Meet the slow death in your comfort zone

I stumbled onto the speech by Gregory Jaczko, the former head of the Nuclear Regulatory Commission, on Fukushima nuclear disaster.

(Watch from 50:00 and on for Jaczko’s speech)

He talks about the recent visit he made to Japan…the children still playing around hotspots, the desperate amount of ongoing leakage, the inadequate level of government/TEPCO effort which puts the word “inadequate” to shame…

I watched his voice, his body reaction, his every existence trembling with emotion. At the same time I observed his strong will and self-control. But here, his two contradicting urges, emotion and restriction, were wrangling along the same axis in stead of dragging each other down, pushing him to a higher presence. I don’t know what he had done as an almightly chairman. But yet as a “nobody,” he was a man on a mission, driven internally, destined to move on externally.

His talks reveal many aspects and truths on the ongoing crisis, which I shall leave to you to discover. Me—what stunned me most was his determination, his internal force that came across the monitor and infected me. I wondered what he saw in Fukushima (in determination).

Next day a good friend of mine told me about the documentary she saw: A2-B-C, a record on decontamination cover-up in Fukushima and how it is affecting the young people, even babies.

(Be careful, just watching the trailer is enough to ruin your day in rage. Or should I say “Fxxk you very much!” to remain in the present in peace?)

While we are discussing endlessly on the viability of nuclear power and the possibility of widespread contamination, there are people already living in slow cooker hell, being fed every imaginable propaganda by inhumane people whose only concern is cost cutting and pension. Kids and families in Fukushima not only lack fund to move out of their eternally contaminated land. They are also robbed of incentives, the survival instinct, by others—and dare I say even by themselves—in order to keep things “under control,” putting a lid on information.

This morning I stumbled onto an immensely popular Japanese website, There is a collection of interviews with high school students in Fukushima, two years after the incident.

In unison, they vow to “reconstruct” Fukushima into its original state. They write up how they want to work “all for one, one for all” in order to continue to study and live in Fukushima to keep it “alive.” The school principal proudly represents the kids’ vows all over the school, responding to the interview in full smile.

A student answers the question: Aren’t you angry at the government and TEPCO? “I used to. But what is the point in keep getting angry at something that already happened?” He also says “Although my parents oppose adamantly, I want to go back to our old house (which is within 10km from the failed power plant) and live there again.”

What the heck is going on? I don’t think that student is telling lies. He probably is, honestly willing to offer himself for a desperate “rebuilding” project, which makes the government and companies too happy and allow them to keep saving their precious money by cutting safety measures.

No matter how we “beautify” the students’ intention, there is little doubt that the longer they stay in Fukushima, the more health risk they carry, especially in the current situation. They are sacrificing their lives under the the name of “volunteer” activities. And that is the view of Fukushima represented in one of the most popular websites in Japan. Is this a mass propaganda or self-induced hallucination?

What is stunning is the difference between how we see the incident from outside and how it is seen inside, at least on the media perspective.

Few people can carry their rage for long. Most people adapt to their new reality as time goes by, and even start to support it as that student has shown. The Japanese government and TEPCO know this effect and using it to full extent. Those guys know that time can cover up almost anything. Intellectuals, as evidenced in, are just happy to jump on the bandwagon, chasing the next “that thing,” even if there is a death sign.

Kiddo, the only hope is out. I wish I can show it to you. No, that’s not right—what can I do? NOW?