- Edward Teller, father of the hydrogen bomb
In
previous posts I’ve argued that the eyewitness testimony of radiation victims provides
some of the most reliable data to make judgments about the hazards posed by the
present disaster at Fukushima Daiichi. Subjective accounts are often dismissed
as being anecdotal, but in an age when hard data gets cherry-picked, filtered
and turned toward any desired interpretation, it starts to make more sense to
listen to the common message that comes out of thousands of historical
eye-witness accounts that get offensively dismissed as "anecdotal."
Today,
Japan’s Mainichi News (2012/02/21) carried a story
about Matashichi Oishi, the last surviving member of the crew of the Lucky
Dragon #5 (Daigo Fukuryu Maru)
which was caught in the fallout of the American Castle Bravo hydrogen bomb test
held in 1954 near the Bikini Atoll.
Mr. Oishi
describes how he was covered in ash and pulverized coral from the
explosion, receiving a dose that was estimated later to be 2,000 to 3,000
millisieverts. To put this in perspective, keep in mind that the annual
permitted dose for children in Japan was raised after the Fukushima accident from
1 millisievert per year to 20, which is 1/100th of the amount Oishi received in
a single incident. Nonetheless, no one knows how Oishi’s experience will
compare with the experience of a child born this year in Fukushima.
In
addition to the hard science, the social science revealed by Mr. Oishi’s
experience is perhaps the most valuable lesson to take from his life story. When
news of the incident escaped the veil of nuclear secrecy, the reactions of the
American and Japanese authorities, followed by the treatment by Japanese
society, prove once again that radiation victims are assaulted twice – once in
the initial exposure, then again in their pursuit of justice.
The
head of the US Atomic Energy Commission, Lewis Strauss, at first denied the
fallout that landed on the Lucky Dragon #5 was radioactive, then he accused the
crew of being a “red spy outfit.” Even though they told the Japanese that the
ship was not contaminated, the US government quickly banned imports of tuna
from Japan. The incident soon grew into a diplomatic nightmare, as it was the
second time in less than a decade that Americans had victimized Japanese
citizens with atomic weapons. As a nascent Japanese anti-nuclear movement
became mobilized by the affair, the pro-American LDP government and the US
government came to an agreement about how to arrange an "ex-gratia" settlement (one that gives condolence but does not admit guilt). The US paid
$2 million dollars to the Japanese government, little of which was received by
the victims. The ship’s captain died of acute radiation sickness soon after the
incident, and his widow received $2,500. Mr. Oishi received a settlement of 2
million yen (about $25,000 at today’s exchange rate).
After
the Lucky Dragon incident, the Japanese government established the National
Institute of Radiological Sciences, which Mr. Oishi visited from 1957-1992. He
said he stopped going when he became dissatisfied with their attention to his case.
“My liver cancer was
detected at a different hospital,” he said, “I began to feel that for the National
Institute of Radiological Sciences, we were merely research subjects [as opposed to patients]. Based on what I’ve seen and heard about the slow response of the
national government to the plight of people in Fukushima, I get the impression
that things haven’t changed. Unless we try to learn from the lessons of past
radiation victims, I’m afraid that our painful experiences will be repeated.”
Mr. Oishi outlived all of his crew mates, most of whom died in
middle age, but he has had numerous health problems and says he has stayed
alive only because of the numerous medical interventions he has had. He takes
30 kinds of drugs each day, and has the same health problems described by the
Chernobyl liquidators and other Chernobyl victims, as well as other victims of
weapons fallout: cataracts, arrhythmia, angina, asthma, liver cancer,
infections, and a lung tumor. Various governments and UN bodies deny that these
symptoms are the effects of radiation exposure, and the Japanese government has been no different. Mr. Oishi was never recognized, like the victims of Hiroshima and
Nagasaki, as officially a radiation victim. He received only the same health
benefits as any other Japanese citizen.
Someone might be tempted to hold Mr. Oishi
up as an example of how little harm radiation does, saying, “Think of the
amount of radiation he received, and look, at 78, he’s still alive!” This way
of thinking about radiation’s effects counts only the deaths, as seen in the
optimistic reporting about Chernobyl that claims only a few deaths were ever confirmed
as directly related to Chernobyl.
Leaving
aside the emotional pain of the bereaved, another way to look at it is to say
the deaths are the least of our concerns. The dead are gone and there is
nothing more we can do for them. The thing we should be concerned about is the
impact on the living – not that lives were ended but that they were filled with
suffering and shortened. Mr. Oishi’s tale speaks to this point. What society
would tolerate, on a moral level, this suffering for the sake of energy and
security, and what society could afford the treatment for the victims of a
large nuclear accident? But in fairness to nuclear advocates, we have to admit
that this question applies to all forms of energy. The byproducts of fossil
fuel burning also shorten millions of lives, a fact
which millions of modernized and prosperous Chinese citizens are now painfully aware
of.
The current Japanese government has
reluctantly announced plans
to make lump sum payments to evacuees of the Fukushima crisis so that they
can get on with their lives, and this seems sensible and overdue to outside
observers, but Mr. Oishi’s experience reveals something that may be a peculiar Japanese
phenomenon. The government is perhaps aware that if they are helped to resettle elsewhere, victims of radiation will
suffer not only discrimination, but
also envy and resentment. It is not always easy to predict their future and conclude
whether they will be better off leaving or staying. Mr. Oishi experienced
discrimination toward himself and his daughters for having an irradiated
bloodline, but he was also resented for his “lucky” windfall compensation
payment. The little reported aspect of the Lucky Dragon incident is that the wide-scale testing that Japanese scientists did in the following months revealed that hundreds of fishing boat crews were affected, as was the entire catch of fish from the South Pacific. Fallout was detected on produce and in rainfall over Japan. It was the first time that fallout data had been made known to the general public, and this incident is seen now as the beginning of the end of atmospheric testing.
Because so many fishermen had also been affected, they resented that only the Lucky Dragon crew received compensation and attention. Otherwise, Mr. Oishi grew annoyed that friends and relatives pestered him to co-sign for loans, so he left his small town for the anonymity of Tokyo. But since the 1990s, and more so since the Fukushima crisis, Mr. Oishi has chosen to step out of his anonymity and speak publicly to honor the memory of his deceased crew members, and all radiation victims. He feels that what he has to say no is no longer just “someone else’s pitiful story.” He added, “What are we going to do about radiation, and about nuclear power? We can’t leave it up to the leaders who don’t want to lose in international competition, because they will resist seeing the health effects of radiation exposure as significant. The public must think this through with raised awareness, or this problem will remain unresolved forever.”
Because so many fishermen had also been affected, they resented that only the Lucky Dragon crew received compensation and attention. Otherwise, Mr. Oishi grew annoyed that friends and relatives pestered him to co-sign for loans, so he left his small town for the anonymity of Tokyo. But since the 1990s, and more so since the Fukushima crisis, Mr. Oishi has chosen to step out of his anonymity and speak publicly to honor the memory of his deceased crew members, and all radiation victims. He feels that what he has to say no is no longer just “someone else’s pitiful story.” He added, “What are we going to do about radiation, and about nuclear power? We can’t leave it up to the leaders who don’t want to lose in international competition, because they will resist seeing the health effects of radiation exposure as significant. The public must think this through with raised awareness, or this problem will remain unresolved forever.”
What is most significant is that Mr. Oishi
is also speaking for millions of victims like himself whose suffering has been dismissed,
or at best, neglected for decades. The American government later admitted that
hundreds of fishing boats were hit with fallout from the Castle Bravo test. The
bomb yield was larger than expected, and the wind also blew in an unexpected
direction. The Lucky Dragon was exceptional in that it got back to a country with a
sufficiently vital media and political culture that could turn its story into
an international incident.
In addition to the
fishing boats affected by this one bomb test, the natives of the South Pacific
Islands were affected by numerous British, French and American tests, not to mention the
military personnel from these countries. There were victims of Soviet bomb tests
in Kazakhstan, British bomb tests in Australia, Chinese bomb tests along the
Silk Road, and victims of various nuclear reactor accidents, some large and
famous, some small and little known. Finally, there are the uranium miners, and
nuclear workers who lost their health doing nuclear fuel processing for bombs
and power generation. Resolution
275, a US Senate resolution designating October 30, 2011, as a national day
of remembrance (that almost no one remembers or even knows about because it went
largely unreported) for nuclear weapons program workers who were “left with debilitating
illness that far too often led to their premature deaths,” according to
Senator Harry Reid.
Mr. Oishi’s final judgment of the Japanese National Institute of Radiological
Sciences is worth reflecting on as we wonder exactly what the Japanese
government is doing to help Fukushima Prefecture. The government has promised
to establish the best program to monitor the health of citizens for the coming
decades, and since government officials deny there is a risk, the purpose of
such an expensive program could only be to make a show of responsiveness and to
prove a desired conclusion. This is what they do instead of helping people move
away to safer locations.
One can’t
help but think that the plan is to repeat the process of the official UN research
on Chernobyl. The government will control who can do the research, and then the
research parameters, data selection and final interpretations will be massaged
to yield the foregone conclusions that confirm the safety of nuclear energy. In
the end, the people will feel as Mr. Oishi did, as research subjects rather
than as patients, unless we follow his warning: “think this through with raised
awareness, or this problem will remain unresolved forever.”
Other Sources:
Oishi, Masashichi. The
Day the Sun Rose in the West: Bikini, The Lucky Dragon and I. University of
Hawaii Press. 2011
Kyodo News. Scientist immediately sought details from U.S. on 1954 Bikini H-bomb test. January 11, 2012.
Hoffman, Michael. Forgotten Atrocity of the Atomic Age. The Japan Times. August 28, 2011.
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