Dispatch from another world
Nuclear paranoia in Japan
In the 17th century, 18,000 black pine trees were planted in Rikuzentakata, a small Japanese coastal town in the north- eastern Iwate prefecture. Subsequent generations continued the forestation and by the mid 18th century 70,000 pines lined this small fraction of the Pacific Coast. The trees were not there for decoration, nor was the planting part of a religious ritual. It was a practical measure designed to protect the vulnerable town from destructive, house eating waves. The locals could venture out to sea and enjoy their oyster fishing safe in the knowledge that their homes were guarded by the sturdy pines. However, the antiquated barricade provided little security on March 11th 2011. Lying just 30 miles north of Tohoku earthquake’s 9.0 magnitude epicentre, most of the town was destroyed by the thunderous tsunami, along with most of the curated forest. Just one pine remained, which was named Kiseki no Ippon Matsu (the Miracle Pine Tree). Nevertheless, salt water ate away at the roots and eventually killed this one too.
Spirits of the dead are said to communicate with the Japanese every August at Kyoto’s Okuribi festival. The people of Rikuzentakata sent chopped up blocks of the dead pines with memorials inscribed on them to those killed by the tsunami. However, Kyoto’s authorities rejected them. The wood was tested and small traces of radioactive caesium was found in it. The levels were negligible but it was not worth the risk. Anything associated with Fukushima would be promptly avoided. The people of Rikuzentakata were frustrated but there was nothing they could do. The force of an obstinate and ingrained national neuroses stood between them and their farewell to the fallen.
Japan’s fear of nuclear energy and anything relating to it is indicative of wider contradictions in the society. The country is in many ways hyper modern yet retains archaic customs. The train system is one of the most advanced in the world yet you have to use cash to buy a ticket. The neon-lit streets of Tokyo advertise a highly technologized society, yet electric car production is comparatively low. Outside the big cities you would be hard pressed to find a charging port for your car. The extreme politeness shown to visitors is enough to make even the most heedless tourists feel awkward, yet few are allowed to stay permanently for fear they will dilute the national culture. The Japanese also have an obsession with UN sustainable development goals. In a number of high schools I visited, posters adorned the walls encouraging students to think carefully about how they can help reduce climate change. What better way to achieve this than develop the country’s nuclear energy capacity? A recent report by McKinsey claimed the energy source was the only zero carbon option that works for high temperature industrial processes. But none of this matters much to Japan. The uranium converting plants are to be kept as far way from their shores as possible.
The latest round of hysteria was triggered by the government’s decision to begin releasing water from Fukushima Dachai Plant III into the Pacific Ocean in August. Following two years of work on the site, a task force from the International Atomic Energy Agency said it was safe for Tokyo to release one million tonnes of the treated water over the next 30 to 40 years. An advanced liquid processing system will ensure all radionuclides are removed from the water except tritium, a radioactive isotope of hydrogen. It has a half life of 12 years and as it decays it turns into harmless helium. Most governments say you shouldn’t drink more than 7000 becquerels of tritium per litre of water. No one in Japan is going to drink seawater, but even if they did, the level of radioactive substance in the water would be well below this. Yet the people of Japan are still disturbed by such changes.
After spending some time in Tokyo, I travelled 90 miles south-west to Nagasaka, a small town surrounded by mountains in the Yamanashi prefecture.1 The contrast from the vast metropolis was stark. As far as I observed, Nagasaka only had two restaurants and I couldn’t find a bar. An abandoned karaoke club gathered rust and suggested a youthful presence that had long since passed. The only people under the age of 40 I saw were students walking from the train station to school for summer classes. There were no other visitors or tourists. After spending a week working at his high school, I spoke to Suzuki San, a physics teacher and headmaster. We discussed Japan’s problem being a mountainous island with no natural energy sources. I asked him if he thought nuclear energy could resolve this. ‘The utilization of nuclear energy is effective. However, when considering the risks, it is necessary to balance the maintenance and development of social life with safety. If the Japanese people want slow development, the use of other forms of renewable energy is enough. For example, if we use solar power generation and can accept the generosity of not working on rainy days, there is no need to use nuclear energy.’ Suzuki was reserved and thoughtful, but also strong willed. He had his idea of Japan’s harmonious social fabric, and this was not to be harmed even if it meant sacrificing practical energy production. His opinions were pertinent, reflecting a Japanese willingness to give up efficiency to ensure things are kept the same, like the captain of a boat snubbing a short cut to not risk disturbing his comfortable passengers.
The latest scare was not just limited to the island of Japan, however. It has caused upset in the wider East Asia region. Seafood worth $100 million has been held in Chinese customs and restaurants in Shanghai have stopped serving Sea Bream from Japan’s Shihoku region, replacing it with imported fish from Europe. It is difficult to know if Beijing are genuinely concerned about the safety of the food or whether they are simply using the escapade for geopolitical point scoring to gain the upper hand over an age old rival. After, all the Chinese have not been associated with quality scientific safety regulations in recent times. Sino- Japanese relations have also been particularly prickly. One could argue China taking over Japan as the world’s second largest economy in 2010 has given Japan a form of pecuniary inferiority complex, intensifying insecurity about their own economic stagnation. In an industry which Japan treasures, auto manufacturing, the Chinese have replaced them as the top car exporter this year, a change that analysts thought would take another few years. Beijing could be being priggish over the water treatment issue to confirm their superiority in East Asia.
Regardless of Chinese attitudes, Japanese Prime Minister Fumio Kishida’s approval rating fell to 34.4 per cent in mid July, according to a poll conducted by Kyodo News. 80 per cent of respondents said the governments explanation of the Fukushima waste water was insufficient. After the UN nuclear watchdog approved the plans and it was confirmed that levels of tritium released will be well below internationally approved levels, I am not sure what other affirmation the people of Japan need. Last year, Kushida announced plans to build new nuclear plants on decommissioned sites, a decision that 58 per cent of the public liked. It seemed as if the old fear was finally receding. However, the treated water escapade suggests it may still be some time before the Japanese public see nuclear energy as a desirable option.
Not to be mistaken with Nagasaki, a city destroyed by the atomic bomb dropped on it by the US in August 1945. Nagasaki has since been rebuilt.
An informative read