An Act of Murder?

Yes, this is a pretty extreme title for one of my blog entries, but I’m only quoting the words of the Mayor of  Namie Town, Fukushima.  My previous post,” The Spirit of Madei“, told the story of another Mayor , Norio Kanno of  Iitate Village, who advocated “slow life”,  controlling one’s anger, and living in harmony with man and nature. While writing that particular post, I came to feel a great respect for the thoughtfulness and restraint of Mayor Kanno. I still feel that respect.

However, I am forced to admit that following the Mayor’s philosophy of retaining one’s dignity by not making a fuss will not effect change.  Each day brings new and more outrageous news reports, and I’ve already been knocked off  my peaceful plateau by stories about what happens when citizens don’t make a fuss. Mind you, I still think that retaining one’s serenity in the face of chaos is an admirable thing, and though I feel completely comfortable marching in demos, I would not be comfortable hollering into a microphone or leading the ranks. This past month’s news, however, makes me think I may need to move outside my comfort zone. For instance…

News reports during the third week in January featured reports from a town in Fukushima called Nihonmatsu, where

Apartment complex in Nihonmatsu…looked fancy, but it hid a deadly secret. (photo by Gen Hashimoto, Asahi Shinbun)

evacuees from Namie Town had been re-located. Children living in a newly-built apartment complex had been wearing dosimeters indoors and out, and monitoring the results; when a Jr. High school student’s dosimeter showed consistently high readings (radiation levels higher inside than out, and higher on the ground floor than on the upper levels), investigations showed that the culprit was….concrete. Ironically, the stones used to make the cement for their brand-new apartment complex had come from a quarry in their former irradiated  hometown, Namie.

Neither the NHK televised report nor the reports in the daily papers used adjectives like “ironic” or  “unbelievable”–just the facts. Well, reports are one thing, but this is also a human interest story that begs to be written.  Kevin Dodd, in his “Senrinomichi” blog, uses the analogy of a ghost train to describe Fukushima. While passengers doze in their seats, unaware of exactly where they are and what is passing by, the train progresses without ever reaching its destination .  That is, unless (and this is the crucial part) passengers force themselves to stay awake and write postcards containing the stories, to be recorded in history and remembered.  Thanks, Kevin, for that analogy, and here’s my postcard.

More on the contaminated concrete: a January 15th report from Kyodo News, stated that some 5,280 tons of crushed stones were shipped to some 19 different contractors from a quarry in Namie between the day of the quake and April 22nd.  By the following week, investigations showed that at least sixty houses and condominium buildings in Fukushima Prefecture had been tainted by concrete made from Namie stones.  According to another article from Kyodo News on January 24th, the same concrete was also used to re-build the infrastructure of damaged cities. In other words, Fukushima cars travel along roads built from radioactive asphalt, and walkers may stroll along the river, following the radioactive embankments.  By January 26th, the amount of stones shipped from the quarry was listed at 5,725 tons, and more temporary housing units in Fukushima were deemed “likely” to have have been built from the radioactive concrete.

According to the head of the quarry in Namie, “I never imagined the crushed stones were radioactive when I shipped them. I feel very sorry for those who have been involved.” Fukushima Prefecture officials will help in finding new accommodations for those living on the first floor of the Nihonmatsu condominium, where radiation levels are highest. The Central Government “closely studied” the distribution routes of the Namie stones and the radiation levels of various housing units, but has declared that the annual radiation exposure in the units will not be high enough to warrant evacuation.

And that’s it: there’s been no news since then. Plenty of other head-shaking and even jaw-dropping incidents to focus on ( particularly the revelation that the central government’s   Nuclear and Industrial Safety Agency failed to keep records for 23 meetings held directly after the nuclear catastrophe. No records—nothing at all. They are now in the process of “reconstructing” the events of each meeting, for what it’s worth, ten months down the road. Although failing to keep public records is in violation of Japanese law, there is in fact no punishment involved for perpetrators, so the central government is legally off the hook, although its reputation at home and abroad is even further tarnished. Never mind tarnished, it’s shot. There’s really nothing left to uphold. )

Namie Town

Since the news has already moved on, let me go back and piece together the story of Namie Town for those of you who are not yet in the know.  As you can see from the photo, Namie  stretches from East to Northwest, and borders the ocean. The eastern area  in particular suffered heavy damage from both the quake and the tsunami.  After the explosions at the Fukushima Daiichi plant, the town was under an information blackout which would prove to bring about tragic and still-reverberating consequences. While the citizens of Namie Town (dealing with the fresh emotional horror of the quake, the aftershocks, the tsunami damage, and the ensuing fear of the uncertain situation at the Fukushima Daiichi plant) were being assured that radiation levels outside of a 10 kilometer radius were safe, the central government was reviewing data based on radiation measurements that showed a blanket of radioactive fallout stretching as far south as Tokyo.

On March 14th, the central government’s computer-produced map predicting the pattern of  the radiation fallout (the SPEEDI map, now a well-known and infamous entity) was shared with the US Military. This , oficials explained afterwards, was an effort to ensure US support, advice, and cooperation in the days to come. The US used this information in deciding on their own “safety zone” of a full 80 kilometers from the Daiichi plant.  The SPEEDI map was not shared directly with residents, or even with the local government officials in Tohoku, who desperately needed the information to make life-changing decisions on behalf of their citizens. In fact, in those first days, there were no communications at all from the central government.  Naoto Kan was busy directing an attempt to dump  water from a tiny helicopter onto the smoking inferno that was the power plant. We all watched, as time and again the wind blew the meagre amount of water off-course and another helicopter bravely hovered over exactly the right spot in a futile effort to do something–anything–to avert further disaster. And so, lacking guidance and vital information, the Mayor of Namie decided to evacuate his people North, to the area of the town that lay furthest away from the still-smoking reactors.

The people of Namie,  alerted by a community radio station broadcast, evacuated to the district of Tsushima, a mountainous region lying a full 30 kilometers Northwest of TEPCO, but still within the confines of Namie.  Approximately 10,000 residents fled to Tsushima, where they were welcomed with generosity,  receiving shelter and comfort as families, friends, and strangers set up housekeeping together in what they believed was a safe refuge. Mizue Kanno, who owns a spacious house in Tsushima, took in 25 friends and strangers on March 12th. She later told her story to Japan’s Asahi Shinbun, where it was published in serial form, under the title, “The Prometheus Trap“.

The serial story reveals that the radiation levels in Tsushima were, in fact, dangerously high on that day, but that police were forbidden to tell locals. Kanno-san and her

Kanno-san’s  house in Tsushima (photo by Jun Kaneko)

housemates learned of this from two mysterious men in white protective suits who drove to the house, stopping only long enough to warn them to evacuate immediately, then speeding off into the night.  Sounds like something out of a novel??  Well, everything was surreal at that point in time, and Kanno-san and her new friends decided to trust the warning.  Leaving in staggered groups, they all fled the Tsushima district; “Prometheus Trap” follows up, giving details on how they fared and where they eventually landed.  Many others who had not been warned and chose to stay on in the district were exposed to varying levels of radiation.  Although I share in the widespread dismay over the lack of detailed media coverage on many aspects of the 3-11 triple disaster, I give credit to Asahi for publishing the story, eight installments in all, in both its English and Japanese editions.

Let me continue the story where Prometheus Trap leaves off.

Take a leap of the imagina, and put yourself in the shoes of Namie mayor, Tamotsu Baba. He had successfully taken the initiative and evacuated citizens from the eastern part of the town when the western half of Namie (the Tsushima district) was then declared to be dangerous, and designated as part of a new, expanded evacuation zone. Those who had taken refuge in Tsushima from the eastern Namie were forced to move again, this time scattering far and wide. The Mayor himself  became homeless, and felt the heavy burden of having chosen the wrong refuge for the citizens who had depended on him.

Some of the Namie citizens who fled the Tsushima district in March  found shelter in the northerly village of Iitate, whose Mayor Norio Kanno welcomed them to his “slow life” community.  Happy ending at last?  No, not yet.  Those of you who read my previous post know what happened in Iitate:  an unexpected northwesterly wind had blown a blanket of radioactive snow straight across the village, effectively causing radiation levels matching–and in some places exceeding–levels within the evacuation zone. This was discovered some weeks after the fact, and Iitate was also evacuated, marking the third move for a number of Namie families.

Niihonmatsu in relation to the evacuation zone

Other Namie citizens fled from Tsushima to Nihonmatsu, a city lying well to the west of the evacuation zone…. and now it has been discovered that evacuee housing in Nihonmatsu has been built with radioactive cement from the Namie rock quarry, which continued to function after the majority of its citizens had evacuated. When I saw the article in the Japan Times, my heart sank.  It seems that families from Namie have been betrayed many times over.

The radioactive cement incident is terribly disturbing, and the Ministry of Trade and Industry can certainly be blamed for establishing no radiation restrictions on crushed stones (if other products within radioactive zones have restrictions, why would stones not?) , and for allowing shipments to continue to leave the quarry well after residents, fearing for their health, had deserted the area. The head of the quarry’s protest (“I never imagined the stones might be radioactive!”) also rings hollow, and the central government’s easy dismissal of the incident is troubling as well.  I remembered that the Mayor of Iitate  had also fought to ensure that industries in his village could continue to function after the evacuation orders were in place, and wondered if  similar damage was unknowingly done as a result of his desire to preserve his beloved Iitate’s economy. Complicated, isn’t it?  I don’t pretend to have an answer, but I certainly recognize and feel the injustice suffered by the residents of both Iitate Village and Namie Town.

Now, fast-forward to January 2012, ten months after the quake.  Namie Town’s Mayor Baba has learned that vital information that could have changed the fate of thousands of his town residents (the data contained in the SPEEDI map) had been purposely witheld. Apologizing for the “delay”,  Reconstruction Minister Goshi Hosono explains that the central government had  “feared it might trigger panic. ”  Ummmm…maybe a bit of panic had actually been in order, and certainly a measure of haste would have limited residents’ exposure to the high radiation levels in Namie following the quake and nuclear explosions.  Certainly, if the mayors of both Iitate and Namie had realized the scope of the radioactive fallout, they would have acted differently, evacuating residents to areas well beyond the danger zone and preventing later multiple moves.

Mayor Baba of Namie recently spoke out in an Australian news broadcast, regretting that, “Because we had no information we were unwittingly evacuating to an area where the radiation level was high, so I’m very worried about the people’s health. I feel pain in my heart but also rage over the poor actions of the government.”  Yes, his word choice was “rage”.  And it’s understandable rage at that. One never hears such extreme  language in Japan (at least I personally do not), and his concluding statement is even more startling from the Japanese point of view.  The Mayor himself realizes he’s breaking a social taboo by beginning it with an apology: “It’s not nice language, but I still think it was an act of murder. What were they thinking when it came to the people’s dignity and lives?”  The answer is, tragically, that the central government was not thinking at all about either dignity or life, and Fukushima residents have every right to feel betrayed.

In fact, so do residents of Tokyo, and my own Kanagawa Prefecture. While we assumed ourselves well out of harm’s way, data generated by the government that we never saw clearly showed otherwise. Specifically, it showed that radiation levels on March 15th were alarmingly high, not just in Tohoku, but in Tokyo and Kanagawa as well.  Hiroaki

Thank you, Prof. Koide!

Koide, from the Research Reactor Institute of Kyoto University ( a position he was relegated to as a form of “purgatory” according to some, because of his unguarded criticism of Japan’s nuclear industry)  knew of the extent of this radioactive fallout, but was pressured to withhold the data from publication. Koide-san got his revenge by testifying in front of Japan’s Upper House Government Oversight Committee on May 23rd, and has since become somewhat of a national hero. His speech exposing the government’s dirty tricks and the reality of the threat of radioactivity to Japan’s children was viewed on live stream by thousands at home and abroad, while the you tube video has been widely viewed, shared, and translated into English.   At every demo and rally I have attended, I’ve seen at least one, “Thank you, Koide-Senseii!” sign or banner.

And so, in the end, the full extent of the damage caused by the withholding of vital information by the Japanese government has yet to be evaluated. While Itaru Watanabe, representing the National Science Ministry, now admits that, “….maybe that same data [the SPEEDI map] should have been shared with the public, too. We didn’t think of that. We acknowledge that now,” residents of both Iitate Village and Namie Town continue to suffer from the aftermath of their respective evacuations and re-evacuations.  Google Iitate Village, for instance, and you will find some disturbing statistics gathered from a recent survey of residents who evacuated.  One third of all families, if the Wikipedia article is accurate, are now living apart from their children, which cannot be a good thing. The authors of the fine bi-lingual blog “SeeTell” take a strong stand on the SPEEDI incident, concluding that, “In the end, no-one will be held accountable for this act which was either a calculated and deliberate cover-up to protect the interests of the politicians, bureaucrats, nuclear industry, the US, and whoever else holds influence over this corrupt government or…well…there is no other explanation.”

As for me, I’ll do my best to speak up and speak out, in defense of those who were betrayed.  Calling the government’s witholding of the SPEEDI map an “act of murder” is an extreme statement, but if there are a rash of deaths in years to come from the effects of internal radiation exposure, the Mayor’s words will have been prophetic. In the meanwhile, thousands of people must live with uncertainty and fear, for themselves and their children. That alone is reason for anger and for action. Thank you again for reading.

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.  

Restoring Damaged Ethics

The four young hunger strikers finished up their tenth day this Wednesday, just before a typhoon hit Tokyo in full force.

Do these these two look tired and hungry? It’s been nine days….

Miraculously, the first nine days had been mostly sunny, with only a few scattered showers. ” How will they fare in the pouring rain?” I fretted, opening up my laptop and clicking on the link to their live web camera…..and there they were!  Draped in head- to- toe raingear and grinning unconcernedly, they were engaged in spirited conversation with reporters as if this were a normal day.  I concentrated on Masaaki, the young man from Chiba with the stylish hair, who was speaking with a reporter about what had most impressed him during his ten day ordeal (though I tell you, it did not seem like an ordeal at all. Curiosity-seekers wondering what it’s actually like to deny oneself food for a ten day stretch would come away disappointed, as none of the four betrayed obvious signs of hardship.  They did occasionally stretch out and nap at times, but normal Japanese do that, too).  Anyway,  Masaaki’s response to the reporter both startled and touched me, so I will paraphrase it in English for you: ” We were all surprised,” he said, “by the older people who continued to stop by and apologize to us.  Some wept as they apologized for what their generation had done to our generation, and the four of us didn’t know what to say.  We don’t think of the situation that way at all, and felt there was no need for such humility…”

Haruki Murakami

Listening on the live camera, I thought about the depths of sadness and responsibility felt by those older people, and about the gentle spirits of the young people, who were not about shaming and blaming, but about constructive action in the spirit of peace and healing.  I then re-read the fine English translation of Murakami Haruki’s speech (given on June 10th in Barcelona, Spain, at his acceptance of a prestigious literary award), remembering that Haruki had said something that might be of relevance to the situation. Here’s a link to the speech itself,  found on the blog Senrinomichi...http://www.senrinomichi.com/?p=2728  And I’ll follow with a few tidbits from the speech that I want to share.

Speaking of the years following the second World War,  Murakami speaks of Japan’s choice to follow the path of efficiency and convenience, relying on nuclear power generation as a means to rebuild the country, eventually becoming so dependent on it that alternative power sources came to seem unrealistic and impossible. “Those who harbored doubts about nuclear power generation came to be labelled as ‘unrealistic dreamers’ “, says Murakami , reflecting that “We should have been working to develop alternative energy sources to replace nuclear power at a national level, by harvesting all existing technologies, wisdom and social capital. ”

I have written about some of the “unrealistic dreamers” in past blog entries, including a group of  renegade TEPCO stockholders who faithfully attend meetings each year in order to cause trouble for the nuclear power industry. For twenty years they have held onto their TEPCO stock for the sole purpose of submitting a yearly proposal to abolish nuclear power.  It took a crisis the size of Fukushima to get them news coverage, but this year we finally heard their story, and millions read in the daily papers how one emboldened renegade suggested that the President of TEPCO should  “Jump into the reactors and die!” Another suggested hara-kiri, or Japanese ritual disembowelment. Mind you, I am not suggesting that we express our sentiments in this extreme fashion (anyone who knows me well will vouch for this), but the man is an example of just the sort of person Murakami was speaking about. Those stockholders had probably endured decades of being labelled as crazy, embarrassing, or (at the least) unrealistic. Some of them, no doubt, had wives and family who were mortified by their behavior. After the Fukushima disaster, they were finally vindicated, but it was hardly a moment to rejoice.

 

Murakami also speaks of the crime committed against the environment, which has been poisoned beyond our ability to fully comprehend,  stating boldly that, “we are in fact both victims and perpetrators at the same time…Insofar as we are threatened by the force of nuclear power, we are all victims. Moreover, since we unleashed this power and were then unable to prevent ourselves from using it, we are also all perpetrators.”  And here’s the part that hurts: “….we must be critical of ourselves for having tolerated and allowed these corrupted systems to exist until now. This accident cannot be dissociated from our ethics and values.”  In short, people in Fukushima (and across the country as a whole) are angry for precisely this reason. In many ways, both government and TEPCO officials have refused to take any sort of moral responsibility for the disaster, and seem disassociated from the pain and suffering of the victims, and impervious to the plight of the damaged environment itself.

According to Murakami’s standard, these victims are also “perpetrators”, since many of them took a passive stance when nuclear power plants began to spring up in economically depressed coastal cities. They also enjoyed the benefits of wide-screen TVs (digital, of course), dishwashers, clothes dryers, and other luxuries they could not have dreamed of before , all powered by electricity that they gradually began to take for granted.  And now, many of the older generation that invited the nuclear power plants to their towns and

Plenty of older folk waving placards at Monday’s protest in Tokyo…

earned their livings working for the industry itself are sunk in a morass of deep regret. So….. are they wallowing there in the morass, unable to move beyond their own mortification?  Hardly!  Seniors who are physically able are taking themselves to Tokyo (those in nearby prefectures come by train, and those from Fukushima arrive in chartered busses) to protest.  Although Japanese have a paranoia about giving out any sort of personal information or signing petitions, they are signing

everything in sight. They are marching in the streets along with young mothers pushing strollers; they are carrying placards and cheering loudly at rallys.  I cannot say how unusual this all is, and how stunned I was to attend my first “Demo”in Tokyo this past Monday, to find the streets full of old people. They wanted to talk, they wanted to be interviewed.  They visited the hunger strikers in Kasumigaseki, tearful and apologetic for leaving the country in such a mess.

Spotlight on still more senior citizens: In another previous blog post, I had mentioned Yasutera Yamada, the 72 year old leader of a

Yamada-san and his squad are ready and waiting!

squad of hundreds of older men and women who are ready and waiting to be called in to clean up the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear plant. Having lived full lives already, they are willing to risk potential exposure to radiation and propose working longer shifts to increase efficiency and spare younger workers. According to recent news reports, Yamada and his team are fully organized and prepared to go in to work at a moment’s notice.

I have nothing by respect for the great majority of older people in this country, my own parents-in-law included.  Many feel duly ashamed, are doing their penance by radically cutting their electricity usage, and are willing–even in their seventies and eighties–to literally stand up for change by marching through the streets of Tokyo. Murakami says, “It is the job of experts to rebuild broken roads and buildings, but it is the duty of each of us to restore our damaged ethics and values.”  These old folks might know little of Murakami besides the name, and most are probably not aware that he made the Barcelona speech. Yet they’re on the right track with his value system, are they not?

Okay, skip back to the central government and the TEPCO officials. During Monday’s demonstration in Tokyo, I was asked by an Italian man toting a heavy video camera if I “trusted the Japanese government”?  I thought back to the first days of the nuclear crisis , when the hydrogen explosions were described on television as “a big booming noise” (What? Are we in Nursery School here?).  I remembered assuring friends in America that we hadn’t experienced a meltdown (because that’s what we were told), only to cringe in embarrassment weeks later when it was revealed that my friends were right.  I recalled watching the video of Shunichi Yamashita, the advisor to Fukushima Prefecture on health risk management during the nuclear crisis…..and maybe I’ll share that particular video with you, since this is what really influenced my ultimate mistrust and sense of outrage. The video was taken at a meeting held this Spring, when residents of Fukushima Prefecture were confused and anxious:  should they still be wearing masks?  Should they be hanging their laundry outside?  The current safe standard of radiation dosage per year had recently been “raised”, and what did that mean? And most pressing of all, were their children really safe?

Well, take a look at the “answer” they got. Yamashita-san, a graduate school professor from Nagasaki University,  began the session with what is known as “Ojisan-Gag” here in Japan. In other words, a very bad joke told by an old guy who thinks he’s funny. “Hey, Fukushima is famous, you guys! ” he chortles. “Even more famous than Chernobyl!” (He gets a bit of nervous laughter) Then comes the gag that fell flat as a pancake. “If you’re laughing right now, you won’t experience any effects from radiation. That’s scientifically proven!” he says with a smarmy smile…..followed by dead silence.  The video’s English subtitles are (again) not the best, but please be understanding.  You’ll definitely get the gist.

The meeting that was made famous in Japan by  Yamashita Senseii’s patronizing and unscientific speech took place in the Spring. There are more and longer videos of his advice to Fukushima residents,  always given with a smile (to ensure he won’t have any effects from the radiation?). When residents voiced their concern over government standards for a “safe” level of radiation (the standards had just been raised),  Yamashita-san deferred, “I don’t set the radiation standard. The government sets the standard. I have to follow the government as a Japanese citizen……Our country decided this, and we are its citizens. I think it’s better to think it’s safe and live a normal life than to worry too much about the future.”

Before the nuclear disaster, that kind of pat answer might have worked for some people.

Cesium-tainted topsoil being scraped from the grounds of an elementary school in Fukushima Prefecture.

For many people, even. But the stakes were too high, and parents were not satisfied with Yamashita-san’s answer. When schoolyards, tap water, milk, vegetables, and even sewage were regularly tested and found to contain high levels of cesium, parents became furious. Some had believed the advisor’s words, trusted that they would be safe, and chosen not to evacuate the prefecture.  And most incredibly, although other government officials have been fired because of callous remarks regarding Fukushima, Yamashita-san is still on the job. Mothers in Fukushima want him OUT, and there is currently a petition circulating with his dismissal listed as one of the conditions.

Lastly, let me mention a page I follow on facebook called “Embrace Transition”, dedicated to publishing articles and essays about post-3/11 Japan and the changes and choices that will shape its future.  This week’s offerings featured a moving- and yet ominous- essay by Angela Jeffs, a former London editor who has worked as a journalist and writer in Japan since 1986.  In her essay “Treasure”, Jeffs asks why, in the age of internet and cell phones, Japan’s central government did not move swiftly to evacuate the children of Fukushima, contrasting today’s situation with that of another era, when  230,000 children (including my father-in-law) were evacuted from Tokyo during the US bombings of 1944, with “Only the radio and community spirit and will” to facilitate the process. She makes the point that if such an evacuation had been instigated six months ago, Japan as a country would have rallied to the cause and welcomed the refugees.  Now, she fears, it may be more difficult for those wishing to leave, as discrimination and fears of ‘catching’ radiation sickness could prevent Fukushima evacuees from finding a warm and welcoming community. Although children are constantly referred to as “takara-mono”, or “treasure” in Japan,

Japan’s children: are they really treasures? (photo from Asahi Shinbun)

Jeffs believes the government has not treated them accordingly; in fact, she says, it has betrayed them. Here is her powerful closing: “It is my belief that the Japanese government, hand in hand with the nuclear industry, has committed a crime against humanity. And not only against the children of Fukushima and the north east but-in an ever-widening zone of suspicion and alarm-the children of Japan and the world at large.” Here’s the link to the “Embrace Transition” page on facebook, where you can find more of Angela’s writing and other thought-provoking pieces of writing: http://www.facebook.com/eTransition?sk=app_11007063052

Many people are angry these days.  Many people are worried, anxious, even paranoid about their own health.  Just yesterday, a blogger living in the relative safety of Yokohama posted about his planned “escape”/evacuation to France.  Mothers in Fukushima are moving to Tokyo.  Mothers in Tokyo are moving farther south, west, or even abroad. The population in the big city has already shown a slight decrease.  The anger and anxiety are justifiable, and we all feel a bit of both, to some degree. Yet we must not be overcome by either.  As Murakami said in his speech, we must begin the process of restoring our damaged ethics.

Although the hunger strikers in front of the Economics, Trade and Industy building did not make headlines, they affected individuals, gave people pause to think, and undoubtably made the government officials working inside extremely uncomfortable. Would you want to be feeding your face at noontime when the view from your window is rail-thin students (nice students! not the dirty, foul-mouthed, rough-looking kind), protesting the policies you represent?  Not me, thanks. The hunger strikers had an agenda (bringing an end to reliance on nuclear energy), a well-written and specific petition (asking for, among other things, the immediate halt to the construction of a new nuclear plant in Yamaguchi Prefecture), and infinite reserves of stamina, patience, and goodwill.

 They were pros, who did not slip up once, and saw their project through till the final press conference on the tenth day. They’ve already done their part in repairing damaged ethics as far as I’m concerned, and their generation had nothing to do with the building of nuclear reactors. For them, it’s not about repentance, but about preserving the future for their own children. The path of efficiency and easy living?  They’ve already proved they’re not interested. Flee the country out of fear for their own health?  No, they’re not that type either; there’s work to be done, and my guess is that they’re staying put. Friends of mine have mixed reactions to the hunger strikers, especially since they have already rejected the traditional Japanese path to adulthood. But Murakami would certainly salute them as just the kind of dreamers the country needs. I’ll end with his closing words, since I couldn’t hope to be more eloquent myself.

“We must not be afraid to dream. We should never allow the crazed dogs named ‘efficiency’ and ‘convenience’ to catch up with us. We must be ‘unrealistic dreamers’, who stride forward vigorously. Human beings will die and disappear, but humanity will prevail and will be constantly regenerated.  Above all, we must believe in this force.”

Good night; the air is cool and clear since the last typhoon, and the cicadas have finally ceased their shrilling. I will miss them, till the next summer. Thank you once again for reading.