Features

by Yasushi Morita, Staff Writer


Prior to the accident at the Fukushima No. 1 (Daiichi) nuclear power plant, author Randy Taguchi would feel a sense of distance from the people around her when she voiced concerns about nuclear power. “So you’re against nuclear energy,” they would say. Recalling that time, she said, “Back then there was an atmosphere that made people reluctant to talk about their anti-nuclear sentiments, even when they felt Japan didn’t need nuclear power plants. I wondered why that was the case. That question prompted me to start thinking about our history involving nuclear energy.”


Ms. Taguchi posed the question: “Why has Japan become a champion of nuclear energy, despite being well aware of the horror that nuclear weapons can unleash?” For the next 12 years she gathered information on the atomic bombings and nuclear energy. Then, last September she published the book “Hiroshima, Nagasaki and Fukushima,” a synthesis of what she learned during her research.

Ms. Taguchi pursued the question for many years. As she read historical documents, she encountered an unexpected fact. Japan’s peaceful use of nuclear power began in 1955, just one year after the Japanese fishing vessel “Daigo Fukuryu Maru” (“The Lucky Dragon No. 5”) was exposed to radioactive fallout as a result of a U.S. hydrogen bomb test conducted on the Bikini Atoll in the Marshall Islands. Amid the fury roused by a nationwide movement expressing opposition to atomic and hydrogen bombs, a U.S. delegation came calling and encouraged Japanese leaders to pursue the peaceful use of nuclear power.

Japan, which understands the horror of nuclear weapons firsthand, could have rejected this overture. But Ms. Taguchi found that the Japanese government, via the media, disseminated the idea that nuclear energy would bring a bright future to the nation. At the same time, they branded those who opposed this vision as “anti-American” or “socialists,” warning that such dissent would hamper the nation’s pursuit of progress.

Reacting against this suppression by the government, the anti-nuclear movement pushed back and became more extreme. Ms. Taguchi suspects that “a situation developed where the general public found it hard to join the movement.” Meanwhile, the government’s manipulation of public opinion produced the “safety myth” of nuclear energy. “To introduce nuclear energy into Japan, it had to be seen as safe,” she explained. People were told ‘nuclear power is clean and safe and there’s no need to double-check the risk.’ It produced a situation in which our minds were numb to the danger.”

Ms. Taguchi first became involved in the nuclear issue in 1999 in the wake of the criticality accident at the nuclear plant in Tokaimura, Ibaraki Prefecture. In 2000, a TV station in Hiroshima asked her to take part in a program about the atomic bombing.

For the next five years she paid visits to Hiroshima every Augusut 6, the anniversary of the bombing, and listened to the accounts of A-bomb survivors. But it took time for her research to bear fruit in the form of a book. Appraising her own collection of short stories entitled “Hibaku no Maria,” published in 2006, she said, “It’s like I wrote about how I was unable to write about Hiroshima’s experience of the atomic bombing.”

Meanwhile, she said she felt frustrated, wondering why Japan did not assert more strongly that the use of such weapons in unannounced and indiscriminate attacks is a breach of human ethics, even in a time of war. She believes that a similar atmosphere was created when it came to nuclear energy. While peace and safety are recognized as the highest good, people were nevertheless forced to withhold their questions involving the ethics of this form of power.


Ms. Taguchi suggests that “People on both sides of the issue must be involved in more discussion.” If they don’t engage in dialogue, she says, and simply continue to champion their own cause and attack the other side, the situation will only be exploited for political ends. She sees a recurrence of this pattern in the nation’s history and urges the Japanese people to engage in more cool and rational debate.

Starting in the fall of 2010, Ms. Taguchi launched the “Dialogue Study Club,” a forum where experts and the public can come together for discussions through the use of state-of-the-art technology. The initiative, which is held every two months at Meiji University in downtown Tokyo, is the embodiment of her ideas on fostering dialogue. She was in the process of inviting people on both sides of the nuclear energy debate to gather for a calm discussion on the issue when eastern Japan was struck by the disaster of March 11, 2011.

“I believe the public no longer wants the nation to rely on nuclear energy,” she said. “But at the same time we have to confront the reality of radioactive contamination head on. It’s vital that we have the human resources to effectively decommission the nation’s nuclear reactors over the decades of time that will be needed. It isn’t enough, and it could invite further dangers, to simply denounce the use of nuclear energy.”

At a gathering held in late February, the participants were immersed in their discussion involving nuclear power. “I would like to provide opportunities for people to consider issues that have no easy answers,” Ms. Taguchi said.

We must have the sort of strength that can’t be exploited by others, she says. Ms. Taguchi now sees a kinship in the experiences of radiation exposure suffered by Hiroshima, Nagasaki, and Fukushima.

Profile

Randy Taguchi
Born in Tokyo. Her first novel “Konsento” (“Outlet”) was published in 2000. Many of her works involve issues of the heart and spirit. After the disaster of March 11, she took part in an effort which provided “open-air” schooling to children from Fukushima Prefecture as a means of easing their stress.

(Originally published on March 7, 2012)