Fukushima - 9 Years Later: Deep Wisdom of the Heart
/Deep Wisdom of the Heart
A Personal Essay by Chiho Kaneko, Member, Board of Directors Fairewinds Energy Education
I have never experienced so many people wearing protective masks on the Shinkansen high-speed train, as I did at the end of January 2020, when I traveled from northern Japan to the airport in Tokyo. The news of the coronavirus outbreak was just starting to dominate the media.
How ironic, I thought to myself, that now I could wear a mask without feeling guilty, unlike all the times when I have traveled to Fukushima in the years since the meltdowns.
It’s been more than nine years since March 2011 and the devastating Tohoku [Great East] Earthquake, simultaneous tsunami, and subsequent meltdown of three nuclear power plants at the Fukushima Atomic Power site in Japan.
Scrape the ground, push, mound, and level.
Build, build, and build. Build new buildings, seawalls, and highways.
Build temporary incinerators, dozens of them, and burn, burn, and burn.
Burn the tsunami debris.
Burn the bales of hay and shiitake logs contaminated with cesium.
Burn organic waste created by the government "decontamination" initiatives.
Then, before you know it, dismantle those temporary incinerators!
Now build new biomass power plants!
Use the trees clear-cut on hillsides where nuclear fallout has settled!
All the while,
heavy equipment and trucks crisscross,
kicking up toxic dust and burning up fossil fuels.
Is this what has to happen for us to rebuild this region so devastated by the massive earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear reactor meltdowns?
This is what is happening in Japan.
The triple-layered earthquake-tsunami-nuclear disasters have helped to secure a tremendous amount of public funding as well as great sympathy to reconstruct public places to make communities appear healthy.
Yet, without any accountability for how those relief funds are used, I fear that much of that money did not help those who needed it most. Instead, it seems that a lot of funds were squandered.
And the culpability for the nuclear disaster has been buried in the rubble and the ashes, too.
Yet, each one of us knows, deep inside us, that there is a fundamental difference between a natural disaster and a nuclear disaster:
With a nuclear disaster, finding peace and healing in our hearts is a lot harder.
Now, nine years after the most life-altering event of my life, I find myself with more questions than answers.
Over and over, I ask myself,
o What is true recovery?
o Who gets to shape the vision of a nation?
o Does economic recovery override any other aspects of a society?
o What is economic recovery, anyway?
o Is the health of its citizens not essential for a nation to thrive?
o Why does the government regard the victims -- the citizens who chose to flee their radiation-contaminated hometowns -- as inconvenient and unhelpful deserters?
o Is the government afraid of having to pay for remediation?
o What is ‘the government’ anyway?
Human history teems with injustices perpetrated on certain groups of people. Perhaps it's unrealistic to hope that each group of wronged people gets adequately remediated. At least, we can and must acknowledge our mistakes and learn from them so that the future generations don't suffer as much.
Last year, I visited the Fukushima Prefectural Centre for Environmental Creation, a nuclear education and research center that opened its door in 2016. Nearly $200 million have been spent to construct and operate this center. The occupants of the center include the IAEA [International Atomic Energy Association, which claims to both regulate and promote atomic power], as well as a science-museum-like Commutan Fukushima. The Fukushima government's official website in English describes it like this:
"We have to quickly restore environment in Fukushima to create environment where citizens can live with peace of mind over the future. For that, we are conducting detailed environmental monitoring, research and information release as well as taking measures to help children learn about environment and radiation at the Information and Communication building, Commutan Fukushima."
The "Commutan" is a nickname of sorts, personified by a cute cartoon character; the name reminds me of the way toddlers speak. Perhaps this is intentional so that its light-hearted futuristic image is appealing and accessible to children. But then I wonder, what is this well-funded educational facility trying to teach? The interactive displays on characteristics of radiation, for instance, and many other games that children can participate in, may be entertaining. The messages left by the visitors displayed on a large monitor reflect that: "This was so much fun." "It was the best." "I will be back." "Mission cleared." "I learned things in Fukushima are not as bad as I had thought."
I should mention that there is a corner dedicated to the Fukushima Dai-ichi Nuclear Power Station disaster, with a scale model of four reactors after meltdowns. But for the most part, this section seems to symbolize the past. At this family-orientated live museum, I did not get any sense that the present situation in and around the Fukushima Dai-ichi radioactive site is even considered to be very dangerous and precarious (e.g., as of January 2020, still, no human being can access the top floor of the reactor #2 due to the high level of radiation). Instead of telling the truth, Commutan Fukushima encourages us to look for a future that is filled with hope and confidence in the technology of nuclear power. And, it also encourages us to visit Fukushima, to help the "recovery" as tourists and settlers.
Yes, we all need hope for our survival, but true hope can only be wrought out of honest self-reflection. In order to truly heal, the whole that surrounds the wound has to be healthy. If this whole is our society, then that vision for our society must be sound first and foremost.
What is our vision for our collective survival? What is your vision for our collective survival?
Our suffering will not be eased by giving priorities to the economy and technology without having compassion for each real life.
Afterword, by Maggie Gundersen
Special thanks to Chiho Kaneko, a member of the Fairewinds Energy Board of Directors, for writing such a poignant and heartfelt essay. When I first read it, I cried.
At least twice each year, Fairewinds Energy Education Board Member Chiho Kaneko travels to Japan to visit with her mother, family members, and friends. Ms. Kaneko lives in Hartland, Vermont, where she is a talented artist, musician, and vocal soloist. We first met in 2011 during the aftermath of meltdowns at Fukushima Dai-ichi. Through all of Arnie’s and my work with Fairewinds in Japan, Ms. Kaneko’s insight and support have enabled us to reach so many more people around the world. Thank you, Chiho Kaneko, for lending heart and soul to Fairewinds educational and research ventures and to our efforts to reach out to others around the world since the Fukushima triple meltdowns brought us to another precipice.
Pandemic 2020 has certainly made this year a very different one than any of us at Fairewinds had imagined, which is why we are trying to take this opportunity to share our personal essays as they emerge in our private lives. Arnie and I, for example, faced a significant number of personal changes and health issues during the second half of 2018 and throughout 2019. We both had looked forward to 2020 with anticipation of a new year that would be a ‘breath of fresh air’! Who knew that instead of: quiet walks on the beach, time in our garden, dining out with friends, and travel to visit loved ones, – all of which we had envisioned – we instead found ourselves facing new physical challenges, like Arnie’s case of shingles, amid Pandemic 2020.
Fairewinds scientific research on severe issues, (like the migration of radioactive microparticles at sites all over the world and our interaction with people stranded in radioactively contaminated communities), is technically challenging and emotionally draining. We feel blessedly lucky to have the strong support of our Board of Directors, dear friends, a loving family, and amazingly supportive colleagues, all of whom encourage our efforts. These folks know what we do, and how and why we do it when instead of our endeavors, we could simply kick back to hang around a swimming pool sipping cocktails, go hiking, or play some tennis or a few rounds of golf.
Everyone we work with and share our lives with internally and externally has been deeply impacted by the past year with Pandemic 2020 and the devastating expansion of explosive atomic power, new nuclear weapons, and the tragic release of importantly stringent radiation regulations. For those reasons, we will continue to share our insights, emotional growth, and daily challenges of ‘Living in the Time of Pandemic 2020’. Therefore, the Fairewinds Crew, including our board members and some of our scientific colleagues and advisors, will continue to weave personal essays into our Demystifying Nuclear Power Blog.
Today, we shared this heartfelt personal blog post by Chiho Kaneko with you – our Fairewinds community. We are so thankful that you join us in our efforts to love our planet in the midst of a climate emergency, the devastating and ongoing spread of radioactivity in the food we eat, the water we drink, and the very air we breathe, on top of the second-worst health pandemic this world has ever faced (right after the Bubonic Plague in the 14th century).
Thank you for sharing this process with us. Fairewinds will keep you informed!
Fukushima Olympic Makeover: Will the 'cursed' area be safe from radioactivity in time?
Originally posted by France 24 TV
In the video posted above, French journalists examine what life is like in the areas surrounding the site of the 2011 Fukushima Daichi nuclear disaster. Despite the upcoming 2021 Tokyo Olympics, Fukushima Prefecture is still plagued by the threat of significant radioactivity, and the people that once lived and thrived there are still unable to return home. We feel that this newly released video from France 24 TV encompasses what Chiho is saying in her personal essay as well as the human perspective as it pertains to the suffering of those who experienced the disaster firsthand and still live with its radioactive hazards every day. We hope you will be able take the time to watch this film and are able come away as changed as we are.
