FUKUSHIMA
MADE IN JAPAN
When I visited Chernobyl for the first
time 7 years ago, I didn’t think that a similar disaster could take
place anywhere ever again, and certainly not in Japan. After all,
nuclear power is safe and the technology is less and less prone to
failure, and therefore a similar disaster cannot happen in the future.
Scientists said this, firms that build nuclear power stations said this,
and the government said this.
But it did happen.
When I was planning my trip to Fukushima
I didn’t know what to expect. There the language, culture, traditions
and customs are different, and what would I find there four years after
the accident? Would it be something similar to Chernobyl?
THE DISASTER
This photographic documentary is not
intended to tell the story of the events surrounding the disaster yet
again. Like the incident that occurred on 26 April 1986, most readers
know the story well. It is worth mentioning one very important aspect,
however, which is an essential issue as we consider the story further.
It is not earthquakes or tsunami that are to blame for the disaster at
the Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power station, but humans. The report
produced by the Japanese parliamentary committee investigating the
disaster leaves no doubt about this. The disaster could have been
forseen and prevented. As in the Chernobyl case, it was a human, not
technology, that was mainly responsible for the disaster.
As will be seen shortly, the two disasters have much more in common.
RADIATION OR EVACUATION
Immediately after the disaster at the
Fukushima power station an area of 3 km, and later 20 km, was designated
from which approximately 160 000 residents were forcibly evacuated.
Chaos, and an inefficient system of monitoring radiation levels,
resulted in many families being divided up or evacuated to places where
the contamination was even greater. In the months and years that
followed, as readings became more precise, the boundaries of the zone
evolved. The zone was divided up according to the level of contamination
and the likelihood that residents would return.
Four years after the accident more than
120 000 people are still not able to return to their homes, and many of
them are still living in temporary accommodation specially built for
them. As with Chernobyl, some residents defied the order to evacuate and
returned to their homes shortly after the disaster. Some never left.
Changes in the boundaries of the zone between the years 2011 and 2015
It is not permitted to go to towns and
cities located in the zone with the highest levels of contamination,
marked in red, except with a special permit. Due to the high level of
radiation (> 50 mSv/y), no repair or decontamination work is carried
out there. According to the authorities’ forecasts the residents of
those towns will not be able to return for a long time, if at all.
The orange zone is less contaminated but
also uninhabitable, but because the level of radiation is less (20-50
mSv/y) clearing up and decontamination work is being done here.
Residents are allowed to visit their homes but are still not allowed to
live in them.
The zone with the lowest level of
radiation (< 20 mSv/y) is the green zone, and decontamination work
has been completed here. Now the clean-up is in its final stages, and
soon the evacuation order is to be lifted.
DECONTAMINATION
When entering the zone, the first thing
that one notices is the huge scale of decontamination work. Twenty
thousand workers are painstakingly cleaning every piece of soil. They
are removing the top, most contaminated layer of soil and putting it
into sacks, to be taken to one of several thousand dump sites. The sacks
are everywhere. They are becoming a permanent part of the Fukushima
landscape.
Dump
sites with sacks of contaminated soil are usually located on arable
land. To save space they are stacked in layers, one on top of the other.
Millions of sacks. Aerial view.
The contamination work does not stop at
removal of contaminated soil. Towns and villages are being cleaned as
well, methodically, street by street and house by house. The walls and
roofs of all the buildings are sprayed and scrubbed. The scale of the
undertaking and the speed of work have to be admired. One can see that
the workers are keen for the cleaning of the houses to be completed and
the residents to return as soon as possible.
One of thousands of dump sites with sacks of radioactive soil
By hand, the roofs of all the buildings are cleaned one by one
What the workers, and in fact the
government financing their work, want to achieve is not necessarily what
the residents themselves want. The contaminated land is not reused, and
doesn’t even leave the zone. It is only transported out of the town
often not beyond the outskirts. This expensive operation is only the
shifting of the problem from one place to another, just so long as it is
outside of the town to which residents are soon to return.
It is still not clear where the
contaminated waste will end up, especially as the residents protest
against long-term dump sites being located near their homes. They are
not willing to sell or lease their land for this purpose. They do not
believe the government’s assurances that in 30 years from now the sacks
containing the radioactive waste will be gone. They are worried that the
radioactive waste will be there forever.
Residential building with a view over one of the waste dumps with radioactive soil
Many areas cannot be decontaminated at
all because of thick forests or because they are mountainous. Only
houses and areas surrounding the houses, and 10-metre strips along the
roads, are decontaminated. This gives rise to the reasonable fear on the
part not only of residents, but also of scientists, that any major
downpour will wash radioactive isotopes out of the mountainous, forest
areas and the inhabited land will become contaminated again. The same is
true of fire, which, helped by the wind, can easily carry radioactive
isotopes into the nearby towns. These fears are not without foundation,
over the last year this has happened at least twice in Chernobyl.
Given the situation, the attitude of the
residents, who are distrustful of the authorities, are worried about
contamination, and do not want to return to their homes, is no surprise.
A survey carried out on former residents of the red zone shows that
only 10% of those polled want to return to their homes, while as many as
65% of evacuees do not intend to go back. In fact, what do they have to
return to? The lack of work, infrastructure, and medical care is an
effective deterrent to returning even for the most optimistic residents,
and with each year that passes this will be more difficult; the
residents get older, like the deserted houses they are not renovating.
Are the towns to remain deserted forever?
There are also reasons for an
unwillingness to return that residents do not like to talk about, and
this is the compensation and the various types of subsidies and tax
relief that evacuees receive. The compensation for the moral wrongdoing
alone, that every evacuee gets, is 100 000 yen (approximately 850
dollars). Some residents have protested, and are even taking legal
action against the government, which intends to stop compensation one
year after a zone (the green and orange zones) is opened. The residents
are scared that the authorities’ actions are an attempt to coerce them
into returning, especially as the government arbitrarily raised the
permitted level of exposure to radiation per year from 1 to 20 mSv.
NO-GO ZONE
The decision not to come to Fukushima
until four years after the disaster is a deliberate one, as most of the
destruction caused by the earthquake and tsunami has been cleared up.
Above all, I would like to focus on the accident at the nuclear power
station and the effects it had on the environment and the evacuated
residents, and compare it to Chernobyl. For this reason, what I would
like to do the most is see the orange zone and the red zone, the most
contaminated and completely deserted. In the latter, no clearing up or
decontamination work is going on. Here time has stood still, as if the
accident happened yesterday.
A separate permit is required for each
of the towns in the red zone, which is issued only to people who have a
legitimate, official reason to go there. No tourists are allowed. Even
journalists are not welcome. The authorities are wary, they enquire
after the reason, the topic being covered, and attitude towards the
disaster. They are worried that journalists will not be accurate and
objective when presenting the topic, but they are most likely scared of
being criticized for their actions.
I try to arrange entry into the no-go
zone while still in Poland. I get help from colleagues, authors of
books, and journalists who write about Fukushima. They recommend their
friends, they recommend their friends, and they recommend their friends.
It is not until I travel to Fukushima and spend two weeks there that I
am able to make contact with the right people. It turns out that the
knowledge I have and the photographs I have taken in my career from
numerous visits to Chernobyl convince these people to help me.
While I am waiting for the permits to be
issued I visit the towns in the orange zone. It takes me two days to
find the house of Naoto Matsumura, a farmer who returned illegally to
the zone, which at that time was still the red zone, not long after the
accident. He returned to take care of the abandoned animals. He gives
the reasons for returning, saying that he could not bear to see whole
herds of cattle wandering aimlessly in the empty streets when their
owners had fled the radiation. He tells of how they were starving to
death or were being killed and used for recycling by the authorities.
What have they done wrong that makes it right to kill them for no reason
– he asks, trying to explain why he returned illegally.
The author and Naoto Matsumura with his animals
Matsumura also takes care of abandoned ostriches
When Matsumura finds out that I visit
Chernobyl regularly, the person asking the questions quickly becomes the
person being asked them. Matsumura is curious about how the evacuation
was carried out in Chernobyl, how decontamination was carried out, and
the level of radiation. He asks specific questions, enters into a
discussion, compares the radiation levels. It is clear that due to the
Fukushima disaster he learnt the professional terminology and terms
relating to the issue. Unfortunately time flies relentlessly and
Matsumura has to get back to his duties. We arrange to meet again in the
autumn.
Naoto Matsumurą in his house
It is still illegal for residents to
return permanently to towns located in the orange zone. They are only
allowed to spend time there in the daytime, but even during the day it
is hard to find any residents here. Most do not want to return, and soon
they won’t have anything to come back to. Many of the deserted houses,
especially the wooden ones, are in such a state of disrepair that soon
it will be not be financially viable to renovate them, and if they are
not renovated they will start to fall down. Maybe this is a conscious
choice on the part of the residents, who allow this to happen because
they have already made up their minds never to return to them?
Young residents or families with
children left Fukushima long ago. In pursuit of a better life, a better
future, they went to Tokyo or other large towns. The older residents,
more attached to the place they have lived for several decades, prefer
to live nearby, in specially built temporary housing. Others went to
relatives, but not for long, so as not to be a burden. They return to
their temporary housing, two tiny rooms and a kitchen in the hall.
Youko
Nozawa takes me to the temporary housing she was moved to after weeks
of moving from place to place during the evacuation. Being invited
inside is quite a privilege and a demonstration of trust for the
Japanese, who value their privacy.
Kouichi Nozawa, Youko’s husband, in a room in temporary housing
Cooking a meal
A week later I have the permit in my
hand and can finally make my way to Namie, one of three towns in the
no-go zone. Although the town is completely deserted, the traffic lights
still work, and the street lamps come on in the evening. Now and again a
police patrol also drives by, stopping at every red light despite the
area being completely empty. They also stop next to our car and check
our permits carefully.
Checkpoint
Off-licence
Abandoned motorcycle
Police patrol
I am accompanied by three Namie
residents who want to show me the houses they were evacuated from. The
earthquake did not do any serious damage to the houses, and being
situated a long way from the ocean they were also not at threat from the
killer tsunami wave. It was only the radioactive cloud that forced
residents to flee.
Yukiko Tajiri showing the house she lived in before the evacuation
Inside the house
In order to see the effects of the
tsunami we go to the coast, where all of the buildings were destroyed.
Although four years have passed, the clean-up is still going on,
although most of the damage has now been cleared up. Behind the
buildings one concrete building stands out, which was capable of
withstanding the destructive force of the tsunami. It is a school, built
using TEPCO money, where the schoolchildren luckily survived by
escaping to the nearby hills.
The
primary school building that survived is situated a mere 300 metres
from the ocean. On the tower, as in all of the classrooms, there are
clocks which stopped at the moment the tsunami came (at the time the
power went off).
Remains of destruction in the aftermath of the tsunami. A photograph from the school’s observation tower.
Abandoned
vehicles. They can’t be removed until the owners give their consent. In
the background the hills to which the schoolchildren escaped.
The music room
School computers
Children’s musical instruments
One
of the classrooms on the first floor in the school. There is still a
mark below the blackboard showing the level of the tsunami wave. On the
blackboard in the classroom are words written by former residents,
schoolchildren and workers in an attempt to keep up the morale of all of
the victims, such as / we will be reborn / we can do it, Fukushima! /
stupid TEPCO / we were rivals in softball, but always united in our
hearts! / We will definitely be back! / Despite everything now is
precisely the beginning of our rebirth / I am proud to have graduated
from the Ukedo primary school / Fukushima is strong / Don’t give up,
live on! / Ukedo primary school, you can do it! / if only we could
return to our life by the sea / it’s been two years now and Ukedo
primary school is the same as it was on 11 March 2011, this is the
beginning of a rebirth./
Medals and other trophies won by children at the school
Gymnasium
Finally we visit Masami Yoshizawa’s
farm, who, like Matsumura, returned to his ranch shortly after the
disaster to take care of the abandoned animals. Yoshizawa’s story is
more interesting, however. Not long after the accident his cows started
to get mysterious white spots on their skin. Yoshizawa suspects that
this is due to the cows eating contaminated grass. He is trying to
publicise the case, he is in contact with the media, and protests in
front of the Japanese parliament, even taking one of his cows.
Unfortunately, apart from financial support and regular testing of the
cows’ blood, there is no one who is willing to finance more extensive
tests.
There are currently approximately 360 cattle on Masami Yoshizawa’s farm. The cracks in the earth were caused by the earthquake.
One of the cows with spots on its skin
Another cow with spots, inside the cowshed
Namie at dusk. Despite the area being totally deserted the traffic lights and streetlamps still work.
Another week of waiting and finally I
receive the permit to go to Futaba, another town in the no-go zone. This
town, which borders the ruined power station, is the town with the
highest level of contamination in the zone. There has not been any
clearing up or decontamination due to the radiation being too high. For
this reason we are also issued with protective clothing, masks, and
dosimeters.
The checkpoint in front of the Fukushima II power station. In the background a building of one of the reactors.
Deserted streets in Futaba
Go-Kart racing track
The town’s close ties with the nearby
power station are not just a question of the short distance between
them. Next to the main road leading to the town centre I come across a
sign across the street, and in fact it is a slogan promoting nuclear
energy, saying „Nuclear energy is the energy of a bright future” – today
it is an ironic reminder of the destructive effects of using nuclear
power. A few hundred metres further on there is a similar sign.
A message of propaganda above one of the main streets of Futaba – „Nuclear energy is the energy of a bright future”
Second message of propaganda – „Local nuclear energy guarantees a lively future”
While I am in Futaba I am accompanied by
a married couple, Mitsuru and Kikuyo Tani (aged 74 and 71), who show me
the house from which they were evacuated. They visit it regularly but
due to the regulations they can do this a maximum of once a month, and
only for a few hours at a time. They take advantage of these
opportunities even though they gave up hope of returning permanently a
long time ago. They check to see if the roof is leaking and whether the
windows have been damaged by the wind or wild animals. If necessary they
make some minor repairs. Their main reason for returning however is
sentimental and the attachment they feel to this place. A yearning for
the place in which they have their origins and spent their entire lives.
Mitsuru Tani in front of the entrance to her house
The guest room
When visiting Futaba, which borders the
damaged nuclear power station Fukushima I, I can’t help but try to
photograph the main culprit of the nuclear disaster, but unfortunately
all of the roads leading to the power station are closed and are heavily
guarded. With a little ingenuity one can see it, however. But first I
go to see a nearby school.
A school in Futaba. A dosimeter showing a radiation level of (2,3 uSv/h)
Musical instruments left behind
Musical instruments left behind
The damaged Fukushima I power station
Dosimeter checkpoint
Our turn
Everything normal
In the vicinity of the red zone I happen
to notice an abandoned car. It is hard to make it out from a distance,
it is almost completely overgrown with green creepers. When I get up
closer I notice that there are more vehicles, neatly organised in
several rows. I guess that the cars became contaminated and then were
abandoned by the residents. A moment later the beep of the dosimeter
confirms this.
One of the abandoned cars
One of the abandoned cars
Abandoned cars
The current radiation level reading (6,7 uSv/h)
Site where vehicles have been dumped. Aerial photograph.
Site where vehicles have been dumped. Aerial photograph.
INTERIORS
While I am in the zone I devote a lot of
time and attention to taking photographs of the interiors. Photographs
of this kind give a very good illustration of the human and highly
personal dimension of the tragedy. They also make us aware of what the
residents of Fukushima lost and the very short time they had for the
evacuation. When taking photographs of the interiors of the buildings
the similarities to Chernobyl are even more striking, although in
Chernobyl, after almost 30 years since the disaster and thousands of
tourists visiting it, it is hard to find any untouched objects. One time
a teddy bear is lying completely covered with gasmasks, and a month
later it is next to the window, put there so that a tourist could take a
photograph in better light. These are things that were staged
subsequent to the incident. In Fukushima, the disaster remains seared
into the memories of residents, the evacuation order still in force, and
the total lack of tourists mean that everything is in the same place as
it was four years ago. Toys, electronic devices, musical instruments,
and even money, have been left behind. Only a tragedy on this scale can
produce such depressing scenes.
Restaurant
Restaurant
KFC
Mc Donald’s
Gaming saloon
Gaming saloon
Cash desk in a gaming saloon
Off-licence
Off-licence
Hairdresser’s
Room
Room
Children’s bedroom
Supermarket
Supermarket
Supermarket
Supermarket
Shop selling CDs
Chemist’s
I came to Fukushima as a photographer
and a filmmaker, trying above all to put together a story using
pictures. I was convinced that seeing the effects of the disaster with
my own eyes would mean I could assess the effects of the power station
failure and understand the scale of the tragedy, especially the tragedy
of the evacuated residents, in a better way. This was a way of drawing
my own conclusions without being influenced by any media sensation,
government propaganda, or nuclear lobbyists who are trying to play down
the effects of the disaster, and pass on the information obtained to as
wider a public as possible.
This was only the first trip, I am
coming back to Fukushima in the autumn, and there is nothing to suggest
that I will stop in the near future. This should not be understood as a
farewell to Chernobyl, I will be visiting both places regularly.
Seven years ago I ended my first documentary on Chernobyl with these words:
„An immense experience, not comparable
to anything else. Silence, lack of cries, laughter, tears and only the
wind answers. Prypiat is a huge lesson for our generation.”
Have we learnt anything since then?
Leaving the zone
P.S. If
you are a photographer or a filmmaker and you would like to join me on
my next trip to Fukushima or Chernobyl, please write a few words about
yourself and send them to this address: arek (at) podniesinski (dot)pl.
P.S. 2 If
you would like to be up to date or see photographs which have not been
published, follow me on Facebook or add me as a friend. Some posts can
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