Advice for Conspiracy Theorists

This post has been waiting to be written for quite some time. I have nearly written it, thought better of it, and convinced myself to back down several times in the past few months; a peek into a controversial blog this morning determined me to finally do it and get it out of my system. So here goes: tonight’s entry is about conspiracy theorists, how folks respond to them, and how they can help themselves.

People are anxious these days. They are fearful and mistrustful. You could even say that many have become paranoid. While government and TEPCO officials present the current situation at Fukushima Daiichi in a positive light (things are stable and progressing smoothly towards cold shutdown, the de-contamination efforts are going well, etc.) , various underground figures in the blog world are having a heyday, spouting hatred and spreading panic not only within Japan, but overseas as well.  Mind you, I believe the situation here is far from stable (despite official reports to the contrary), but I have had quite enough of wild speculation and bizarre conspiracy theories. To be precise, I’ve had enough of one specific fellow, a blogger from Yokohama who churns out posts at a prodigious rate, each one stranger than the one before.

So, ignore him, you say. Well, I’d like to, but I can’t.  This is because the blogger in question has such a large and devoted following, and I am fascinated to see how his fans respond to his over-the-top declarations. I’m involved in a sociological study (despite the nagging inner voice that says to let it go, and certainly against my own better judgement), and what I find is deeply disturbing. Let me provide some background first…..

The blogger is a young man, single, living in Yokohama with his beloved turtles. I keep turtles myself, but that’s as far as our shared interests goes.  He lists his work as “Civil Engineer” and “Importer of Pop Culture Goods”.  Yet given the time he invests in his blog (and his facebook posts), he cannot be working full-time…..or perhaps he does not sleep?  I first ran across the blog on another site, where he,  Mochizuki-san, was described as a brave Japanese posting from the front lines of the nuclear disaster. His blog was in danger of being censored and taken off-line ( the site said) and we all should read it and re-post. I imagined someone near or in the evacuation zone in Fukushima, and was surprised to find that he was based in Yokohama, in my own prefecture of Kanagawa. Well, I thought, if he’s a hero, then I must be, too. Hmmph.  At any rate, I began reading his blog fairly regularly, to see what the fuss was all about.  I will add a link to his site so that you may check it out for yourself rather than taking my word for it.

Dipping into the pages of Fukushima Diary with Mochizuki-san was like plunging down

Hoshino Goshi, as seen with dubious-looking “spots”…

the rabbit hole with Alice (that’s an analogy that he himself uses in one of his posts)–things got curiouser and curiouser, with strange stories becoming further befuddled by his poor English translation. Just last week, I was shocked to see a blurry photograph of Hosono Goshi, the minister in charge of decontamination, with what appeared to be two brown spots on one cheek. This was juxtaposed with a photograph from Hiroshima of a spot-

Image of a Hiroshima radiation victim. Is this the future for Hoshino-san??… I think not.

raddled victim of radiation sickness, which the blogger calls “city entering exposure”.  I do not personally care for Hosono Goshi, but I felt indignant on his behalf.  Japanese are very self-conscious about any spots on their skin anyway, and there was no need for leaping to reckless conclusions.  But that is the specialty of this particular fellow it seems, who is now convinced that the Emperor himself, who is currently hospitalized with pneumonia, is also a victim of radiation sickness!  In short, the author of this blog believes that the entire country is unsafe, and  that residents of Tokyo should evacuate.

The blogger in question is convinced that he himself has “caught the plume” of radiation from his visits to Tokyo, and is suffering from radiation poisoning (according to one of his entries, he’s being well-supplied with iodine and various supplements from Chris Busby, an outspoken and controversial UK expert/advisor on low-level radiation ). Recently, he noted that his diarrhea has stopped, but he assures readers that this is because his body has become “used to the sickness”.  He plans to evacuate himself to France, and has set up a Pay Pal account to fund his own move. He writes disparagingly of de-contamination efforts, believes everyone in Tohoku should evacuate, and–as far as I can see–has no further constructive advice or solutions to offer. He also believes that both the government and TEPCO are out to get him, and has posted on facebook of his desire to get “revenge”, urging others to join him in his cause.  Whew. He is an extremely busy man, what with analyzing his own symptoms, taking his supplements, speculating on the situation in Fukushima from afar, evading stalkers and censors, plotting revenge, and responding to all his fan mail.

Again: I should be able to ignore this guy. Instead, I find myself reading his awkwardly-written and inflammatory posts and delving into the comments that inevitably follow. At first, back in the spring and early summer, most of the posts were warm and supportive. These days, however, it’s a mixed bag. I myself have mailed him twice, urging him to hire a proper English translator and check his facts, and others now voice similar opinions. Your English is “mecha-kucha” (all garbled)!!  wrote one woman in a recent post, and several others advised him to calm down, though one fan attributed his agitation to the stress of living in the radioactive zone, and urged others to have compassion for him. Most sympathetic comments inevitably come from those living abroad, who do not know the geography of Japan, and imagine that they have found an inside source of direct information. In fact, they have found a hypochondriac who spends day and night in front of his laptop in Yokohama– he goes nowhere near Tohoku itself and speculates from a distance, imagining himself in grave danger. It bothers me that his blog is listed on others’ blogrolls, and that he’s considered a legitimate source of information.  Yes, he does some good work, but way too much of what he writes is sloppy, inaccurate, and downright mean-spirited.

On the other hand, he and I are technically on the same side. We both attend the same Anti-Nuclear rallies and are committed to seeing Japan become a nuclear-free country. It’s just that (as I see it) he’s chosen the wrong path to get there, and has taken a whole lot of others with him. I do not wish revenge on him, and I do not hate him, by any means. I believe his self-centered nature, lack of clear perspective, and hasty temper have done great damage to an important cause, and that saddens and disappoints me. As his elder (this approach is allowed in Japan. I am technically an “Obasan” and may speak with that authority of life experience), I would like to offer my advice to Mochizuki-san. Here it is, as follows:

1. Get out of your apartment!  You live in Yokohama, not Fukushima, and you need the fresh air!  Yes, there are “hot spots”, so don’t stand in puddles of muddy leaves or hang around abandoned houses for long periods of time.  Get out and walk–or better yet, take up jogging!  Look around you, and don’t be afraid to breathe deeply.  2. Get out of your own head!  You are not the victim here, and there’s no need for martyrdom. The real victims are in Tohoku, not Tokyo or Yokohama, and you are detracting sympathy from them to yourself!  3. Stop typing and do something!  Get over your fears and get yourself

Try volunteering! Shovels ready and waiting to be used…..

to one of the northern prefectures to volunteer!  Get your hands dirty! This will serve the purpose of transforming some of your anger and frustration into constructive action as well. You might start learning to love, rather than focusing on revenge, making your days more pleasant and your sleep more restful and refreshing.  4. Leave the internet for a time, and talk to real people. Go out of your way to meet all kinds of folks, listen to what they have to say, and learn from them. Be willing to change your own pre-conceived notions as a result of what you may learn.  5. Do not beg for money!!!  This is an insult to families  in the north who are in desperate need of cash–some are unable to evacuate from Fukushima because of personal debt and lack of family connections outside their prefecture.  Instead, economize as best you can, and send anything you can spare to an NPO that is doing good work and will use the money efficiently and wisely.  I’ve seen photos of you and all your accessories (everything Mac, like me) and know that you are not in dire straights.  6. If you truly are strapped for cash, cut down on your blog time and get back to work at a regular job, doing ordinary tasks, on an ordinary schedule.  Your mind will be healthier and you will salvage some of your pride as well.

And  that’s all.  Just following any one of these six helpful suggestions will do you a world of good. You will see that it is not your job personally to save the country, and that you are just one of the many who are concerned for the future of Japan.  Coming away from your laptop and becoming involved with real people will show you just how complicated and heartbreaking the situation is for people in Tohoku. You speak of evacuating as if it were a black and white issue, when in fact it is not. Many people with means to leave have chosen not to, and not a few of them have very good reasons. You scoff at efforts to de-contaminate Fukushima, but would you rather leave the land as it is?? Do you think Tohoku should be abandoned entirely??  You urge readers at home and abroad not to eat Japanese produce, but what have you done in support for the farmers whose livelihood has been taken from them? So leave off typing and join forces with some of the doers.

Aileen Mioko Smith

Let me mention some of those doers:  There’s Aileen Mioko Smith, founder of the Green Action organization, who has devoted the past thirty years to opposing Japan’s plutonium program, an uphill battle with very little funding from within the country. Smith and a group of women from Fukushima were in Tokyo for ten days this month, sitting outside the Ministry of Environment, Trade, and Industry. Their purpose? To garner support and for and publicize their petition, which demands that Japan’s existing nuclear power plants be shut down, and that Fukushima City residents, particularly those of the Watari District, be given the “right to evacuate”, which would provide government compensation for those who wish to leave but are financially unable.   The petition was presented to the Prime Minister’s office on November 11th, and the tireless Smith along with members of the Avaaz oganization have vowed to continue gathering signatures and to present the petition again and again until the government takes action.  As of three minutes ago when I checked their site, they had 132,818 signatures, with the meter still clicking away.  You, too, can add your signature, by clicking here.  In fact, I urge you to do so.

And then there are Ed and Junko, an international couple who flew to Fukushima from the US

Fukushima farmer interviewed by “Uncanny Terrain” filmmakers, Ed and Junko.

when others were fleeing.  Concerned for the fate of organic farmers in Tohoku, they spent the post-quake months living among farming families, following their efforts to cleanse the soil and continue growing crops. Knowing that their produce would not be salable, many of the farmers were determined to continue the planting cycle to feed their own families, while experimenting with different ways to reduce the level of radiation in the soil. Junko and Ed spent hours talking with residents, filming them at their work, and doing the groundwork for an independent film they plan to produce, hopefully for international viewing.  The farmers you can read about in Ed and Junko’s blog, Uncanny Terrain, are those who have chosen to stay in Fukushima despite the risks, and despite an uncertain future. They love their land, they love their work, and a peek into their world gives us a new respect for those who chose to stay. Don’t miss the video of Yoshizawa-san, the strong-willed farmer who fought to save his cows.

Blogger EX-SKF uses a splashy Ultraman header….

Who else can I mention? There’s a long list, including EX-SKF, the mysterious bilingual blogger who provides pithy and insightful commentaries on  Japanese news reports, printing the original articles along with his own excellent translations.  Click on his page to see a giant Ultra-Man, urging Japan to “Ganbare!”

And there’s Hirose Takashi, who has been researching and writing about the danger of nuclear power plants since the early 1980′s.  After the 3-11 triple disaster, he wrote and published a book called Fukushima Meltdown, working with a team of translators to produce an English version as well. In a “burst of energy”, the book and the translation were finished, and both versions are now available on amazon.com. Reading a positive review in the Japan Times, I ordered the book for my Kindle, and have been devouring it this past week. It’s clear, comprehensive, and eye-opening, revealing some conspiracy theories that are quite plausible (ever wonder why the 3-11 quake was upgraded from 8.4 to 9? The author has his own theory, and he’s pretty convincing).

Lastly, let me quote from “Quakebook“, a slim little publication (also an e-book) put

Look for the Quakebook on amazon!

together by a team of writers and translators and headed by a blogger known as “Our Man in Abiko”.  The book, which was organized on Twitter, is a collection of personal reflections and experiences on the quake itself and the ensuing chain of disasters. It was published when the horror of the quake and tsunami were still fresh, and the rest of the world was still humbled by the courage and stoicism of the people of Tohoku in the face of death and destruction. Because of this, Quakebook is largely devoid of the cynicism that has infected the entire country in recent months. The last essay in the book, called “Test”, asks the reader to judge whether or not he is capable of being a “good person” in the face of disaster. Here are some of the questions the writer asks us to consider:

“…what exactly makes a good person?

When they speculated that there might be a shortage who so shamelessly spent money for unnecessary hoarding?

Who sold currency in the ensuing inflation after the quake?

Did you have fun consciously writing posts fanning the flames of doubt from the comfort of your warm room?

Did you donate a pittance with a solemn face while leaving the rest for nature to run its course?

Do you only worry about the radiation while putting the land itself at a distance?

Are the victims just others, and not a part of you, too?

In the end, is this all the responsibility of the government?

……..Isn’t this test for us to see whether or not we can start to become Good People? To be a Good Person, it requires neither showy performances nor great self-assertiveness, nor fancy rhetorical arguments nor any great technique; but instead…a soft but composed and sincere definition. “

Hmmmm…..I know that’s an awkward translation from the Japanese, but does the meaning come through?  Basically, the writer urges us to calm down, quit showing off, and do what needs to done for the sake of others and ourselves as well. If  Mochizuki-san can stand to learn humility and empathy,  I probably need more of both qualities myself. And so, in the end, my advice to the blogger who brings me no end of frustration must not go unheeded in my own life. * Sigh. *  And now I will have the added uncertainty of wondering if this post will ever be read by Mochizuki himself, and whether or not he will deem me worthy of “revenge”.  I could get myself pretty worked up imagining a Mochizuki-out-to-get- Ruthie conspiracy if I chose, but I believe I’ll pass.  I have things to do, places to go, friends to meet, and a life to get on with.  Now I’ll stop typing and get busy. Good night, and thank you all for reading.

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What the children have to say…..

Drawing by Naoya, age 8, Koriyama City. “I’m worried about nuclear power plants” (Geoff Read)

Thirteen-year-old Kenji shook his mane of tousled black hair and clutched his head with

disgust. “I don’t care whether Japan uses nuclear energy or not! Everyone has a different opinion anyway, and it gives me a headache to think about it.  It’s too difficult!  We kids should leave that stuff to the adults and be done with it!”  Kenji was having a rather extreme reaction to my line of questioning, and was probably getting hungry and tired as well, since it was nearly eight in the evening. I called it a night, and let he and his friends go home to eat dinner and watch their favorite TV quiz shows.

I am actually a mild-mannered English teacher. As a rule, I do not provoke children to tear their hair out over moral dilemmas, but for one week, I had decided to conduct interviews with my older students (sixth, seventh, and eighth graders, with three older high school students thrown in for good measure) to see what they thought of the situation in Fukushima and how they felt about nuclear energy.  I had mailed their mothers in advance to ask permission, and most of them were a bit nervous about sitting down with a microphone in the middle of the floor, doing something outside of the usual routine. The boys acted goofy and the girls refused to say anything at all for the first few minutes, but I resolutely forged ahead, and they eventually became involved with the questions in spite of themselves. Some of their responses surprised me, some were disappointing, and a few were worthy of applause. I questioned them all in small groups to minimize stage-fright and peer pressure ( as in, “Twenty kids have already agreed, so I ‘d better agree as well…” ), and  here’s what I learned from the twenty-three children who participated: ten boys and thirteen girls. The interviews were done in Japanese, and I’ll try to put their words into natural-sounding Jr. High School English.

Drawing by Kurumi, age 7, Koriyama City, Fukushima. “Flying with Dogs” (Geoff Read)

First, I asked about their schools (they represent four different public schools in the neighborhood, plus two private schools), and whether or not any evacuees from Tohoku were in their classes. Not surprisingly, children from  two of the three public schools reported “yes”, and that the new students were from Fukushima.  ”Well, how are they doing?” I asked. “Are they making friends, and are Hadano kids treating them alright?”  Hiromasa-kun from School A. never blinked, replying that the girl he knew was having no troubles at all, and had plenty of friends. Sayaka-san, from the same school, confirmed this, adding, “Man, she’s like the most popular kid in the school!”  Keiko-san from School B. also knew of a Fukushima student in her school; no problems fitting in, she said, and knew of no bullying incidents.  Tadashi-kun from School C. was disappointed that there were no Fukushima students in his school. “I want at least one to come!” he said. “If they did, I wouldn’t bully them. Just the opposite: I’d want to play with them and make them happy if they were sad after losing a relative or something.”  Tadashi is an unusually outspoken and sweet-natured boy, whose words flow easily, straight from the heart. Pretty rare (and rather uncool) in a sixth-grade boy, but he’s sporty as well, and his friends don’t give him a hard time. Whatever the case, if Fukushima kids were being bullied in the Hadano schools, my students knew nothing about it. “I heard some rumors…” said Rina-san hesitantly, but that was as far as I got.

Next, I asked them to imagine that they lived in Fukushima, close to the evacuation zone. They were “allowed” to live there legally, but the area still had a high level of radiation, and they wouldn’t be able to play outside for long periods of time. Would they want to stay there, or would they rather evacuate to a new, safer place where they would have more freedom? I purposely left their parents out of the equation, saying that “Your mom and dad have left it up to go. They’ve agreed to do what you want.”  I had some ideas about what my students might say, but still it was surprising to hear how quickly they formed their answers and defended their positions.

As I expected, many students (eleven in all) answered without hesitation that they would

Drawing by Yamato, age 13, Fukushima City. “Let’s be bright, like Sunflowers” (Geoff Read)”

not leave Fukushima.  Their reasons?  They would not want to leave their hometowns, friends or club activities “I couldn’t leave my band,” said Masaya-kun, one of the three high school students. “We’ve been together for a year now.”  Well, a year is a long time in the life of a sixteen-year-old.  Some said that even if they got sick from radiation exposure later on in life, at least they could be together with their friends.  Kanako-san, from School A. said she didn’t believe there was any real danger from radiation exposure anyway. Ryou-kun, from School B. said he had “never given a thought to radiation exposure” before.  ”I’d want to stay and help clean up and rebuild my hometown,” said Hiroki-kun, a serious, soft-spoken boy from School A.  They were all in agreement that their relationships and ties to their hometown were more important than fleeing from an invisible enemy (that they cannot yet conceive of, and are not convinced really exists).

The remaining students were divided. Three of them were unable to decide without knowing what their friends would do. “Well, if my friends all decided to evacuate, there’d be no reason for me to stay….” said Fumiko-san, looking uncomfortable. The  girl next to her immediately agreed, and Haruto-kun declared he would wait till the end of sixth grade before evacuating.  ”That way I could graduate with all my friends, and then I’d decide what to do.” he declared.

Nine out of the twenty-three declared they would evacuate. Knowing all the students fairly well, I can vouch for the fact that these were the outgoing and strong-willed kids, who would have very little trouble assimilating anywhere. Most of them were the ones who sang loudly and without inhibition in first and second grade (you think all first graders like to sing?!  Hah!  Not in Japan! ) , and who were, as they got older, not afraid to admit they liked studying. Some were even brave enough to come to English practice sessions rather than soccer practices. Although they make different choices than their peers, they can also “read the air” (get along smoothly with those same peers, without deliberately or accidentally antagonizing them) and are well-liked and admired in their schools and in my classes.  Two students in particular spoke well, using both confidence and logic. The first was Kenji-kun , who stated simply, “Well, if I couldn’t play outside, why would I want to stay there??  Besides, there could be another tsunami or earthquake, making an even bigger mess!  I’d get the heck out!”  The second, and most interesting comment on evacuation came from Keiko-san, a tall, intelligent, no-nonsense girl. “Well, in reality,” she said,  ”we’re all going to leave our friends and strike out on our own as adults, aren’t we? So it’s just like starting the process a bit earlier.  I’d rather get to a safe place as soon as possible rather than waiting around!”  Though I was doing my best to preserve a neutral stance, I couldn’t stop myself from muttering, “Go, Keiko!” and several girls looked at her, wishing they could be that cool–or brave– themselves.  No-one changed their stance because of her comment, though, and she remained the only one in her own class in favor of evacuating.

Drawing by 8 year old girl from Fukushima. “Ganbare, Nippon!” (Geoff Read)

Another question I asked was about pressure that some students are reportedly experiencing in Fukushima public schools. “If your mother insisted you bring a box lunch full of vegetables and rice from safe regions of the country, but your teacher insisted you eat the school lunch (containing Fukushima vegetables and milk), what would you do??” This question proved to be even more troubling to many of the students, especially the boys.  Only two children feared their teachers more than their mothers, and declared that they would eat the school lunch without complaint.  Seven others thoughtfully proposed various compromises, such as eating both ( boys, who were confident in the voracity of their own appetites), eating half of each, or, in the case of one very troubled-looking boy, eating neither. “I wouldn’t have any appetite in that situation anyway,” he confessed sadly. The remainder of the students proudly proclaimed (boasted?) that they would complain to the teacher and eat their mother’s box lunch.  ”I’d tell that teacher to quit messing with us!” said  Tadashi-kun from School C. with mounting excitement, while Kenji-kun, who said that all this gave him a headache, declared, “No way!  Stories like that must be lies!  I’d never listen to a teacher like that!” Anna-san, an older private school girl, said quietly, “Obviously, I’d follow the orders of the adult who really cared about me. I know my mother loves me and that’s why she  would make me a special box lunch; the teacher is just following a school rule without caring about us personally, so I’ve no obligation to him at all. I’d eat my mother’s lunch.”  Again, I had to restrain myself from applauding here, and some of the other girls looked impressed, too. The school lunch/box lunch, teacher/mother dilemma was one that every student could relate to, and it challenged them to take a stand against one of two authority figures in their lives (fathers are not authority figures here , but that’s a different topic altogether).  Other questions provoked blank stares and only a few comments, but this one struck a gold mine of emotions.

Before wrapping up each fifteen minute session ( short, but we did these talks in the evening, after their regular English lessons, and I was acutely aware of rumbling stomachs and stifled yawns), I asked each of them what they felt about nuclear power. “Do you want to see all of Japan’s nuclear power plants shut down?  Or do you think the country should continue to rely on them?  Or should we use alternative energy sources??”  By now, readers of this blog know where I stand, but my students did not, and I was determined not to influence their answers with my own opinions. But, as my friend Joseph notes, kids are influenced by their parents’ views, and the answers I got here would doubtless be a refection of what they heard in discussions at home.  Still, this was the big question, and needed to be asked. I had already asked how many of them were watching the news on a daily basis; around half they kids were. And surprisingly, all the students agreed that the situation in Fukushima was not being discussed at school. In other words, a good number of students were not watching the news, hearing nothing about Fukushima at school, and probably not discussing the situation at home. What kind of opinion would these kids have?  Holding my breath, I waited to see who would say what. And the results were…..

Out of twenty-three, nine were brave enough to speak out in favor of shutting down all of

Drawing by Erika, age 17, Koriyama City, Fukushima. (Geoff Read)

Japan’s nuclear plants, the sooner the better. “People say than nuclear power is cheaper,” said Tadashi-kun, “but life is more important than money. Too many people have been hurt by the Fukushima Daiichi accident!”  The practical and cool-headed Keiko said, “I think of what happened to the people in Fukushima, and I can’t imagine going back to a nuclear society. I can’t help wondering what it must be like for people in Tohoku…..”  And certainly, every student expressed sympathy for the citizens of Fukushima.  But most students came down strongly on the side of compromise. They offered all manner of suggestions, such as “half nuclear/ half solar”, or “doing away with nuclear power veeeery slowly”, or  ”building the kind of nuclear power plant that absolutely won’t break.” Or “building more nuclear power plants in Japan, but not near me!”  More than a few seemed worried about Japan’s debt problem (these were the kids who’d been listening to their parents and watching the news) and were convinced that the country would fall into deep financial straits by attempting to develop forms of alternative energy. Others said that alternative energy sources could never produce enough power to satisfy their electricity-guzzling country.  I wanted to remark that electricity-guzzling was a factor that did not have to be permanent; average citizens and large corporations alike have reduced their energy consumption drastically since the quake, and it has not been all that painful.   In any case, on the subject of nuclear energy, the students’ opinions were scattered all across the board. This was the point when Kenji-kun clutched his head in despair, howling, “This is too difficult!  We should just let the adults deal with everything!”

And that’s what my students had to say, in a nutshell.  As for my own thoughts……well, it ‘s clear that many Japanese children literally fear change, and were raised by mothers who probably fear change themselves. Although my students assured me that the Fukushima students who have evacuated to their schools are fitting in just fine ( and are, in fact, wildly popular in some cases), if they themselves had the choice to evacuate they would decline, out of fear.  Not fear of bullying, but fear of the possibility of bullying. Here’s a quote from a wonderful blog entitled  Strong Children Japan.  The author, Geoff Read, is a Japan-based artist from the UK who works with children who have suffered emotional distress. He talks with them, and they create portrait pictures together based on the child’s dreams, wishes, or worries. The drawings I have included in this entry are all from his Strong Children project, and there are many more worth seeing.  The quote is from the mother of a girl named Hanako, whose picture appears in his blog . Hanako’s mother writes,”Our family has decided to keep living in Fukushima….When people say `All  mothers in Fukushima, be brave and evacuate from there!’  I feel pain. I  just cannot make that decision because I read about Fukushima residents who evacuated to somewhere else and the children got bullied by local children. Also, I can’t help being concerned about work, money, and the stress that might be caused by starting life in a completely new place as a stranger.”

Hmmmm…..I feel this mother’s pain, but I also hear the word “might”.  She’s more afraid of what might happen in a new place than of the danger of an accumulation of internal radiation. I am tempted to feel impatient with this line of thinking. I remind myself, however, to stay calm and sympathetic, remembering that government officials, school principals, and other figures of authority have led  women like Hanako’s mother to believe that they are safe. Or at least “not in immediate danger”.  Surely if this woman truly felt her situation dangerous, she would not hesitate to leave, for the sake of Hanako.  I want to believe this.

Other families do not have the luxury of choosing whether or not to evacuate, as they are in dire financial straits. It is certain that if the central government provided financial assistance, many more would choose to leave, and Fukushima women activists are working round the clock pressuring the central government to provide funds for families who wish to evacuate.  Children of  mothers who are able but unwilling to evacuate are placing their trust in adults to make decisions for them and tell them what to do next, as Hanako’s mother is probably trusting in government officials.  Neither children nor adults have been used to questioning authority (at least openly), and truly the betrayal of the people of Fukushima by the central government has been a difficult reality to come to grips with. It’s something that no-one wants to believe, and something that sounds like a bad soap opera rather than reality.  ”Fukushima produce shipped abroad as aid“??  We hear the news and think, surely not.  ”Radioactive rubble burned in Tokyo bay“??  Again, we think, yeah, right.  ”Japan selling nuclear power plants abroad“?  That was the hardest for me to swallow. And the list goes on.  It seems that those in charge are not doing such a good job of it–okay, they’re doing a terrible job–and that everyone, children included, needs to be thinking for themselves and being proactive these days.

I was pleased, in the end, with the response from my own students. Knowing the reluctance of Japanese to stand out in any way (this is called “medatsu”), I did not expect so many kids to take such a firm stand and to express themselves so clearly. While some attempted to avoid conflict by finding a compromise and others wanted to avoid making any decision at all, more than a third of the students were not afraid to consider the unknown: a move from their beloved hometown. They also declared themselves willing  to face punishment from an authority figure (the teacher promoting school lunches) , and were able to come down firmly on the side of “datsu-genpatsu”, or the shutting down of nuclear plants. These kids are already leaders in their own sphere, and will go on to think more, say more, do more, and make a difference in their world.  As Geoff Read, the man behind the Strong Children Japan project writes, “…no record of important historical events, or thinking about policy choices or ethics for that matter, can be complete without including children.” And he’s right. There’s been a whole lot said about children in Tohoku (they are pitiful….no, they are strong! ….no, they are victims…ad infinitum…)  but has anyone really been listening to what they have to say in the matter?  The adults sure aren’t making sense these days, and I’m more than ready to give the children a chance. Want to see what children are capable of? Good!  Take a look at this video if you’re a music lover. Take a look even if you’re not, and you might become one. It’s a recording of a choral group from a Fukushima high school who have taken either the silver or the gold medal in national choral competitions for several years running. Enjoy what you hear, and think about the children of Japan. Their voices deserve to be heard.

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Let the House Burn, but Save the Children

After spending the week of Halloween frolicking about dressed as either a jolly pumpkin,

My Alter-Ego, Jolly Pumpkin.

fashionable witch, funny witch, or good witch (depending on my mood and the age of the children I would teach that day), I was tired of fun and games, and ready to return to Tokyo to touch base with anti-nuclear protesters. Sunday would be the day, and I looked forward to it all week long.  Life in my corner of Kanagawa (quite far from the hub of Yokohama) goes on as if nothing has happened in Tohoku, and as if the country is not in a state of crisis. A trip to Tokyo, where people from prefectures far and near congregate for weekend demonstrations these days, always reminds me that the crisis is real, and all the more urgent because so many are not speaking, not acting, and not thinking deeply about the future.

Although it’s their own future, and that of their children and grandchildren,  a good majority of folks are choosing to step back and remain silent these days. Read more about this silent majority in an excellent article by Kevin Dodd, from his blog, Senrinomichi. As far as I’m concerned, it’s an uncomfortable and eerie silence, often descending when I most want to tell friends about where I’ve been (Tokyo), what I’m doing (reading and educating myself), and what I’m thinking ( The nuclear power industry is insidious and rotten to the core. The central government is equally corrupt. The whole system could potentially continue for years to come if people don’t find the courage to seize the moment…). I have found that certain friends will listen politely, wait for me to finish, then change the subject. Other friends listen with interest and sympathy, venture their own opinions, but would not–in a million years–accompany me to a demonstration in Tokyo.  Mind you, the majority of my friends agree with my anti-nuclear sentiments (in varying degrees), but they are not personally engaged. They have not been changed in a essential way by the March 11th quake and the ensuing nuclear crisis, and their complacency serves to increase my own sense of urgency and frustration.

Though I have not yet convinced any Hadano friends to attend a Tokyo demo together, my

The girl who will go to a good demo any day!

daughter will accompany me at the drop of a hat. She’s eighteen, and I marvel at the fact that when I say, “Hey, do you want to go to Tokyo to meet some women from Fukushima?”, she says, “Mmm. Iku.” (“Sure, I’ll go.”)  Just like that!  What’s so difficult for some people is so easy for others, I guess. So anyway, we boarded the Romance Car (an express train that’s not so romantic, especially the older model that smells like mildewed seat covers) to Shinjuku on Sunday, and set off to meet a group of women from Fukushima who are in Tokyo for the week to tell their stories and make an appeal to evacuate children from areas close to the Fukushima Daiichi plant. As with the Hunger Strikers, I had read about these women in various blog sites and seen videos of them speaking. I was curious to meet them in person, and determined to show my support by hanging out with them at Kasumigaseki for the day.

We arrived at the station, ascended the staircase from the subway level, and there we were, right in the middle of things. There were camp chairs set up along the sidewalk in front of the METI building (Ministry of Energy, Trade, and Industry), so we sat ourselves down next to a group of women wearing Fukushima tags and struck up a conversation. A tall, serious-looking woman with a gentle voice told of her decision to evacuate from Fukushima City ten hours after the quake, and I found myself involved in her tale almost immediately. Here it is:

Uno Saeko-san. I call her one brave woman.

Saeko-san is the wife of a professor at Fukushima University, and the mother of a four-year-old daughter. Living only 60 kilometers away from the Fukushima Daiichi Power Plant, she had begun researching into the history of nuclear power in Japan a full two years before the quake had occurred, and was already convinced that that Daiichi plant was a potential disaster waiting to happen. On the day of the quake, her husband was away on business in Saitama Prefecture, and she was alone in the house with her daughter. The quake was terrifying, and she and her daughter fled the house, seeking shelter outside and hugging each other tightly. “There’s a giant under the ground roaring and shaking, but don’t worry-you’re safe, ” she told the little girl. When the shaking stopped, they returned to the house to inspect for damage. I did not ask if Saeko’s house had lost power, but most houses in Fukushima did, so it’s possible that she did not know of the ensuing tsunami. Many older people in Fukushima and Miyagi who do not use the internet were ignorant of the situation for days. My guess is that Saeko-san was on the net that afternoon, and probably knew of the giant wave that had washed over the reactors repeatedly.  She knew enough, in any case , to foresee dire trouble at the Daiichi power plant, and to know that she needed to leave as soon as possible. After several hours, she was finally able to reach her husband by cell phone, and he agreed that she and her daughter should evacuate that night.

They left the house by car around midnight, with only an overnight bag, headed for the mountains in the western part of Fukushima. “It was snowing, and the driving was terrible,” she said, “but I just wanted to make it over the mountains where I felt safer.”  Saeko-san and her daughter made it over the mountains, and arrived in the city of Aizu in the early morning, where they took shelter in a church. After a rest in Aizu, Saeko determined to go south, eventually arriving in Kyushuu (Yamaguchi Prefecture) via Niigata, Oosaka, and Hiroshima. The country’s transport system was overwhelmed in those first few weeks following the disaster, and just getting out of Tohoku itself was a minor miracle due to a myriad of factors: roads were damaged or blocked by rubble, trains were not running, cars that had not been washed away by the tsunami had no gas (even in Kanagawa, few people were driving after the quake, and gas stations all across town were sold out), and the weather was horrendous. Saeko-san was lucky to be living far enough inland to have escaped tsunami damage and to have gotten out of the city safely and in a timely fashion. I can only imagine the tension and fear she must have experienced driving in the middle of the night with a small child, in blinding snow , on damaged roads, hoping to outrun the hydrogen explosions that she feared were coming. They did come, and she did outrun them. I call her one brave lady: educated, prepared, and unafraid to act swiftly and decisively.

She and her daughter now live in Kyushuu, though they have not officially moved, and their house in Fukushima City remains

Does Fukushima University have a future?

untouched since the day of the quake. Her husband, who cannot leave his job at Fukushima University, is currently renting an apartment in nearby Yamagata Prefecture, and commuting to Fukushima.  He had flown to Kyushuu for the weekend, she said, to watch their daughter so she could be here in Tokyo to join the demonstration. “Have many students left the University since the disaster?”  I asked. “No, she said, “in fact, very few have left. They’ve paid their tuition for the year, and feel that leaving is would be a waste of money.” “Well, what about next year?” I continued. “Will the school be able to get new students and continue operations?”  The university was considering offering free tuition for incoming students, she said, in a desperate attempt to save the school. It didn’t sound hopeful to me, though, and I can’t imagine any student considering Fukushima U, even with the lure of free tuition. Sounded like the next year would be a rough one for Saeko and her family, but she was not the self-pitying type.

I asked Saeko-san how or if she talked about the past year’s events with her daughter (nursery school age) , and she responded swiftly, “Of course I talk about what happened with my daughter. I don’t believe in deceiving children, or covering up bad things. She knows that radiation has spread around her old home, and that it came from the nuclear power plant. She knows that this makes her mother cry, and she thinks of the nuclear power industry as the bad guys, like in a book or cartoon”. Her daughter  reverted back to babyhood for a short while after the quake and the traumatic move, refusing to walk by herself, be separated from her mother, or attend Nursery School, but now she’s adjusted to her new life and shows very few signs of stress or anxiety. Not so, unfortunately, for the majority of children left in Fukushima City. According to Saeko-san, only a fraction of the large population (Wikipedia estimates 290,064) have actually moved to other prefectures; the remainder of the city is comprised of families living in limbo. Some families have stayed due to a lack of financial options, and are lobbying for government assistance so they can pack up and leave. Others have chosen to break up the family unit, as Saeko’s family did, with mother and children fleeing the prefecture and father staying behind to save the family business or to rebuild the company. For those families who have stayed, daily life is full of stress and uncertainty. Many mothers, mistrustful of food safety standards ( food is simply labelled “safe”, and the exact level of radiation does not appear on produce ) would prefer their children to eat box lunches from home, made from foods carefully chosen ( preferably from faraway prefectures ) and carefully prepared.

lunchtime helpers in a Japanese elementary school.

Teachers in Fukushima, however, insist that their students eat the school lunches (made with locally-grown produce) to show their loyalty to the prefecture. Children are torn between their mothers’ wishes and their fear of humiliation and punishment. This sounds hard to believe, but it’s been reported in various blog sites (watch a video clip to find out what happens to students who refuse to drink local milk), and was unanimously confirmed by the Fukushima mothers that I met on Sunday. Worse yet, one mother reported that students who refuse to eat school lunches are now bullied by their peers as well as berated by their teachers.

Fukushima mothers speak their minds

Still more common is the tension and unbalance caused by broken family ties. Fukushima families that managed to survive the quake and tsunami intact have been torn apart by circumstance and necessity; children have spent nearly eight months already living apart from their fathers. Women that I talked to said that even families who have stayed together in Fukushima are often divided in their thinking, with mothers hoping to evacuate and fathers wanting to stick it out. I watched an NHK special last week on a small company in Fukushima run by a group of men who have been friends since childhood; they have evacuated their wives and children and are staying on in Fukushima to keep their company going. This seems to be a common pattern, with men choosing financial stability and loyalty to the workplace rather than taking the risk of starting fresh with their families. Either choice is a hard one, and residents of Fukushima City are on their own, with no financial assistance from the central government (they are outside of the evacuation zone), and the situation complicated by community ties to the Fukushima Daiichi plant. As Saeko told me, “I wish I had more friends working with me to halt the spread of the nuclear industry, but so many in Fukushima work for the company itself, or have connections.”  There is tension between husbands and wives, tension among friends, tension between teachers and students, and tension among students. It’s obvious by now that the central government is unable and unwilling to take responsibility for the chaos that has ensued since the meltdowns at Fukushima Daiichi. They are busy making plans to build and sell new, improved nuclear reactors in third-world, energy-starved countries.  One mother that I spoke with recalled her own incredulity when she realized that families in her city had literally been abandoned by the government.  ”Is there anyone at all that you trust in the Prime Minister’s cabinet?” I asked. Saeko and her friends looked at each other and agreed, “No, no-one. “

And so, they have brought their demands to Tokyo. Their demands are simple: provide government assistance for the evacuation of children from Fukushima, and keep off-line nuclear power plants off-line. The women I met on Sunday were well-organized, well-spoken, gracious and hospitable (serving snacks intermittently to folks standing around in the cold), and constantly busy. Every woman had something in her hands, from finger-knitting (with the intent to yarn bomb the government building on the last day) to patchwork, and visitors were invited to create something along with them, on the spot.

Finger-knitting for Fukushima…I hope the yarn-bombing happens!

There were no hysterics (“They’d like to dismiss us as hysterical, wouldn’t they?” said one woman, shrugging), no tears and no angry bitter words, but plenty of strong words and plain speaking. Now that I think about it, one of the reasons I came away energized after meeting these women was the breath of fresh air that comes with directness and down-to-earth speech. None of this apologizing when you’re not really sorry, no pretending you’re fine when you’re seething with anger, and very few of the standard conversational niceties that are required in my everyday dealings with Japanese women. The Fukushima mothers were focused, intent, and devoted to their message; they were impressive.  Nobel Prize-winning author Oe Kenzaburo also spoke of the strength of Japanese women in his speech at the mass rally in Tokyo on September 19th. Oe made a point of directing his speech not toward men, who have no ears to listen, but toward women, citing a recent incident in Italy as an example.  ”After Italian voters rejected the resumption of operations at their nuclear power plants,” recounted Oe, ” a senior official in Japan’s Liberal Democratic Party (LDP) attributed the referendum result to “mass hysteria,” suggesting that the power of women was behind the results. An Italian woman in the film industry responded to the insult, saying: “Japanese men are likely moved to action by a ‘mass hysteria’ that puts productivity and economic power before all else. I’m only talking about men here, because no matter where you are, women never put anything before life. If Japan were to not only lose its status as an economic superpower but fall into long-term poverty, we all know from Japanese films that women will overcome such hardships!”  Thanks to the unknown Italian woman, and thanks to Oe-san for the re-telling of a fine story.

In closing, I will let two of the Fukushima women speak in their own words. Muto Ruiko, who also spoke at the September 19th rally says, “Everyone has the courage to change. Take back your confidence. Join with others. If the nuclear proponents are a vertical wall, we can go around it horizontally. That’s our strength.”  And Sato Sachiko, one of the most compelling personalities I met at the Tokyo demonstration, says bluntly, ” We should save children first and put out fire next. We can’t save them if we put water on fire while leaving them inside. We don’t care about the house. All we want is our children.”  These women know their priorities. They speak their minds with both courage and eloquence, and their stories need to be heard.  Whether their words can help effect change on a national level remains to be seen, but in any case, I know whose side I’m on. Watch the video.  

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