Osaka Mayor Hashimoto's Boldness

Osaka Mayor Hashimoto's boldness and rudeness

Osaka Mayor Toru Hashimoto (Mainichi)

The essence of events and their backgrounds have become increasingly indistinct, though a growing number of media outlets are showing ever-sharper images and offer more detailed commentaries on them.

This is particularly the case with the coverage of 42-year-old Osaka Mayor Toru Hashimoto. TV stations are enthusiastic about provoking belligerent Hashimoto and air images of him in a sensational way, though they have failed to explain the background behind his remarks or judge whether his assertions are appropriate.

TV broadcasters tend to focus excessively on the roles that this "monster" mayor will play in political realignment and reform of the country, apparently out of mere curiosity, but have forgotten the most basic part of the issue: that his position derives from the autonomous choice of the people of Osaka.

Last month, Hashimoto began a survey of all municipal government workers about their union and political activities. The survey asked 22 questions, including, "Did you participate in any activity to support any particular politician?" In a high-handed manner, Hashimoto ordered all Osaka city workers to fill out the questionnaires, including their names, and submit the responses to him as part of their official duties.

Naturally, his action stirred controversy. Critics have asserted the mayor's action is a violation of Article 19 of the Constitution guaranteeing freedom of thought and conscience; Article 28, providing for the right of workers to organize; and Clause 3, Article 7 of the Labor Union Act, which bans employers from controlling and interfering with unions.

The Osaka Municipal Government has suspended its analysis of the questionnaire results after the Osaka Prefectural Labor Relations Commission recommended that the survey be called off.

Discussions are now going on nationwide about whether Hashimoto is a dangerous figure. However, an opinion poll by the Asahi Shimbun national daily and the Osaka-based Asahi Broadcasting Corp. while Hashimoto was implementing his questionnaire showed that his approval rating was 70 percent among prefectural residents, and 71 percent of Osaka city residents.

"If employees (the unions) have a say in the appointment of the president (mayor), administrative reform can't be carried out," Hashimoto told reporters on Jan. 6. This is why he has confronted the city worker unions. Hashimoto was elected mayor in November last year by beating an incumbent backed by Osaka city worker unions.

Workers have the right to be protected from unfair suppression by their employers. I feel odd about Hashimoto's character, which combines boldness with rudeness. I also feel disgusted by prominent figures in various circles cozying up to the mayor.

Therefore, it is important to confirm the principle that a mayor should be evaluated by the people he or she represents. In other words, residents should be responsible for electing their mayor. There is no need for people across the country to pay close attention to Hashimoto's words and deeds and make such a fuss.

The coverage of Defense Minister Naoki Tanaka's words and deeds are another example of news organizations losing sight of the essence of a politician's actions despite repeatedly splashing their images all over TVs and front pages.

Statements Tanaka has made since he assumed the post in January have revealed his ignorance on basic defense issues, such as the Self-Defense Forces' consistency with the war-renouncing Constitution and the principles of Japan's participation in U.N. peacekeeping operations.

Moreover, he came under fire for leaving the House of Councillors Budget Committee while it was in session to have a cup of coffee, and declared in the Diet later that he was "determined not to drink coffee," astonishing the public.

There is no question that Tanaka is less than qualified to serve as defense minister at a time when North Korea's nuclear capabilities and China's military buildup pose an increasing threat to Japan. Nevertheless, he still stays in his position.

In February 1980, the defense agency chief in the Cabinet of then Prime Minister Masayoshi Ohira resigned after telling a House of Representatives Budget Committee session, "Since this is an important issue, I'll have the bureau director general (who is a bureaucrat) answer your question."

Defense Minister Naoki Tanaka (right) listens to an aide as Your Party lawmaker Kenji Nakanishi directs questions at the minister during an upper house budget committee meeting on Jan. 31. (Mainichi)

The official reason for his resignation was a scandal involving agency bureaucrats. No articles directly criticizing his absurd remark can be found in newspapers from the time. In that age, TV stations did not compete by constantly replaying politicians' gaffes and making public sport of them. Still, the prime minister had the defense agency chief step down to take responsibility for his miscue.

Ironically, a national political arena that lacks boldness -- particularly the stagnant ruling Democratic Party of Japan the largest opposition Liberal Democratic Party -- is what has given rise to the Hashimoto phenomenon. (By Takao Yamada, Expert Senior Writer)

Click here for the original Japanese story

(Mainichi Japan) March 5, 2012

Woman lost mother, gave birth on fateful day

Etsuko Shimosawa lifts Sakura in Miyako, Iwate Prefecture, on Feb. 17, as her husband, Hiroki, looks on. (Shingo Kuzutani)

MIYAKO, Iwate Prefecture--To Etsuko Shimosawa, her baby Sakura, born 30 minutes before the Great East Japan Earthquake struck, may be the reincarnation of her late mother she first met only three months before the disaster.

Shimosawa, 33, felt the strong shaking at her hospital on March 11 when her daughter was being weighed and measured. She fled to the rooftop and watched black waves sweeping the city.

The raging tsunami killed her mother, Taeko Kimura, 58, the same day.

Shimosawa’s parents divorced soon after she was born, and she was raised by her father's relatives.

She met Kimura by chance three months before the disaster.

“You are Ecchan, aren’t you?” Kimura asked her at a bus stop in front of Miyako Station. “I’m your mother, Taeko.”

Shimosawa was more pleased than surprised that Kimura remembered and recognized her. She had thought she was abandoned.

Kimura, remarried, was living near the sea.

“When your baby is born in the spring, please come and visit me,” she said.

Shimosawa learned about Kimura’s death from relatives a month after the disaster. She wept that night, holding Sakura in the futon.

In autumn, she visited Kimura’s family.

Kimura’s photographs showed that Shimosawa has her mother’s eyes and mouth.

She was told: “(Kimura) was always smiling, and she was strong-minded.”

Like Kimura, Sakura looks competitive.

Shimosawa’s grief eased a little when she thought that her mother may have been reborn as Sakura.

Shimosawa’s husband, Hiroki, 25, who works at a funeral company, watched a large number of funerals after the disaster.

Not a day has passed without him thinking about the lives given on March 11, when many were lost.

They can be a family today because he, his wife and Sakura all survived the disaster, which seems like a miracle.

A year will soon pass marking the day when 15,854 people were killed and 3,276 more were left missing by the earthquake and tsunami.

At their apartment, Shimosawa, with her husband, watches Sakura walk unsteadily.

She said she wants to live for her baby and herself although she cannot forget about what she lost on that tragic day.

REMEMBERING 3/11

Participants at a memorial service held in the Ishinomaki city government’s Kitakami Sogo branch office on March 4. (Shogo Koshida)

Memorial services were held across the devastated Tohoku region on March 4 to mark last year's disaster that claimed some 20,000 lives.

Events were held prior to the actual March 11 anniversary of the Great East Japan Earthquake and tsunami because many official ceremonies are due to be held this coming Sunday.

Bereaved family members and others who lost friends and colleagues in the catastrophe poured out their feelings.

Takeshi Takeyama heads an association to remember the 84 children, teachers and clerical staff of Okawa Elementary School in Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture, who perished or remain unaccounted for.

"Agony and bitterness do not heal," Takeyama, 57, told the 500 or so mourners at a service held in the city. "I continue to endure that pain. By helping each other and valuing our lives, let’s live our lives to the fullest, while weeping for our loved ones and feeling suffering."

Kazutaka Sato, 45, who lost his third son, Yuki, then a sixth-grader of the elementary school, said: "I can hardly believe that one year has already passed (since the disaster). But now that March has come around again, I just feel more bitterness."

Another memorial service was held in the ruins of Ishinomaki city government’s Kitakami Sogo branch office, where many residents took refugee after the magnitude-9.0 earthquake struck.

The building had been designated as an evacuation center in times of disaster. Nobody had anticipated a massive tsunami hitting later, sweeping away all but three who had gathered there.

The building is due to be demolished shortly.

"It is hard to see the wrecked building. But when I come here, I feel that I can see my elder sister," said Tamie Miura, 43, referring to her sibling, a city government employee, who is still missing.

"I want (the city government) to build a facility dedicated to the many people who died here and which enables us to pray for the repose of the souls of the victims," she added.

The branch office was located near the mouth of the Kitakamigawa river and obliterated by the tsunami.

Concrete poles stand at odd angles.

Before tsunami hit the building, staff of the branch office did a head count of people in the building. There were 19 branch office employees and 38 local residents, including pupils of nearby Yoshihama Elementary School.

Of them, only two employees of the branch office and a child survived.

However, the exact number and the names of those who were swept away is still unknown.

Meanwhile, in the Ando district of Otsuchi, Iwate Prefecture, where 218 people died and many others are still missing, a bell and a siren rang out at 2:46 p.m., the time when the earthquake struck. The 400 or so mourners offered silent prayers.

One of them was Teruo Shirogane, 62, whose mother, wife and daughter are still missing.

"I think that they must be feeling very cold. My hopes that they will be found soon are growing stronger and stronger," he said.

A memorial service was also held in the town of Naraha, Fukushima Prefecture, most of which straddles the no-entry zone around the stricken Fukushima No. 1 nuclear power plant.

Thirteen cherry seedlings were planted in memory of the 13 residents who perished in the tsunami.

Kazuo Owada, 55, attended the memorial service while wearing protective clothing to mourn his mother Toki, who was 83.

"I hope that I can live in this town (again) when these cherry seedlings have grown," Owada said.

Authorites in the town of Futaba, which is located in the no-entry zone, held a memorial service in Iwaki, also in Fukushima Prefecture.

"Although one year has passed (since the disaster), I still cannot accept this (reality). But this memorial service offers a chance to go forward, which is something I must do," said Yukari Tanaka, 25, whose father Toshikatsu, then 54, died in the tsunami.

Food Must Be Cleaned, Chernobyl Expert

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Sunday, March 4, 2012

Food must be cleansed, Chernobyl expert warns

Kyodo

AOMORI — A Russian expert on the 1986 Chernobyl disaster has told a symposium in Aomori Prefecture that it is imperative to cleanse food of radioactive substances emitted by the Fukushima No. 1 power plant.

Mikhail Balanov, a professor at the St. Petersburg Research Institute of Radiation Hygiene, proposed during the symposium Friday at Hirosaki University in the city of Hirosaki that Japanese farmers use the Prussian blue pigment to remove cesium from livestock and apply fertilizer designed to prevent the transmission of radioactive materials from soil to plants, methods used during the Chernobyl crisis.

The area affected by the crisis at the Fukushima No. 1 power station is smaller than that contaminated by the Chernobyl plant, and no acute health effects linked to radiation have been confirmed yet in the Fukushima crisis, he said.

He added that the medical expertise and knowhow from dealing with the Chernobyl disaster are relevant to Japan's efforts to control the ongoing crisis at the Fukushima plant.

Balanov was in charge of assessing the effects of the Chernobyl disaster on people's health and the environment.

Aomori Prefecture, which hosts a number of nuclear facilities, including a controversial facility in the village of Rokkasho designed to recycle spent nuclear fuel, is not immune to nuclear disasters like the one that hit Fukushima No. 1.

The four-day symposium, which began Wednesday and wrapped up Saturday, was attended by 130 researchers from 30 countries.

Radioactive Rice Straw

6,800 tons of radiation-tainted rice straw left lying in 8 prefectures

Packed rice straw is laid on an idle rice paddy in Ichinoseki, Iwate Prefecture on Dec. 13, 2011. (Mainichi)

Some 6,800 metric tons of rice straw contaminated with radioactive substances leaked from the crippled Fukushima No. 1 Nuclear Power Plant remains in eight prefectures with no immediate prospect of disposal, the Mainichi has learned.

Moreover, sludge generated from radiation-contaminated waste water as well as ash tainted with radioactive materials amounts to some 97,000 tons in 12 prefectures -- 3.6 times the figure as of July last year, according to the Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism Ministry.

Even though waste containing up to 8,000 becquerels of radiation per kilogram can be buried under national government standards, efforts to dispose of such waste have made little progress, showing that the government's countermeasures have not been properly implemented.

"Local bodies haven't been able to dispose of such waste partly because residents worried about contamination have voiced opposition to disposal of such waste in their own prefectures," a ministry official commented.

Tainted rice straw used as feed for beef cattle has proven to have contaminated the animals with radiation.

Miyagi Prefecture has the largest store of tainted rice straw, with 4,800 metric tons, followed by Fukushima with 1,100 tons, Iwate with 600 tons and Tochigi with 320 tons.

Fukushima Prefecture also had 30,000 tons of sludge and ash tainted with radioactive cesium at its sewage treatment facilities as of Feb. 3 -- the largest amount among Japan's prefectures and 25,220 tons more than in July last year. It was followed by Miyagi Prefecture with 22,000 tons (up 19,900 tons from July), Kanagawa with 19,000 tons (an increase of 14,690 tons), and 9,500 tons in Saitama (6,790 tons more than in July).

Click here for the original Japanese story

(Mainichi Japan) March 3, 2012

 

Local governments, farmers struggle with radioactive rice straw

Local gov'ts, farmers struggle with hundreds of tons of radiation-tainted rice straw

A "pipe house" built by cattle farmer Junichi Sasaki in Ichinoseki, Miyagi Prefecture, is seen in this photo taken on Feb. 26, 2012. (Mainichi)

Local governments and farmers in Iwate and Miyagi prefectures have been struggling unsuccessfully to dispose of hundreds of metric tons of rice straw, sewage sludge and ash tainted with radiation from the crippled Fukushima No. 1 Nuclear Power Plant.

The central government has been trying to take steps to deal with the problem, which was largely unexpected before the outbreak of the nuclear crisis caused by the March 11, 2011 Great East Japan Earthquake and tsunami, but there are no signs yet of the problem being solved anytime soon.

Junichi Sasaki, a 61-year-old cattle farmer in Ichinoseki, Iwate Prefecture, has been working tirelessly to move radiation-tainted rice straw into a "pipe house" he recently built.

"At long last, I've moved a step forward. But this is just the beginning," he said.

Sasaki has about seven tons of rice straw to dispose of. He recently built a snow-resistant "pipe house" near his livestock barn far from town so that he can keep rice straw there temporarily in collaboration with other farmers in the neighborhood. Prefectural and local governments are supposed to check the radiation levels of the rice straw there every three months.

Sasaki also has about 140 tons of barnyard manure from his cattle, which were fed tainted rice straw. But he has not been able to dispose of it because the central government has not come up with a clear policy.

"If the situation goes on like this, it will discourage young successors and the local cattle industry will collapse," he said.

Roughly 600 tons of tainted rice straw remains in Iwate Prefecture, about 400 tons of which is in Ichinoseki. The Ichinoseki Municipal Government tried to a build a temporary storage facility in a mountainous area on city-owned land, but the plan drew strong opposition from people living near the planned site, who questioned whether it would be 100 percent safe. The local government then proposed to build four smaller disposal facilities spread across the city, but that idea was not accepted either. Farmers have accordingly been unable to get rid of their tainted rice straw.

Ichinoseki Mayor Osamu Katsube commented: "The government showed Fukushima Prefecture its plan to build a temporary storage facility, but it hasn't shown anything to local municipalities around Fukushima Prefecture. Yet radiation doesn't have boundaries."

Miyagi Prefecture faces a similar problem. On the evening of Jan. 31, the prefectural and municipal governments held a briefing in Kurihara on storing of tainted rice straw for local residents. About 70 local residents who attended the briefing session reluctantly accepted the plan, saying, "We don't agree but it can't be helped." A temporary storage facility is scheduled to be built within the city's Tsukidate district, and rice straw is expected to be brought into the facility in March. It is only the Tsukidate district in the city which has accepted the city's plan to build storage facilities. Three other districts in the city stand firm against the plan to build storage facilities there, and therefore the prefectural and city governments are planning to hold another briefing sometime after mid-March.

According to the Miyagi Prefectural Government, about 4,800 tons of tainted rice straw remains in the prefecture, and only about 2,880 tons of it can be stored temporarily in the foreseeable future. Cattle farmers who cannot dispose of tainted rice straw in temporary storage facilities are worried, saying, "It will affect our cultivation work starting this spring."

Miyagi Gov. Yoshihiro Murai told a news conference in January, "The government should take responsibility for securing temporary storage facilities, disposing of tainted rice straw and formulating health-hazard standards, and explain the situation to prefectural residents." He insisted that the prefectural government would take action only after the central government makes a decision.

Click here for the original Japanese story

(Mainichi Japan) March 3, 2012

 

Fukushima

 

FUKUSHIMA, Japan — A visit to the scene of Japan's worst nuclear accident, almost a year after the area was struck by a powerful earthquake and tsunami, is a study in contrasts.

Elsewhere along the vast stretch of coast hit by the March 11 tsunami there are palpable signs of progress. Almost all of the 23 million tons of rubble has been removed, although rebuilding has yet to start.

But at Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant, the cleanup looks like it has barely begun. Instead, the real work is being done, unseen, deep inside the crippled reactors, where melted fuel remains cool, but whose precise state and location remains a mystery.

The destructive force of three reactor meltdowns is evident as soon as the bus carrying a small group of journalists invited by the plant's operator, Tokyo Electric Power (Tepco), enters the 20-kilometer (13-mile) exclusion zone imposed after the first reactor building exploded on March 12.

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In the town of Naraha, most of the buildings emerged unscathed from the quake, but the streets are deserted. We pass a convenience store with its stock sitting untouched on shelves, and a parking lot dotted with cars that were abandoned in the panic.

During the short journey to the plant from J.Village — a soccer training complex that is now the logistical base for the Fukushima Daiichi cleanup operation — radiation monitors alert us to the invisible enemy that has driven 80,000 people from their homes.

Radiation levels rise and fall, soaring to 35 microsieverts per hour in Okuma, a farming village two kilometers from the plant that could remain uninhabitable for decades.

The abandonment of entire communities is troubling enough, but little can prepare you for a close-up view of Fukushima Daiichi's damaged reactors.

 

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One is shrouded in a vinyl cover while another appears largely intact, its mottled turquoise and white pattern clearly visible on a cold, but brilliantly sunny winter afternoon. The Nos. 3 and 4 reactors, however, are a tangled mess of steel and debris.

This low-lying area near the coast is by far the most hazardous part of the site. High radiation levels have hampered work to clear the wreckage and inspect the state of the melted fuel. The day before our visit, a robot sent inside reactor No. 2 reactor found 200 millisieverts per hour at one spot.

 

 

The reactors proximity to the ocean made them easy targets for the 14-meter (42-foot) tsunami, which effortlessly breached the plant's protective wall. Along one side of the coastal road, mesh sacks filled with rocks provide makeshift reinforcement; on the other are the exposed innards of the reactors' turbine buildings, crammed with twisted metal, warped shutters and trucks swept up and deposited by the waves.

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But the clutter tells only half the story. From the outside, the appearance is one of utter chaos, but inside, damaged nuclear fuel is being kept cool by vast quantities of water, which is then stored in tanks covering almost every spare patch of ground on the site, before being decontaminated and fed back into the reactors.

Water management is critical to preventing the fuel from heating up again and setting off a potentially catastrophic nuclear chain reaction, says Katsuhiko Iwaki, deputy manager of the Fukushima Daiichi stabilization center.

The current capacity of 165,000 tons of water will reach its limit by April, he says, adding that Tepco is adding space for tens of thousands of tons of additional water.

Work near the damaged reactors is still fraught with danger. "Most of the workers here perform a two-hour shift in the morning and again in the afternoon," Iwaki said.

"But there are other areas where the dosages are so high they can stay there for only two or three minutes. That's just enough time to connect a hose before their alarms signal it's time for them to leave."

Satoshi Tarumi, whose job is to monitor the health of those workers, arrived at the plant three days after the tsunami. Conditions have significantly improved since then, he says, and despite his relatively young age, 33, he does not fear for his health.

"As part of the Fukushima Daiichi staff I feel partly responsible for what happened, that's why I want to be involved," Tarumi said. "My exposure levels are still below the legal limit, and I don't see any problem working here."

He is similarly matter of fact when asked about the future of the industry that provides his livelihood: "It's up to the government to make a decision on nuclear energy. I'm just here to do as much as I can to help stabilize the plant."

At the apex of the Fukushima Daiichi operation is Takeshi Takahashi, a serious-looking, quietly spoken man who became the plant's manager last year after his predecessor, Masao Yoshida, took early retirement after being diagnosed with cancer (Tepco says the illness is not related to his work at the plant).

Takahashi concedes that the situation on the ground is still fragile. "We need to avoid major releases of radioactive materials of the kind we saw after the accident," he said.

"We achieved cold shutdown [a stable state in which reactor temperatures remain below boiling point] in December, but we must ensure we keep making improvements because we still can't say for sure that the facilities on site are totally trouble-free."

Those facilities are monitored around the clock by up to 700 Tepco staff ensconced in the emergency control room. Divided into pods depending on their expertise, they are linked to workers in the field and the utility's headquarters in Tokyo via two enormous screens. Along one wall are messages of support, including a giant Japanese flag bearing the Japanese character for "hope."

Takahashi made no attempt to deflect criticism of Tepco's conduct in the early days of the crisis, when information was scarce, and sometimes contradictory. His priority, he says, was to pave the way for a return home for at least some nuclear evacuees.

"We often hear that we didn't communicate properly, and I am sorry about that," he said. "It was never our intention to suppress information, but there was a chaotic time after the accident when we tended to neglect efficient communication.

"I'd like to apologize for the troubles and concerns we caused for local people. We need to secure safety in order to bring comfort and relief to the local residents. We are trying our best now to bring those who evacuated from the evacuation zone back to their homes as soon as possible," he said.

Reports suggest that radiation levels in some areas near the outer edge of the evacuation zone are low enough for a small number of residents to return in the coming months.

They will not include Saori Kanesaki, a resident of Tomioka, a town in the evacuation zone, who until last year guided groups of visitors around Fukushima Daiichi.

"Before the accident it was my job to tell people that nuclear power was safe," said Kanesaki, who now works at the plant for a Tepco affiliate. "But given the situation, if I were to tell them that now ... I would be lying."

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