The Spirit of “Madei”

” A wonderful thing happened when TEPCO visited us. Some villagers were naturally angry with TEPCO and were calling on them to apologize and generally giving them a hard time. But many others told them [the hecklers] to stop as they were bringing shame on the village. ‘We’ve really made a good village here,’  I thought on seeing this. ”

These words were spoken by Norio Kanno,  Mayor of Iitate Village in Fukushima Prefecture.

Iitate Village, northwest of the official evacuation zone, was heavily contaminated and later evacuated.

Iitate village is technically outside of the 30 kilometer evacuation zone, but was heavily contaminated due to a change in wind direction after the hydrogen explosions in March of 2011.  As a blanket of radioactive snow fell upon the village, its citizens, believing themselves outside of the danger zone, were providing shelter for evacuees from villages closer to the Fukushima Daiichi plant. When it was officially announced that levels of radiation in Iitate were alarmingly high (much higher than places within the evacuation zone in some cases), the news was met with shock and disbelief, and the damage was already done.  One month later, the first government-ordered evacuations began, and as of this month, approximately 90% of all residents have fled to neighboring towns or prefectures.  Mayor Kanno told the story of the residents’ meeting with TEPCO officials in May, praising their ability to hold back what could have turned into a raging flood of anger and accusations.

With  Mayor Kanno and the Iitate residents in the back of your mind, let’s move on to a series of articles recently published in the Japan Times about (among other things) anti-nuclear activism and the volunteer spirit in post-3-11 Japan.  According to the Times, although activism and volunteerism are currently at a record high within the country, things look different from a global standpoint.

A January 4th  Japan Times article begins by noting that although change in Japan has traditionally been brought about due to outside factors (i.e. Commandore Perry’s warships in 1853), the country is beginning to change from the inside out, with grassroots activism finally taking a strong hold and young people participating enthusiastically. The movement, given impetus by Internet-savvy mothers who are both emotionally and intellectually engaged,  has empowered average citizens to begin  “..moving toward a more active kind of democracy in which people realize they are the primary actors, not the government.”  Yet, in conclusion, the writer of the article doubts whether the movement is strong enough to impact fundamental change.  Quoting sociologist Ken Matsuda, the writer declares that  “Japan’s affluence is an obstacle. Most people live comfortably and are reluctant to make too big a fuss, even if they’re unhappy with the political leadership.  Culturally, it’s considered better to adjust to one’s surroundings than to try to change them. Most people aren’t hungry or angry.”

Chief Priest of Kiyomizu Temple writes “Kizuna” (photo by Kazunori Takahashi, Asahi Shinbun)

On the same day, January 4th, a Japan Times editorial discussed “Kizuna” (translated as “bonds” or “ties”), the official kanji chosen to represent the year 2011.   The editor praised ordinary Japanese citizens for reaching out to care for the victims of the Tohoku disaster in an unprecedented–in this country– show of generosity and spirit, while chastising TEPCO and the central government for breaking these same bonds, and betraying the social contract between the people and those (supposedly) in control or power.  As an important side note, the editor also regretted that according to an international survey, “….even in 2011 Japan ranked only 105th in giving money, volunteering time and helping strangers. That relatively low worldwide ranking suggests that social bonds in Japan may be more emotionally felt than practically carried out.”  Those statistics bothered me terribly.

One can see why those outside of Tohoku might not feel compelled to protest against the government’s energy policies, or even to disrupt their lives with volunteer trips to Tohoku.  Most Japanese live relatively comfortable lives, and  it’s only too easy for them to disconnect from the events of 3-11 and remain in their cocoon of work, family, and  comforting routines. Yet one would think that those directly affected by the drama would be up in arms, protesting the loss of their homes and livlihoods.  How can we begin to understand why the mayor of Iitate, speaking in early summer when those living in proximity to the evacuation zone were in a state of constant stress and turmoil, expressed his disapproval of the TEPCO hecklers rather than TEPCO?  The Japan Times reporter credits the stoicism and perseverance inherent in Japanese culture (pronouncing these traits to be “liabilities” rather than assets).  Well yes, that certainly makes sense, though it’s difficult for those living in more aggressive cultures to fathom.  But there’s more to it than “gaman”, or stoicism.

Let’s return to the words of  Mayor Kanno, who gave an interview in May with JB Press , which has been translated into excellent English.  In the article, he praises the restraint and gentleness of village residents, explaining that they have been raised in the tradition of “Madei”. Here’s an excerpt:

We have been living a madei life.  ‘Madei’  is local dialect and a concept that has been with us for years. We have many sayings that use this word: If you don’t bring your child up with madei (to be respectful and considerate), there will be trouble later. If you don’t eat your food with madei (with wholeheartedness or without waste), you’ll be punished by the gods and go blind.

The word consists of two kanji characters, one meaning ‘truth’ and the other ‘hand’. If you look in a Japanese dictionary, it will say it means ‘both hands’.  In other words, when giving someone tea, the right way is to use both hands. When catching a ball you can use one hand, but it’s safer and better to use two. ‘Madei’ means respectfully, considerately,  modestly, with care, with spirit, without haste and without waste.

New energy and the like are also important, but the true starting point of the recovery should be making use of people with such feelings-or in other words, people with spirit of madei.

I had not been familiar with the term ‘Madei’, but I could certainly understand the analogy of

Be sure to admire your tea bowl when you’ve finished drinking…and hold it gently.

the tea bowl.  With no “handle”, a Japanese chawan is cradled gently in both hands, very naturally and yet very carefully.  The last dregs of matcha  should not be left to sit, even if drinking them requires a slightly embarrassing (to a westerner) slurp.  When those last dregs have disappeared, some drinkers admire the bowl itself,  turning it and even tipping it upside down to view the craftsman’s seal on the bottom. The whole process is done calmly and without haste, with appreciation for all involved: the tea master (who whisks the powder into frothy tea),  the server (who delivers the bowls with grace, modesty, perfect timing, and perfect placement),  the tea itself (to be savored),  the bowl it is served in, and finally the view from the tatami room or the floral arrangement and scroll displayed in the Tokonoma.   No haste, no waste and no inappropriate chatter, any of which would break the air of serenity and respect.  That same spirit of respect and consideration must be shown, implied Konno-san, even to the representatives of TEPCO, the company that had caused the displacement of an entire community and the contamination of an environment that had sustained them for generations. There is more dignity in silence than in protest.

May 15th: Mayor Kanno comforts a woman on evacuation day (AFP photo/ JIJI Press)

The Mayor of Iitate Village’s words were well-chosen and beautifully expressed; I found them shared and re-printed in countless blogs and newspaper articles as an example of the spirit of Tohoku.  Soon after the  article about Madei was published, the village of Iitate was evacuated, and a photo of Kanno-san, continuing to work at his desk on the last day of official business, appeared in the Mainichi Shinbun. “Even with preparations continuing apace around him, Iitate Mayor Norio Kanno continued his official duties,” read the article. “These are not happy days for his village, and though he appears calm in his work, there is no mistaking his frustration. ‘Where can I put my anger?’ he said. ‘I have to transform it, turn it into a different kind of energy that I can direct to try to get us all back home even one day sooner.’ ”  The Mayor was sounding stressed, but not yet broken or bitter. I followed up on my search, to see what he had to say after the evacuation process had been completed and the de-contamination process had begun.

What I found was not encouraging. Despite findings of plutonium in the ground soil and

Will children return to Iitate Village? (AP Photo/ David Guttenfelder)

continued re-contamination of residential areas due to the village’s proximity to a cesium-laden  forest, Iitate is scheduled to be fully “disinfected”, spruced up, and re-populated within the next two years.  At least that’s the plan of the Central Government. The village is now a ghost town (though one central government official lost his job for saying as much), families with small children have declared their intention not to return, and Mayor Kanno is bluntly critical of TEPCO’s declaration–and the government’s acceptance – of a state of cold shutdown at the Daiichi power plant.  In the December 17 issue of AJW Asahi Shinbun , the Mayor is quoted as saying, “It’s out of the question to call it [the Daiichi Power Plant] under control. They know nothing about the reality here.” I found this in sad contrast to the serenity of his “Madei” speech, yet perhaps this transformation from sage to short-tempered local official was inevitable.  Though the Mayor has lost his serenity (and has become an insomniac, staying awake worrying about the future), he retains his dignity, continues to work hard, and remains devoted to the people of his village, though Iitate’s shops are closed, and its people scattered far and wide.

After reading up on the recent history of Iitate Village, I came away feeling overwhelmed at the complexity of the situation and nothing but sympathetic toward those involved. Residents and local officials of Fukushima are what we call “sei ippai”, or pushed beyond their limits. Families are forced to leave their homes behind, yet still making mortgage payments. Fathers are living alone in Fukushima while mothers and children make new lives for themselves in Tokyo, learning to get along just fine without Papa (this was confirmed to me by several mothers I met at an event for evacuees. “We know we should be depressed,” they said. “but the children are happy here in Tokyo, and they keep our spirits up. It’s our husbands who are suffering.” ) Families are being shuffled from one temporary housing complex to another without being able to put down roots anywhere. Saddest of all are the men who have lost their livelihoods; many have worked at a single profession for twenty or thirty years, and lack the flexibility and skills to start again in a new line of work. Not that there are openings outside of clearing rubble, patrolling areas inside the evacuation zone, or taking a turn at cleaning up the mess at the Fukushima Daiichi plant.

Mayor Norio Kanno : devoted to his community.

When the central government first acknowledged that Iitate had suffered heavy contamination through a fluke of weather, the Mayor set about trying to protect the residents’ safety (he evacuated mothers, babies, and small children immediately, along with those who expressed worry or anxiety) while at the same time attempting to keep the infrastructure of the village functioning. Kanno-san did his best to keep businesses up and running in Iitate until the very last factory was forced to shut down, and established a task force of local residents to patrol  deserted streets, protecting the homes that still held their inhabitants’ possessions. He also fought to let elderly nursing home residents stay within the evacuation zone, arguing that the stress of moving could be more injurious to their condition that the threat of radiation. His own mother-in-law died en route to an evacuation center, as did many other elderly patients. One horrific news report that sticks in my memory is of a busload of bedridden elderly folks, unused to sitting, caught in traffic trying to reach the “safety” of a neighboring city. By the time they reached their destination, many of them had become critically ill, and one old woman was dead in her seat.

In some areas, families near the Daiichi plant evacuated hastily, leaving pets outside to fend for themselves and livestock trapped in their stalls to die of hunger. Mayor Kanno wanted to make sure that the evacuation of Iitate was done slowly, carefully, and with consideration for

“The Power of Madei” was published in April of 2011.

the needs of everyone in the community. Whether or not he was right to take things slow– in the spirit of madei– one cannot argue that he has not been devoted to his community. That community has already broken apart, but before the evacuation they were able to publish a book they had been putting together called “The Power of Madei”, adding a photo of their scenic village (as it was before the quake) to the back cover.

I was saddened (but not surprised) to hear that Mayor Kanno received severe criticism and even hate mail regarding his reluctance to evacuate each and every citizen immediately.  This was  tragically misdirected anger that should have been directed at both TEPCO and the central government. While Kanno-san spent sleepless nights fretting over the moral implications and practical issues involved with evacuation, TEPCO was callously re-locating tsunami survivors in bayside apartments in Yokohama (true: I read it–again, in the Japan Times– just this morning. A sixty-year old woman has spoken out about re-living the trauma of the tsunami from her window each and every day)!  And then there are the 60 page forms that must be filed to receive monetary compensation from TEPCO; the company has actually paid out very little money so far, as so few of the complicated forms have been successfully completed and filed. I could list more examples, but you get the picture.

 Now let’s return to the Japan Times articles, deploring the reluctance of  Japanese citizens to engage in activism,  speak out,  volunteer, or give as generously as citizens of other well-to-do nations.  The point I want to make is this: Japan as a country must take more action and give more generously, and it is up to those outside of  (or in relatively unaffected areas of) Tohoku to stand up for those who are pushed beyond their limits and focused on survival.  As long as victims of the triple disaster are still recovering from the loss of family, friends, homes, and communities, the rest of the country needs to be working diligently to try to right the wrongs that have been done. The central government must not seek to patronize or reassure, but must present the facts as they stand.  As this does not seem likely to happen in the near future,  reporters must be willing to take risks to bring outright lies or unpleasant truths to light (Japan’s top journalists did not report from inside the evacuate zone until late April, as it had been deemed “dangerous”, and employers literally forbid their reporters to go) , and major networks and newspapers must publish their findings.  Again, as this does not seem likely to happen for some time, individuals have a responsibility to dig for facts on their own, going to blogs, videos, and  reputable on-line publications.

Since it also does not seem likely that the average Japanese middle-aged woman will be spending her evenings surfing the internet (she is busy serving dinner on a staggered time-scale, as her children and husbands all arrive home at different times from their various cram schools and work. She also drives back and forth to the station to pick them up, cleans their dishes afterwards, and does the preparations for making the next day’s box lunches. She then is the last one into the family bath, and the last one to bed.)  The average middle-aged man will not be checking out underground blogs, either.  He’s too exhausted from work, and a beer and a good TV game show are more tempting.  Those of us who do dig for facts and stories (and find them!) would probably do best to wait for the opportunity to poke and prod, rather than trumpeting our findings.  Beating our friends over the head with “the truth” will only cause greater damage in this country where “speaking out” means “causing someone to worry”, and ensures our alienation  from the audience we so hope to reach.

…but what if someone sees me on the nightly news?!

Multiple polls have shown that the majority of Japanese citizens are in favor of closing down the remainder of the country’s nuclear power plants and investing in alternative energy sources…..yet those who cast their vote with the reassurance of anonymity are “not comfortable” marching in demonstrations (“What if someone sees my face on the nightly news?!”), signing petitions (“They might get my name and send me things!”), volunteering on weekends ( “Who would take care of my husband?”), or even donating a significant amount of money (“You never know if it’s going to be used appropriately!”).  I’ve heard all of these reasons/excuses, and think very little of them. It seems that the Japan Times is right on target: people feel sympathy for victims of the Tohoku triple disaster and are truly worried for the future of their country; however, this does not translate into action, and it is a shame.

So how can those who are emotionally involved begin to poke and prod? Among like-minded friends in the blogging world this is a constant dilemma, as we read each other’s articles and encourage each other, while realizing that the people we would most love to connect with are not reading our words. We continue writing, however, and I believe this is crucial. We write to formulate our own arguments, define our own ideas, and then throw them out to sea…perhaps we might get a bite, and a complete stranger will find them. The stranger reads them, learns something, is motivated to act, and our efforts have been worthwhile.

Writing is hardly a social endeavor, though, and I am a social creature. I therefore poke and prod in my workplace as well, by bringing up various human interest stories shown on the NHK nightly news; it’s the national TV channel, and I know my women friends are watching,  so it’s a natural topic of conversation. I do my best to keep Tohoku on the radar, and to find out where friends and relatives stand on various issues, as well as inserting my own thoughts and challenges whenever possible. I poke carefully, rather than insistently, with results that are probably dubious at best. I feel an affinity with Mayor Kanno, I suppose, wanting to prevent potential harm by moving too swiftly or without proper care and consideration.

In the end,  I’ve been touched by the story of Iitate Village.  I relate to the

Iitate grampa showing off his family tree. I wonder where he’s at now…

story of  Mayor Kanno, struggling to preserve the dignity, as well as the safety, of his community. I’m saddened to think of the community that no longer exists in a physical sense,  yet its members have managed to preserve the spirit of their tradition in a book, and in the words of their mayor, which have been so widely shared.  Good for them, and shame on the government and on TEPCO for breaking the bonds of trust by not protecting those dependent on them.  Let us hope and pray that the villagers who have left Iitate will become vital members of new communities and create new bonds, while continuing to honor those who lost their lives on 3-11 through a mixture of natural tragedy and human folly. Thank you for reading, and good night.

 

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.

Prophets, Prophecies, and Open Wounds

All the fuss about a Rapture has been unknown and irrelevant here in Hadano City, and probably across most of the nation, with the exception of young people on Twitter or Facebook who have friends in the US.  I tried, in vain, to explain the concept to my co-workers this week, and was met with bewilderment and only mild interest.  Earthquakes?  Floods?  Just part of living within the Rim of Fire.  End of the World?  Well, that’s exactly what the Tohoku quake and tsunami must have felt like, and folks survived, didn’t they?  Not just the bad ones, either.  Anyway,  Japan has its own prophets (called “Yogensha”), and now the nation is in the process of rediscovering them.

I recently attended a concert with an old friend; we hadn’t seen each other for nearly a year, so at the post-concert dinner we had a bit of catching up to do.  It is customary these days to greet friends we meet only infrequently with, “Are you okay since the quake?  How were you that day??” (Not necessarily, “What were you doing?”, though that’s usually the follow-up question).  Since most of my friends are from either Kanagawa or Tokyo prefecture, we all know that we were okay–there were upsets and minor injuries, but no deaths this far South.  That said, most of us were not really emotionally okay the day of the quake, and the aftershocks that followed left us nervous and shaken.  So we recount our own experiences, and inevitably agree that we’ve never been quite that frightened, EVER.  Then we must mention how lucky we were, and how much harder it was and still is for the victims in Tohoku. Even if we don’t know anyone personally, we can imagine. Those who lack imagination have only to turn on the nightly news, which still focuses nearly exclusively on the disaster, as well as the country’s efforts to save energy (“setsu-den”).

My friend Fusae-san and I had finished detailing our personal quake stories, had covered the “so sad for the victims” part, and were starting on dessert. That’s when she informed me that I  *must* read the latest blog that *everyone* was talking about. All ears, I asked for details.  Apparently, the blog was written by an older woman, whose posts were now considered prophetic, and who has become an instant celebrity. Her name was Matsubara Teruko, and according to Fusae, her posts were actually typed by her daughter, as she was not computer-literate.  Ooooh, good stuff–a prophet!  I  Googled her the next day, and she popped up immediately after I typed in “Matsubara”….a celebrity indeed!  I struggled to read her posts in Japanese (found them rambling, but cheery), and paid particular attention to the month of February (as Fusae had suggested).  What I found was….dubious at best.  Among a myriad of other topics were mentions of preparing for disaster, based on the Christchurch Quake and other disasters across the globe that were linked together in her mind. ” You can never be too prepared!” was her basic message, and although sensible and praiseworthy, I hardly consider that advice prophetic. Nonetheless, she is now wildly popular, and everyone loves a little old lady with her own blog.

Other prophets are more long-suffering, and have spent their lives in a very Biblical fashion, warning their neighbors, and  being consistently ignored and even shunned by their own families. Wednesday’s NY Times Global Edition gave two of these prophets validation and instant fame, by publishing their stories on its front page.  Nagano Eiichi, ninety years old, and Shiratori Yoshika, seventy-eight, are lifelong anti-nuclear activists. They and their colleagues have known nothing but defeat in court battles, warnings from employers, and harassment from their neighbors. Suddenly, the tables have turned, and “the aging protestors are now heralded as truth-tellers, while members of the nuclear establishment are being demonized.” (Martin Fackler) Another elderly man from the town of Iwaki in Fukushima is now not only a prophet, but a hero. After years of preaching to deaf ears ( we’re on the coast! A tsunami could strike any minute, and we’re not prepared! ) , Suzuki Tokuo had gone so far as to create his own evacuation manual, distribute it to the entire community, and make plans for an evacuation drill in the fall. As he was discussing the plans with a local police officer, the quake struck!  Fearing the onset of a  tsunami, Suzuki boldly hopped into the passenger seat of the police car, urging the officer to begin cruising the neighborhood.  Indeed, the tsunami did strike shortly after, and the two could see the water moving in from their hilltop vantage-point. According to the Asahi Shinbun, Suzuki used the microphone inside the patrol car to warn residents to flee to higher ground, first urging , and then “ordering”.  Those who heard and took him seriously were saved, but many still doubted and lost their lives.

And so, in the end, the prophets are now enjoying fame and recognition after enduring years of humiliation and defeat.  Most find this only small consolation. Nagano Eiichi, the ninety-year-old nuclear activist, finds his fame especially bittersweet. “If we had done more, if our voices had been louder, we could have prevented the disaster at Fukushima Daiichi,” he says. Perhaps. I personally find it sad that Japan’s young people have been sluggish and apathetic until this point. Older activists like Nagano, Suzuki, and Shiratori have been consistently ignored by college students and their entire generation (who I sometimes suspect have been too busy plucking their brows, creating elaborate hairstyles, and keeping themselves otherwise well-groomed), and have been unable to drum up support for their efforts. Well, no longer!  College students, young parents, and thirty-something office workers are now all on the band wagon, marching in Shibuya and getting photographed in spiffy clothes. They owe a debt to their elders, who did the hard work for them.

This week’s news has been packed with new revelations from the Fukushima Daiichi plant, including the resignation of the TEPCO president, who “accepts responsibility” for the disaster. He will carry the weight of his role in the dirty dealings surrounding the crippled plant for the rest of his life, but now at least the multiple burdens of shutting down the plant, preventing further environmental damage, making compensation payments to all manner of claimants (including, it has been determined, emotional damage payments to families in Fukushima forced to evacuate to shelters), and somehow managing to stay solvent, have been lifted from his shoulders. I’d guess he’ll be sleeping pretty well, all things considered.

Things are still raw and painful for folks up North, as evidenced by more small tidbits of news.  A “rakugo” storyteller attempting to cheer up shelter families with his performances is meeting with only mixed success, despite sticking to lighthearted traditional tales. “Some people can’t even laugh yet; they just walk out when I start,” he admitted.  My friend whose mother lives in Sendai also confirms this.  According to her Sendai friend, there are many stories that never make the news here about parents who have lost children; many have also lost their sanity, and some their will to live. Suicides are not unusual, she said, though they are not publicized.  Thinking of my own children and imagining my life without them, I can fully believe this. On the other end, children who have lost either one or both parents have now returned to school, and are attempting to find a measure of normalcy themselves. Three hundred students in Iwate prefecture’s Ootsuchi  Middle School are packed like sardines into a school built to hold one hundred; half of them are commuting from shelters, and many have lost one or more parents. Their teachers have had “two hours of special training on post-traumatic stress”, but that seems like only a drop in the bucket to me.

Meanwhile in Tokyo, despite the dark trains and uncomfortably warm restaurants and stores (no air conditioning!  Even CURVES was cooled only by a floor fan today, and I was sweating bullets), there are pockets of cheer. Because offices are committed to keeping the use of air conditioning to a minimum this summer, businessmen will now be allowed to wear cooler, and “cooler” clothes to work, including Hawaiian shirts and jeans (no holes please) !  Whether they will or not remains yet to be seen, but fashion retailers are hopeful. My husband is disgusted, and has already stated his intention to continue in the ranks of the uncool and sweaty.

So that’s the situation  for now….or at least a very small sliver of a big big pie. In closing this entry, I want to post a link to a new blog I’ve just found that might be of interest.  A Yokohama man has set off for Ishinomaki , and is working with the volunteer group Peaceboat in the clean-up and restoration of the city; you’ll be surprised by some of the situations he encounters, and get a first-hand account of how foreigners are aiding in the reconstruction efforts.  http:ishinomakiwithpeaceboat.wordpress.com     Again, thank you for reading, and enjoy whatever the day might bring.

"Hey, where were you guys when we needed you?"