2023-07-17 03:16:34
image copyrightGetty Images
Caption,
Four times a year, Kimura and his team of volunteers collect fish samples from the waters surrounding the Fukushima plant.
Article informationAuthor, Shaimaa KhalilRole, BBC Tokyo Correspondent
2 hours
Wearing a white coat and gloves, Ai Kimura is cutting up a sample of fish at the Tarachine laboratory, regarding an hour’s drive from the now-crippled Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant on Japan’s east coast.
Four times a year, Kimura and his team of volunteers collect fish samples from the waters surrounding the plant.
They have been doing this since the lab was founded in 2011, just months following a devastating tsunami flooded the reactors, causing a radiation leak.
But Kimura is no scientist, and neither are the women who run this non-profit lab, whose name Tarachine is derived from the Old Japanese word for “mother.”
Shocked following the tsunami, Kimura says the locals set up the lab to find out what was safe to feed their children, because it was hard to get information regarding radiation risks.
So they asked technical experts to train them on how to test for radioactive substances and record the readings, raised funds, and began learning.
It was the decision of a shattered community that never thought a nuclear power plant accident was possible.
Now, 12 years later, they once more find themselves struggling to trust the Japanese government, as it insists it is safe to release treated radioactive water from the plant into the Pacific Ocean.
Earlier this month, Japan was given the green light to start pumping out more than a million tons, regarding the same volume as 500 Olympic-sized swimming pools, of the treated water used to cool melted reactors.
It accumulated in over a thousand tanks and now as they top out you have to get it out somewhere.
Japan’s nuclear regulator has given the green light to Tokyo Electric Power Company Holdings (Tepco), which manages the plant.
The head of the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), Rafael Grossi, said the watchdog’s two-year review found the plan meets international standards and that the treated water will have “negligible radiological impact on people and environment”.
Neighboring South Korea also gave a similar assessment, despite maintaining an import ban on some Japanese foods.
China and Hong Kong announced similar bans.
But those who live in and around Fukushima are not convinced.
image copyrightJIRO AKIBA/BBC
Caption,
Tarachine volunteers collect samples from the sea around the Fukushima plant.
“We still don’t know to what extent the contaminated water has been treated. That’s why we oppose the release,” says Kimura, adding that many local families are concerned regarding the discharge of the treated water.
Tepco has been filtering the water to remove more than 60 radioactive substances, but the water will not be completely free of radiation.
It will contain tritium and carbon-14, radioactive isotopes of hydrogen and carbon respectively that cannot be easily removed from water.
But experts say they are not dangerous unless eaten in large quantities because they emit very low levels of radiation.
This is also why, before the filtered water is released, it will go through another treatment phase where it is diluted with seawater to reduce the concentrations of the remaining substances.
Japan’s government has said that at the end of the filtration and testing process, the treated water will be no different from the water released by nuclear plants around the world.
“The Invisible Enemy”
The decision to release these waters is faced with fear in Fukushima, where the memory of the “invisible enemy” – as many here call radiation – is constant.
After the disaster, the government declared a 30-kilometre exclusion zone around the plant and evacuated more than 150,000 people. Although many things have changed, entire neighborhoods remain empty and vegetation covers the roofs and windows of long-abandoned houses.
The shop window signs have faded, but metal barriers and yellow tape warning people to stay away remain on the narrow, deserted streets.
Even the Taráchine laboratory is proof of how much the community fears the “invisible enemy”, despite guarantees that it will not return.
image copyrightJIRO AKIBA/BBC
Caption,
Ai Kimura studies radiation samples in the Tarachine laboratory.
In the main lab, a volunteer cuts cabbage before eating it to measure gamma radiation, and another treats the water before testing the sample.
In the hallway there are bags of dirt and dust from vacuum cleaners that were used in nearby houses.
In the back of the room, food samples are left to dry before being tested for radiation.
On the walls are charts and maps of the nuclear plant and the sea around it, with markings in various colors to show the degree of radiation and the distance it traveled.
The women collect samples, but they also analyze the material sent to them by the local population. “Some families brought us acorns [para examinar]Kimura says.
“In Japan we make tops out of acorns with toothpicks. The government wouldn’t think of checking that. Some mothers asked us to measure the radiation levels in their local park.”
The lab measures all kinds of samples of radioactive substances like strontium-90, tritium, and cesium-134 and 137, and keeps track of their levels over the years.
“We upload all of our finds to our website so anyone can find them,” explains Kimura.
“We have been able to confirm that the radioactive substances have gradually decreased in the food we measured. If they release the water, you are ultimately undoing the power of nature that brought it to this level.”
Kimura sees the controversial plan as a big step backwards. He says there are still “lingering emotional wounds” from the 2011 disaster and this decision is reopening them.
The plan, in the works for two years, is a necessary step in the lengthy and expensive cleanup, experts say.
For the plant to be decommissioned, the radioactive waste inside the molten reactors must be removed. And to do so, they must first discharge the water that has been used to cool the reactors since the tsunami paralyzed the plant in 2011.
image copyrightJIRO AKIBA/BBC
Caption,
Treated radioactive water is stored in more than 1,000 tanks.
One of Tepco’s bosses, Ákira Ono, told the Associated Press in March that they are only now beginning to fully understand the damage inside the reactors.
He added that the most pressing task is to start safely releasing the water to clear the area around the plant and that they must make room for more water because the melted waste needs to be completely cooled.
“The real problem is not the actual physical effect of radiation. It is our fear,” says molecular pathology expert Gerry Thomas, who worked with Japanese scientists on radiation research and also advised the IAEA.
Thomas says the science was lost fighting with nuclear activists soon following the disaster, and to reassure a shocked and terrified population, the government went to great lengths to show that it was taking all necessary precautions.
“Politicians are trying to show that they’re cautious and, you know, they’re looking out for everyone. But really, the message people are getting is, ‘Well, this must be very, very dangerous.'”
The long arm of fear
Now the fear, and the lack of confidence, are proving difficult to shake off.
Worse yet, it is also affecting livelihoods.
Fishermen say that dumping the treated water will tarnish the image of their products, driving down prices and cutting into already struggling businesses.
They say the industry here has never fully recovered since the disaster and is still dependent on government subsidies.
Inside the nuclear plant, Tepco official Kazuo Yamánaka points out two fish tanks: one where the flatfish swim in regular seawater and another where they are in water with the same radiation levels as that which will be pumped into the ocean.
He claims that the fish are closely monitored and that there is an increase in tritium levels within them at first, but then it levels off and the fish remove it from their system once they return to standard seawater.
“I am a radiation expert, so I know that tritium has very little effect on the human body and living organisms,” he said. “We are all concerned regarding the same thing, radiation, and that is why we are so anxious. I hope these data and images help reassure people a bit.”
Toru Takáhashi, whose family has been fishing for three generations, is far from calm: “We are once morest it. We are already seeing the negative effects. We have seen companies saying they will not buy Fukushima products.”
image copyrightJIRO AKIBA/BBC
Caption,
Toru Takáhashi (left) says fear has already hurt business.
For him, this is personal. Giving up the family business is not an option, he says as he oversees port staff unloading buckets of fish to be washed and prepared for market.
He says it’s a fraction of the business they had before the 2011 disaster: “We’re still at 300 million yen [al año, unos US$2,2 millones], including all small ships. Before, we made around 700 million yen [US$5 millones]”.
He fears it will get worse once the water is released, given import bans already announced by China and South Korea.
Asked if proven science is enough to overcome these concerns, Yamánaka admitted that they cannot control reputation no matter how much they decorate it, adding: “We believe that our efforts will one day bury these discussions.”
“I know we have lost people’s trust; it will take time to get it back.”
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