As the African proverb goes, “Until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter.”
Oppenheimer exemplifies this proverb by glorifying one aspect of history while overlooking another that is equally, if not more, significant. The story of the making of the world’s first atomic bomb is important and complex and has heroes and victims beyond those celebrated in Oppenheimer.
This is the lion’s story.
Oppenheimer, which is in pole position to win the Academy Award for Best Picture on March 10, 2024, is a visually stunning cinematic portrayal of the development of the atomic bomb. It focuses mostly on scientific and military developments in the US – and certain ethical considerations – but unfortunately omits a dark and essential aspect of the story: the Congo, and the forced nature of its contribution to the Allied victory.
The Congolese were exploited for their labor and vital resources, including copper, rubber and, most notably, their extraordinarily high-grade uranium ore, with uranium concentration of up to a staggering 65% – dwarfing the standard global average of less than 1%.
This highly concentrated uranium was pivotal to the manufacturing of the atomic bomb, as highlighted by Albert Einstein. In a now famous letter to President Roosevelt dated August 2, 1939 that is referenced in Oppenheimer. Albert Einstein explicitly states a crucial fact that the movie ignores: “…the most important source of uranium is the Belgian Congo.” Because of Einstein’s credibility, this letter was instrumental to the US decision to develop the atomic bomb, and, critically, to do it before the Germans could.
The Manhattan Project was launched in 1942, and on September 26, 1944, a highly secretive agreement was signed between the US, the UK, and Union Minière du Haut-Katanga (UMHK) for the purchase of greater quantities of the Congo’s Shinkolobwe mine’s high-grade uranium, which was essential for the atomic bomb’s production.
Without the Congo, the story of J. Robert Oppenheimer might have unfolded very differently, if at all. One could even argue: no Shinkolobwe, no atomic bomb.
Congolese workers labored day and night at Shinkolobwe, enduring perilous conditions to perform the secretive, hazardous, and radiation-laden excavations essential for uranium extraction. They strove to meet the exacting and punishingly high quotas, in both quantity and speed, demanded by the US. Moreover, even as hundreds of tons of uranium ore were being sent each month to the Manhattan Project facilities, these miners had no protective clothing and were unaware of the toxicity of the material they were excavating with their bare hands.
Ultimately, the Shinkolobwe mine provided nearly two-thirds of the enriched uranium used for the “Little Boy” bomb dropped on Hiroshima, while also supplying a substantial portion of the uranium converted into the plutonium used in the “Fat Man” bomb detonated on Nagasaki just three days later. Without the Congo, the story of J. Robert Oppenheimer might have unfolded very differently, if at all. One could even argue: no Shinkolobwe, no atomic bomb.
Yet, in Oppenheimer, there is no mention of Shinkolobwe, the miners, or their story – not even a passing reference. Didn’t J. Robert Oppenheimer question where all the “freakishly” high-grade uranium was coming from? When we see him agonizing over the massive weapon of destruction that he has just sired, confessing “I have blood on my hands.” Wouldn’t such a guilty conscience have also voiced concerns for the unfortunate souls who mined the uranium necessary for the invention to work in the first place?
Of course, even a three-hour biopic such as Oppenheimer cannot address every dimension of the atomic bomb’s vast legacy. Still, even a brief mention of the role played by the Congolese would have spoken volumes about “authentic” inclusivity at a time when the word is increasingly used as a nod to token acts of diversity – often designed, in fact, to protect and preserve the status quo.
And when, conversely, such a critical aspect of the story is omitted, it puts into stark relief the consequences of narrating history from the same perspective, over and over again.
“Until the lion learns to write, every story will glorify the hunter.”
– African proverb
It would have also been a well-deserved acknowledgement of the profound suffering and indispensable contributions of the Congolese people, who paid a heavy price in a war that was not of their own choosing and in which they had no direct interest.
There are no official statistics on the number of fatalities, or the extent of the ongoing suffering caused by the radioactivity that continues to contaminate the water residents drink, the air they breathe, and the food they consume in the Shinkolobwe region. The veil of secrecy that continues to shroud events at Shinkolobwe, even eighty years on, suggests that the stories of these men, women, and children may never be told.
Oppenheimer presented a unique opportunity to scatter a few neutrons to hint at the presence of a story that merits deeper investigation. This could have triggered its own chain reaction of discovery and understanding. Embracing a broad array of perspectives not only enriches our understanding of the past but also sheds light on the present.
Take Ousmane Sembène. At the age of 21, Sembène, a Senegalese bricklayer, was drafted alongside 179,000 other Senegalese men under French colonial rule into the Free French Army to fight in World War II. The lessons absent from his French history books, he learned firsthand on the battlefield:
“In the army we saw those who considered themselves our masters naked, in tears, some cowardly or ignorant. When a white soldier asked me to write a letter for him, it was a revelation – I thought all Europeans knew how to write. The war demystified the colonizer; the veil fell.”
– Ousmane Sembène
The lie of white superiority had been exposed, and the sober reckoning that followed sowed the seeds for the post-war decolonization movements across Africa. It also catalyzed a wave of post – colonial creativity in the arts.
Sembène would become a highly acclaimed director, producer and writer, recognized by many as the “Father of African Film.” Through his vast canon of work, he explored how the shattering of this myth transformed both the African’s perception of self and the continent’s interactions with the West. In Emitaï, a film based on a true story, he presents World War II through an African lens: a Senegalese village places its religious convictions above the requirements imposed by their French colonizers – with tragic consequences.
The solution lies in embracing greater diversity among the people who tell these stories, who direct and produce films, and in the variety of locations where these narratives unfold. Today the African film industry boasts rich talent and fresh narratives that highlight overlooked global perspectives rooted in the continent’s rich cultural heritage. Many African filmmakers welcome collaborative partners to help bring these inclusive stories to worldwide audiences. What they often lack is the financing, technology, and distribution reach to bring such projects to life, despite a growing and more diverse global audience. Fortunately, such collaborations are already happening in the African music industry.
In the movie industry, The Walt Disney Company and Kugali Media‘s recent collaboration on Iwájú is encouraging. I would love to see an African filmmaker add another dimension to our understanding of the Manhattan Project by telling the Shinkolobwe story – as a documentary, a scripted drama, or both. Where are our 21st century Ousmane Sembènes?
It’s time for the lion to roar.
This article originally appeared on LinkedIn.
