been occupied by colonial occupation.”
Local researchers estimate that thousands of Algerians have suffered from the effects of nuclear radiation across the Saharan region. Many contaminated individuals died from what they were told were “rare illnesses,” without ever learning the true nature of their conditions. The long-term health effects began manifesting approximately 20 years after the first test and continue to affect new generations.
Mohamed Mahmoudi, a 49-year-old activist who believes he was exposed to radiation during military service near Reggane in the early 1990s, exemplifies the ongoing impact. He reports that authorities never informed him of the radiation risks, leaving him and others to discover the dangers only after developing health problems. Despite his efforts to document over 800 eligible compensation cases, he himself does not qualify for French compensation due to restrictive criteria.
The Failure of Justice
The inadequacy of France’s response to this humanitarian crisis is staggering. In 2010, the French parliament passed the Morin law, theoretically offering compensation to nuclear testing victims. However, the law’s restrictive requirements, including proof of residency during the testing period and recognition of only certain illnesses, have effectively excluded most Algerian victims. As of 2021, only one of 545 people who received compensation was Algerian, with the remainder being from French Polynesia, where France conducted nuclear tests from 1966 until 1996.
The 2021 Stora report, commissioned by French President Emmanuel Macron to improve Franco-Algerian relations, addressed the nuclear issue but offered only vague proposals for joint cleanup efforts without concrete commitments to compensation or full site decontamination. As Mohamed Mahmoudi wryly observed, “Stora is like a tailor. He sewed up exactly what France needs.”
Perhaps most troubling, many contaminated sites remain under the surface, and the Algerian government never received complete maps of the French experiments. Abderrahmane Toumi emphasizes this ongoing danger: “There is nuclear waste underground and we do not even know where it is located. Patients simply want to live in their hometowns without nuclear waste, that is all.”
A Pattern of Nuclear Colonialism
The French nuclear testing program in Algeria must be understood within the broader context of what scholars call “nuclear colonialism,” the systematic use and destruction of Indigenous and minority communities for uranium mining, weapons testing, and waste storage. From the American Southwest to the Pacific Islands to the Australian Outback, nuclear powers have consistently imposed the most dangerous aspects of their weapons programs on marginalized populations.
This pattern reflects how former colonial powers cemented their claims to global political influence through nuclear weapons programs, even as they transferred the greatest risks and costs to their former colonies and Indigenous communities. The disproportionate impact on Black, Indigenous, and communities of color worldwide reveals the deeply racist foundations underpinning a world awash in nuclear weapons.
The Ongoing Struggle for Justice
Today, the fight for transparency and justice continues. Algerian military leaders have called on France to acknowledge its historic responsibilities and comply with the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, which was negotiated in 2017 and which calls on nuclear powers to address past harms. Local activists continue documenting cases and demanding site cleanup and fair compensation.
The toxic legacies of nuclear weapons and colonialism are inseparable. As the nuclear age began during the collapse of formal empires, post-colonial states inherited not only political independence but also the devastating environmental and health consequences of their former colonizers’ weapons programs. Truly ending the ongoing effects of colonialism requires not only acknowledging these historical injustices but taking concrete steps toward abolishing nuclear weapons and restoring justice for all those impacted by their existence.
The radioactive sand of the Sahara continues to blow across North Africa, carrying with it the indelible marks of colonial violence and serving as a reminder that the promise of decolonization remains unfulfilled so long as communities continue to suffer from the toxic legacy of nuclear weapons testing. Until France fully acknowledges its responsibilities and takes meaningful action to address the ongoing contamination in Algeria, the mushroom cloud that rose over Reggane in 1960 will continue to cast its shadow over Franco-Algerian relations and the health of Saharan communities.