Tag Archives: Fukushima

Where things change very slowly

Seems I wasn’t the only one who heard the call of the anti-nuclear power plant protestors outside the Japanese Prime Minister’s residence and decided to see what was happening. In amongst the crowds that gathered yesterday was former PM Yukio Hatoyama. The wheels-within-wheels and behind the scenes machinations of politics being what they are, it seems less than likely that he had entirely pure motives for wanting to join in calling for no more restarts to the country’s nuclear power plants.

Still, as we were held for a time behind barricades, watched over by bored police officers and an array of cameras, it was difficult to escape the feeling that all this celebrity attention could mean that the weekly protests are becoming too big to ignore. That hasn’t prevented some of Japan’s media from trying, with coverage of Monday’s huge Yoyogi Park gathering making headline news… on page 38 of certain publications.

And some remained unimpressed by Hatoyama’s appearance at the demo, with one attendee quoted in the Japan Today story saying:

He can come here and say something impressive but it doesn’t really matter. This is a grass roots movement. Things change very slowly in Japan, but we must continue to protest.

I would agree with that assessment. The crowd I saw on Friday night was striking not only for the people you would have expected to see – students and seasoned protestors among them – but also the business people, families and retirees that I imagine could be experiencing standing in the streets outside the Prime Minister’s house shouting slogans for the first time.

It would be easy to say that there are no easy answers to Japan’s current energy difficulties. The protestors in the streets understand that glib soundbites won’t provide the necessary solutions, here’s hoping that the politicians, former amd current, are also cottoning on to that.

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You say you want a revolution?

I have a confession to make. I’m not in this picture.

You say you want a revolution, well you know,
we all want to change the world

– The Beatles, Revolution

Protestors have been coming together in Tokyo each Friday evening, gathering outside the Prime Minister’s residence to demonstrate against the restarting of some of the country’s nuclear power plants. Not me though. Instead, your fearless correspondent was sipping a vodka tonic, pontificating on what it all meant and making bold statements all over the internet about what an heir to Orwell she is.

If Orwell had walked into that bar he probably would have told me to go to hell and he would have been right. I don’t have the excuse of working on a Friday, or having commitments, or living far away from the district where the demonstrations have been taking place, like others who would have loved to attend but couldn’t. With no good excuse, only my own preoccupations, I’ve been lazily watching as the protests built via word of mouth to the point where organisers and police could argue about tens or hundreds of thousands attending (organisers say around 150,000, the police 20,000).

So I sipped my drink and pondered the more-than-fifty shades of grey area that surround The Nuclear Question:

Because it’s dangerous, sure. There could be another earthquake and tsunami at any time. But we need the electricity. Except TEPCO (the utility in charge of Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant) falsified safety test results, while METI (the Government department with oversight of the industry) looked the other way. You like electricity, especially the lights, the music and the air conditioning that it brings, but when the yakuza are all but running some plants, who is really overseeing them? Fukushima Daiichi was years out of date, as well as poorly maintained and inspected, they don’t build nuclear power plants like that any more.

Maybe alternative power can make up the gap, Panasonic is planning to build a town where all the houses are energy self-sufficient to show it can be done or we could just switch all the old power plants back on and this time make sure they get checked properly. Can Japan innovate again, this time on renewables and will we really do setsuden (power saving) properly when the air conditioners are already running full blast and it’s only July?

I heard they want to make Miyagi a hub for green manufacturing as part of the reconstruction but it’s a big gamble, the Oi nuclear power plant is built on a fault but up and running at full capacity and the kids of Fukushima have radiation in their thyroid glands but still talk on the Children of the Tsunami video about how they want to go home but people must know that’s a never by now. If we switch all the plants off the economy is doomed, it will mean no jobs, but the lakes are radioactive, parents aren’t letting their children drink tap water although the neon and screens are loud and bright in Shibuya and please show me the box where I mark the ‘X’ that makes this all go away for another few years…

How to cover all those thoughts with a slogan like ‘no nukes’ is beyond me, so I drink more vodka and lime and try to pretend it isn’t happening, for an evening at least. How do we begin to fix this mistake, sixty years in the making? Collective errors that brought nuclear power plants and prosperity to the regions of Japan, yet left them mismanaged and vulnerable to natural disasters. It is easy to forget, but the plants weren’t dumped on places like Fukushima, they were welcomed by populations desperate for the jobs and incomes they brought with them.

And I can’t help thinking that if Fukushima Daiichi had possessed a back-up generator on a hill somewhere – or even on its own roof – if the inspectors had made sure the company was prepared for the once in a lifetime event, if everyone had done their jobs like they were supposed to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. No anger, no disbelief, no mistrust, no demonstrations.

The banner I want to hold says ‘no stupidity’ or ‘no hubris’, perhaps. No more cosy lunches between regulators and the regulated. I don’t know if we can un-invent nuclear power now it exists, or make it safe enough to be used to power us into a greener future. I don’t know if we can convince politicians to look beyond the short term and their own self-interest. I do know that if enough of us put down our drinks, get involved, engage with the problems that have us wide-awake and staring at 4am instead of rolling over and going back to sleep, maybe we can get a little closer to that revolution after all.

I went down to the demonstration to get my fair share of abuse

– Rolling Stones, You Can’t Always Get What You Want

I know where I’ll be next Friday evening. See you there?

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Six months

Today is a day of anniversaries, perhaps rightly, the 10-year one garnering more attention worldwide, while the six-month one occupies minds closer to home.

As central and local governments in Japan set a 10 year goal to restore the ruined areas in the north-east of the country, it is difficult to see how that task could be any tougher.  The Japan Times cites the huge costs involved, the need to rethink communities to ensure residents are protected from future disasters and the ongoing catastrophe of Fukushima nuclear power plant as areas of concern:

… the massive piles of debris kept in temporary storage sites along the coast are just one indicator that a huge amount of work remains to be done.

Creating new jobs is a priority, as many people who worked for businesses that were wrecked in March remain unemployed. A recent labor ministry survey showed that at least 70,000 people in Iwate, Miyagi and Fukushima prefectures lost their jobs because of the quake-tsunami catastrophe.

It all makes for a full in-tray for Japan’s brand new Prime Minister, not helped by yesterday’s resignation of industry minister Yoshio Hachiro over ‘controversial’ comments that the radiation-riddled areas close to the crippled Fukushima plant were now like ghost towns.  Perhaps his also-reported jest about wiping radiation from his clothes onto those of journalists was a little weak and poorly timed, but criticism and his resignation serves to avoid the obvious truth in the words.

In the days after the disaster, as Japan collectively held its breath and accurate information trickled out from TEPCO while contaminated water gushed from its plant, the response was characterised by mishap and unpreparedness, according to the Mainichi Daily News:

The government hoped that if the plan was successful, it could lift emergency evacuation preparation orders for areas lying between 20 and 30 kilometers from the plant. However, a series of minor accidents, including temporary malfunctions and leaks from the 4-kilometer-long hose used to carry the water, slowed down the operation, and the operations of the system has not yet been stabilized. According to official data, 32 mishaps with the water purification system had occurred by mid-August.

As the old Irish joke goes, if you were going to restore the ravaged areas of the country, you wouldn’t start from here.  In the face of such official dereliction of duty, it does offer some comfort to read of people finding hope and strength, from the Otsuchi convenience store owner in the Japan Times story above, to the family of young Nozomi Sato, born on March 12.  In the words of her father, Shigeru:

When I go back home everyday my wife and children are there. It may sound so trivial, but to me it is an everyday relief.

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How to help Japan

Following the survivors’ stories and video footage, here is the Tohoku earthquake rendered as numbers and facts (with thanks to Michael Soron for his illuminating post):

The government estimates the material damage from the quake and tsunami alone could top $300 billion, making it by far the world’s costliest natural disaster

This means that this year Japan is likely to move from being the world’s biggest donor to the biggest recipient of aid.  Other statistics are notable for the individual stories and hardships that undoubtably lie behind them:

  • A total of 12,485 households in the north were without electricity Tohuku Electric Power Co said
  • At least 79,000 households in five prefectures were without running water, the Health Ministry said
  • At least 95,107 buildings have been fully destroyed, washed away or burnt down, the National Police Agency of Japan said

With much of the attention naturally being drawn towards the ongoing situation at Fukushima nuclear power plant, there is a gap emerging.  People living in evacuation centres need practical assistance now, with everything from food to clothing to transport.

Some innovative and inspiring individuals are helping to make a difference, such as the Dutch architect developing plans for a community centre in Iwate and the Free Tohoku blog, a collective of concerned people seeking to match immediate needs with donations.  One of the Free Tohoku initiatives has been to urge the city of Abiko in Chiba to send abandoned commuter bicycles to those who have lost their means of transport – a vital link to resources and employment.

Faced with the numbers and such unimaginable destruction, it is easy to feel powerless and small, that there is nothing one person can do to assist.  I believe that the opposite is true.  There are links to disaster relief organisations hereQuakebook is available to buy hereBikes for Japan is here.  You and I may not be able to rebuild lost buildings or deliver aid to the stricken areas, but we can support those who can.  Together we can help the people of those areas get back on their feet.

Gambatte! (You can do it!)

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Japan faces Golden Week dilemma

What is the correct response when a student offers you potentially radioactive peach sponge cake?

Despite warnings of an 80% drop in tourist numbers this year, one of my students, a lovely and very generous lady, drove for hours and sat in huge traffic jams to visit the famous 1,000 year old cherry trees of Miharu.  They are located just 30 kilometres away from the damaged nuclear power plant.  When asked if she felt afraid, she laughed and said not at all, instead she felt it was her duty to support the people of Fukushima.  She had brought us all cake as a gift from her trip.

As the Golden Week holiday approached, there was much soul-searching as to whether to holiday or not to holiday.  People are torn between wanting to support the tourism industry and the Japanese economy, and the sensitivities of enjoying holidays when others in the country are living in emergency shelters.  One way to resolve these competing urges has been to arrange travel in order to help in Tohoku, with large numbers of volunteers heading north this week.  I am hoping to do the same later in the year, but for now, will be doing my duty in the tourism sites and retail outlets of Kyoto.

So what do you do when a student offers you cake from 30 kilometres south of Fukushima?

Easy.

I ate it and can report that it was delicious! 

ten minutes hate wishes you a happy Golden Week, however you decide to spend it.

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Cause: earthquake

Teacher, where were you… when big earthquake…?

In case I’m not sure what they mean, the student helpfully makes a motion to demonstrate the shaking with their hands at this point in the question.  I was only halfway through my first week back at work when I began to run out of new ways to tell the same stories.  Friday 11 March was like a terrible film on almost constant loop in my head.

The students are lucky, in a way, because they only have to tell theirs once.  Japanese stoicism being what it is, I suppose this might be their only opportunity to speak out loud and I don’t begrudge them taking it at all.  I reflect that I am also in quite a privileged position, being able to listen to voices that aren’t often heard by gaijin.  Students have voiced criticisms to me that I doubt they would tell a spouse or a parent if the normal rules hadn’t been suspended for a short time by the crisis.

They tell me of having to sleep in the office, on a piece of cardboard or in a family restaurant because of suspended trains.  Of taking in family members from the North who have left everything behind.  Of their disbelief at US news outlets thinking Sendai is located in Kyushu in the West.  Or they speak of how business is being disrupted, the usual routine thrown into disarray by colleagues relocating, shipments being delayed and a thousand other factors.  Everyone is busy, working hard, worrying about the future and where it might lead.

Japan feels alone…

…one student tells me, fearful that tourists – rare even in better times due to the yen’s strength – will no longer want to come because of the radiation.  So I mention that I have family about to arrive and they are so happy to hear the news, we talk of places my relatives should visit while they are here and it is a relief to turn to a less fraught topic of conversation for a short while.  It seems such a small crumb of comfort to be able to offer when what is needed is a feast.

Picture from the Yamanote line, Saturday 12 March

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Quakebook

I have been incredibly impressed with Twitter since 11 March.  The earth had hardly stopped shaking before friends around the globe were using the service to get in touch, checking that I was still in one piece and sending their good wishes.  Some time later, when it became apparent that the Tokyo transport network was going to remain out of action for a while, and when phone calls didn’t connect and emails (the Japanese version of SMS text messages) were impossible to send, miraculously Twitter was still working.

It was a real comfort to be in contact with people I ‘know’, both in the real-life sense and because we follow each other, as well as to be able to gather essential information such as the location of Tokyo’s emergency shelters and, more importantly, on the tragedy that was still unfolding in northern Japan.

The real-time, verifiable nature of posts on Twitter has been constantly illuminating, with even entities such as the Japanese Prime Minister and the UK Foreign Office now using it.  The latest reports from the Fukushima plant, Geiger counter readings from Tokyo rooftops, news about train stoppages and planned blackouts, calls for volunteers to sort relief packages, donation appeals and more have all been shared between residents of Japan and other countries at a pace undreamt of by the newspapers and magazines.

Then, just as I thought I couldn’t love it any more, being already prepared to fight to the death anyone dismissing it as trivial, last week Twitter upped an already quite high ante.  Galvanised by an appeal from Our Man in Abiko for assistance, an international array of writers, artists, translators, designers and editors has volunteered time and effort to create what has come to be known as #quakebook to raise money for the Japanese Red Cross.

Watching #quakebook move from one man’s idea to reality in such a short time has been an inspiration.  However, now it is time for the real work to begin.  Quakebook needs YOU, not only to buy a copy, but to tell your friends and family, to pester everyone you work with or sit next to on the bus, to spread the word as far and as wide as you can to make sure that loads of people buy a copy of this remarkable book.  It isn’t about ego, or glory, or even about the tale of how it went from one little tweet to an actual thing.  Now it is only about raising stacks and stacks of cold, hard cash for the people affected by the earthquake of 11 March.  So please, get involved.

Abiko expects.

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Rough day

Yesterday was tough.  The first full day back to work since the earthquake was always going to be something of a shock to the system and naturally there was only one main theme of conversation for the adult students.  Where were you, what did you see and exactly how long did it take you to get home?

There was also a genuine curiosity as to how a real live foreigner is reacting to the crisis.  Maybe they have read about the ‘flyjin‘ and are surprised to see that some of us have stayed, but there was also genuine concern for my safety, some checking that I knew what to do during a quake and enquiries as to how my family felt about me still being here.

It felt slightly strange to be providing reassurance that I felt safe, knew that I should open a door and duck under a table, that I had huge faith in Japanese engineering and building technology after seeing how little damage there had been in central Tokyo.  I am not entirely sure if I was trying to comfort those listening or myself.  As students told me that they jumped every time they heard a strange noise in the office, that they were buying bottled water as a precaution for their daughters or that a 30-minute commute home had taken seven hours to complete, I wondered whether we would ever be able to return to ‘normal’.

I also wondered what this was accomplishing, feeling equally powerless to assist in the face of such devastation or a student’s sudden tears.  So I came home, opened a bottle of wine, heard from some amazing people on Twitter and then regained a sense of perspective.  I didn’t have a tough day at work.  It was perhaps a little rougher than usual, but not in any way tough.  If you want to see some people who had a tough day at work yesterday, click here.

The Fukushima 50 are risking everything to keep everyone in Japan safe.  So next time I feel like having a whinge, I will be thinking of everything they are going through and lifting my chin a little higher.

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Are you ok?

So how are you?  Are you doing ok?  How is everything there?  What’s happening?  You alright?

These and other variations on the same theme have been pinging around the world into the inboxes and ears of many residents of Japan since the earthquake of 11 March.  There is no easy way to answer such questions, it seems, because every time I try I come up with something different.

Just as I wrote those words, the earthquake alarms that many people have on their mobile phones sounded, before my table in the cafe shook lazily, almost soothingly, as if a giant foot was somewhere trying to rock a cradle holding Japan to send us all to sleep.  It only went on for a couple of seconds, so can’t have been very big or must have been located far away.  Once I was sure that my cup of tea wasn’t going to spill I returned to my writing.

Such complacency must seem incredible to Westerners, faced with images of the devastation in the North and worrying about us here in Tokyo.  If I stop to think I am also incredulous at how quickly I have become used to aftershocks and alarms, how swiftly I can now calculate levels of immediate danger and decide if they are worth getting out of my chair for.  Similarly, it feels as if we have all become armchair experts on all things nuclear, discussing levels of radiation exposure,  possible side-effects of iodine tablets and the relative impacts of micro- and milli-sieverts in the same way that we once engaged in more idle chatter.

Yet, in spite of the essential rescue efforts still going on in the stricken areas, continuing attempts to save the power plant from meltdown and the reintroduced programme of rolling blackouts, life is returning to a semblance of normality in the capital.  People are commuting and shopping and eating and drinking, as they were before.  I will be back at work later on today and the return to the familiar routine is soothing to the nerves, if likely to prove detrimental to the writing schedule.

The decision to stay in Japan and in Tokyo was the right one for me, I feel sure.  However, that should not be taken as criticism of anyone who made an alternative choice.  We all had to make a decision we were comfortable with, in the face of rapidly altering facts and opinions from an array of experts located around the globe.  We all had different factors to consider and it would have tested the judgment of Solomon at times to know which were the deciders.  Only someone who was here would know the agony of that choice, which is why I am saddened this morning to read this from the Japan Times:

I have seen some nasty stuff written by some (foreigners) who stayed about those (foreigners) who have left

Shame on anyone engaging in such nastiness.  Was it worth it to move a family out of possible harm’s way, to head home to give loved ones a hug or simply to sleep one night in a bed that was unlikely to be rocked by that giant’s foot?  Of course, I recognise the pull of such concerns as I was almost swayed by them myself.  Although in the end other factors won out for me, I don’t have it in me to condemn anyone who chose to answer the question ‘are you ok?’ in person instead of via email, Skype or status update.

But many people in this fantastic country that I am lucky enough to call home are unable to answer that question positively and will not be in a position to do so for a very long time.  Please send as much help as you can, the British Red Cross appeal or Second Harvest Japan are both doing sterling work.  My answer to your question?  Yes, yes I am and thank you so much for asking.

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A week later

An evening spent writing, with the Stones on the stereo and a glass of whisky close at hand.

That was my plan for last Friday evening, mulled over as I headed into Tokyo for a little light shopping on a beautiful spring day off work that luckily coincided with payday.  Nature had other ideas though and once they were unleashed, it would be close to 30 hours before I saw my own front door again after walking through it that morning.

Now, a week later, we sit in a basement bar with the rumble of trains above our heads, swapping tales of where we were and what we saw, things we have read and can still barely believe.  We don’t have any words to castigate those who made the alternative call, knowing that their reasons were as sound as the ones that kept us here, but knowing equally that we have made the right one for us.  We are glad we stayed.

Colleagues, compatriots and strangers, all have become friends.  We have hugged each other, soothed ragged nerves with laughter and together we have survived.  We are no longer worried or fearful for ourselves, but for those in Northern Japan who have lost everything as the snow falls, the brave-beyond-words technicians in the power plant and loved ones at home who read the papers or watch the news and believe what they show.

The picture of a terrified Japan displayed in the UK media is not one I recognise.  In the last seven days I have come to love the people of this city and country more than I believed possible.  Today we were in Ueno, where the Zoo has been anticipating the unveiling of two giant pandas. The event has been delayed by the earthquake but the station is all set for their debut, as well as being a blaze of sakura blooms for this weekend’s hanami (flower viewing) holiday:

There is a long road ahead to heal the people and places left so devastated by last Friday’s earthquake, but from what I have seen in the last seven days, I know it can be done.  Whatever my own small part in that will be, I am ready to play it.

Ganbatte Nippon!

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