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Tokyo

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Now that we finally understand the risks of radiation exposure, I would argue that exposure to hyperventilating news coverage is a more serious matter.  I am not alone.  The triple-whammy, as Reuters called it, of  March 11 — monster earthquake, tsunami, and nuclear reactor crisis — precipitated a meltdown the likes of which many of us had never imagined:  A daily barrage of hyperbole from news organizations.  Yes, there were reporters trying to get it right and inform audiences about what was going on.  But there was also a lot of screaming news that fanned fear into a firestorm

As one who sat in Tokyo for more than a week watching TEPCO battle reactors live on TV while checking Twitter, plus several online news feeds, I cannot help but feel that news media let us down — not only in Tokyo, but wherever our families and friends may have been during that time.

It wasn’t until April 1 and this Bloomberg story that I finally felt things were being put into perspective — perspective which most of us in Tokyo during Meltdown Week had had to fight to obtain by going directly to authorities online, such as a physicist at Tokyo University, rather than news sources.  Now we know, and all my friends know, you’ll get more radiation being in Hong Kong than Tokyo, plus the extra you’ll receive from the flight.  Nice to know, but a little late.

A random and incomplete list of complaints:

Click Bait: As a wire news editor back in the dark ages (pre-Internet), I was reminded many times that a reader perusing a newspaper often reads ONLY headlines, and that my job was to get them to stop, read, and, if possible, think.  I avoided misleading headlines that pulled readers into a story but didn’t deliver.  Back then a story’s success wasn’t measured by clicks, with the ultimate goal of  making the “Most Viewed” or “Most Emailed” lists.

Times have changed.  If you read only headlines, then you were in a panic.  Even if you stayed with a story through its entirety it was still difficult not to panic. Here’s CBS, “Food radiation fears move to the forefront”  — terrifying, especially if you miss the subhead: “In the U.S., the fear of radiation from Japan is so great that even figures meant to reassure can instead cause alarm.”  The key quote, however, is:  “We actually see health damage — not from the radiation but from the fear of the radiation,” said Tom McKone of the Department of Environmental Health Sciences at UC Berkeley. “And it’s very real.”  Really? Then shouldn’t the headline have been different, such as, “Fear more damaging than actual radiation, says risk expert.”  It won’t get as many clicks, but it is more accurate.

Here’s one from ABC, which like CBS, usually brought balance to the story, but almost always in the lower half, not in the lead: “Fear of spreading radiation in Japan” comes with the subhead, “Potential radioactive steam from Fukushima plant poses hazard.”  When you get to the actual video,  it’s tagged with “Nuclear Emergency: Fuel at Boiling Point.”  Lots of fear and speculation, and yet it finishes with reporter David Wright taking radioactive readings around Tokyo and finding little except good sushi.  Reassuring?  Not quite.  As a viewer you can’t help but ask, “If there’s no problem, why talk as if there is?”

Reporting accurate, but speculative: Whenever a scientist, or an engineer is asked, “Can you rule out the possibility of the reactor core having meltdown?”  The answer will be, “We cannot rule out the possibility, but…” The rest is buried at the bottom of the story that has a  headline, “Crews Race to Fight Meltdown,” or more understated, yet still alarming, “Meltdown Possible, says Scientist.”  In either case you are focusing on a possibility, not a probability.  That makes all the difference – the situation in Fukushima was and is dangerous because of the possibilities.   However,  there was and is greater probability that it is coming under control.

News commentators: These people aren’t really reporters.  At best, they are authorities in a specific area, often unrelated to what they are talking about.  At worst, they may be the source of all known evil (this is speculation and it is only a possibility rather than a probability).  Most notable early on, was professional racist Rush Limbaugh laughing about environmentally-friendly Japan suffering at the hands of nature.  And then there’s, Nancy Grace of CNN, who according to her bio is a former attorney, but  appears to specialize in screeching fear mongering.  Here she is yelling at the weatherman over whether there is any danger in the U.S. of radiation from Japan.  He insists the US is fine, but Japan has very, very serious problems. Thank you, CNN, for aging my mother another year.

Terms vague and unexplained: Meltdown, of course. Containment, a tricky word, because there are “containments” in the reactor and many other containing layers and walls that could be containing something, but god only knows what or how.  Exposure, as in the “fuel rods are exposed” — sounds dreadful, but exposed how? Above the water or to the open air?  The New York Times was on this, citing a frightening what-if study with 138,000 dying.  Then there were sieverts,  micro and mili.  These often appeared in the same story.  For a while, I thought 100 microsieverts equaled 1milisiervert — an easy mistake that will scare the hell out of you because 1,000 microsierverts actually equals 1 milisiervert.   Dosage: Exposure is measured in hourly increments; you must hang out wherever the radiation is for one hour to get the level described.  And lastly, perspective on the numbers: It wasn’t until nearly two weeks into this mess that many organizations began running explanations of the numbers right after quoting them.  The  number I really appreciated knowing early on came from this site.  The Inverse Square Law — double your distance from the radiation and reduce our exposure to 25 percent of the original distance.

In the end, some of the best information was from experts and their blogs. Welcome to the new era of news media, where disasters are great reality show content, providing background for celebrity journalists (see Anderson Cooper “risking his life”)  — news that entertains, but leaves us none wiser about what happened or why.

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Sometimes your best option in a crisis is a good lunch.

Enduring Meltdown Week was an experience that none of us will soon forget.  Our concerns about radiation were exacerbated by a storm of panicked headlines and rumors that sorely tested our sanity.  Here’s how we survived.

Monday, March 16: We started the week with high expectations.  Slowly, though, we realized that the world was not the same.  First, were the numbers that staggered the imagination – a 9.0 earthquake, fourth strongest ever recorded, and the ensuing tsunami, 14 meters high (with a 23.6 meter peak), that destroyed most of the Tohoku northeast coastal communities.  Then there was the gnawing question of whether TEPCO was up to the task of dealing the damaged reactors at its crippled Fukushima power plant.  The company’s patchy record of compliance didn’t inspire confidence and it released increasingly grim updates.

The standard TEPCO briefing:  “We have this problem and it is a really serious problem. And over here, we have another terrible problem, which makes a very grave situation.  Then there’s some other stuff that looks even worse.  Oh yes, and there’s white smoke and we don’t know where it’s coming from.  Any questions?”  These were painful.

Rail service was cut back, making crowded trains even worse.  Many international companies closed for the week, and all of my meetings and classes were cancelled.  There seemed little to do, but to wait and hope for the best.  Japanese were praised in the news for their stoicism and to some extent that was accurate.  But there was also hording in Tokyo, a quietly Japanese way to panic — bread, toilet paper, cup ramen, and gasoline were suddenly in short supply.  Full disclosure: We bought an extra loaf of bread.

Tuesday, March 17: Another dawn and another explosion at the Fukushima plant, this one releasing a radioactive cloud that was duly recorded on Geiger counters throughout the  metro area.  Unaware, I sat with a friend at a hamburger shop, trying to make sense of a New York Times story about what happens if  reactor core material were exposed to the open winds.  The answer was that the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse would arrive posthaste.  It was just one of many, so many, stories that speculated on the situation endlessly without offering much context: What’s the worst that could happened?  The answers seemed limited only by the imagination of the experts quoted.

As we pondered the story, I received a text message with a radiation chart showing a spike at about 11 a.m.  –  a huge jump, but a temporary one.  I called a contact at the U.S. Embassy, a physician, and he reassured me that the radiation was still relatively low and there was nothing to worry about.  Just in case, we discussed how we might take an “evacation” – an evacuation-vacation down south.  The cloud passed, but anxiety lingered.

Wednesday, March 16: A rise in radiation levels led Japan to formally accept direct U.S. assistance.  Why wait until it gets really scary to accept help? Meanwhile, the barrage of U.S. news continued (I’m mildly paraphrasing):  “Meltdown – End of the World Set for Friday Noon — photos and video click here.”

This had become the morning double-whammy routine that we faced during Meltdown Week — a review of screaming headlines and then email from friends begging us to flee, or assuming that we had already fled.  Some were better than others; “I hope all is well with you” began one; others were not as good, “It’s so sad see what’s happening to Tokyo.”  (I still haven’t answered that one and may never.)

I tried to focus on local news, but kept checking my Twitter feed, looking for a positive international story, but there wasn’t one.  The news always sounded better in Japan – even in English.  In the U.S., with the cable news war and online competition, everyone seemed to be grabbing for the most sensationalistic headlines – click bait that made you look at the story, though it usually didn’t deliver on the headline.  As for Europe, it was clear that Chernobyl had scared the daylights out of the entire continent and still did.

There were also Facebook messages to contend with: Friends-of-friends — “Run, bro! You gotta leave now.  It’s gonna blow!”  These usually came in late at night.  Many friends were checking Facebook into the early hours.  I worried how they were handling it.

Throughout Wednesday I searched online for calm explanations and studied the workings of reactors.  I was trying to project manage the crisis from a distance, like an armchair quarterback sitting through a routing of his team, hoping to find a sign that showed the coach knew how to turn it around.  Yukio Edano, Prime Minister Kan’s chief cabinet secretary, seemed to have a handle on what was going on, but TEPCO….

Thursday, March 17: At 2 a.m., I woke up.  I had been texting friends and had gone to bed uneasy about something that I had read about containment.  Now, checking messages, I misread something about the reactor core being compromised. Mistake number one, avoid studying reactors via text messaging. I checked U.S. news updates.  The headlines were grim.  Then checked email, most of it from panicked friends.  Mistakes two and three.

This wasn’t funny anymore; enough of trying to understand just what TEPCO was talking, or not talking, about.  This was the worst kind of cabin fever – sitting around with nothing to do, but contemplate catastrophic disaster.  Every news update focused on the reactors and then followed with replays of the tsunami destruction.  It seemed like a preview of what was going to happen in Fukushima.  It would have made me crazy if I were sitting in an Iowa cornfield.

I called my friends. “Dudes, I’m going to roll.” (This is a paraphrase).  I wanted my wife and son out of the city.  Rationally, I knew that things were probably OK, but my argument was:  “Why wait to evacuate? Why not get into position to do that well beforehand by simply taking a pleasant vacation in Kyoto?”  This was simple strategic planning.  I knew nothing for certain about the Fukushima crisis, but I  did know a trip to Kyoto would put my family in strategic position.  If TEPCO could turnaround this mess, then all we had done was enjoyed these days with a little vacation, rather than sitting around watching disaster coverage.  It was a win-win decision.

I informed my wife, who nodded and insisted on breakfast.  We discussed our options; Kyoto by Shinkansen seemed best.  A friend offered us a visit to Ehime Prefecture via Haneda Airport.  All set, I thought.  My wife came back with that she’d rather not go to Ehime.  And she’d rather not go to Kyoto.  She didn’t feel like taking a trip.  She thought we should just stay home, remain calm, and not burden the transportation system.  I tried to explain about positioning, but was soon discussing if she would go to her sister’s house on the west edge of Tokyo.  My final gambit:  “Do you know how much stress it’s causing me for you and Andy to be here?” Yes.  Her position remained unchanged.  Staying at home was causing me as much stress as the Fukushima crisis.  It was like being snowed in, without even the pleasure of watching snow fall.

During my final pitch for an “evacation,” TEPCO held a press briefing and finally made sense. They had a plan! Chinook helicopters were dropping water on the reactors to buy time for the pumps to be restarted.  It was the first time that I had actually heard how TEPCO would resolve the crisis.  And the Chinook were already in action.  The first water drop was heroically beautiful – coming in low,  pausing just up wind, and — boom — hitting the reactor like a water balloon.  Action and a plan!

In the end, we only went as far as lunch.  It was a beautiful day and the restaurant, Tonino’s in Shimotakaido, was, as always, rewarding.  By the afternoon, the U.S. Embassy had announced that it would evacuate citizens.  The U.S. cable news media should pay for it, I thought.  They were the ones scaring everyone.  I was tired of the situation, but thought that a free trip to the U.S. wouldn’t solve anything.

Thursday night, despite a threat of unplanned blackouts, I went out to comedy night at the Hobgoblin, a pub in Shibuya.  Many Japanese companies had remained open all week and everyone seemed to be heading home early to stay calm and conserve energy.  At Shimokitazawa, I had to fight through the crowd of outbound passengers to get on the inbound train.  I made it to the pub and was informed when I arrived that it was St. Patrick’s. And here I had been thinking it was just another day in Meltdown Week.

Friday, March 18: I went out for an early morning jog.  The city was quiet, but by 7 a.m. people were heading into work.  Tokyo was continuing despite it all.

I checked the international news and it had all suddenly flipped to Libya.  The prospect of the pumps being restored at Fukushima had done the trick.  Japan and meltdown were still in the headlines, but considerably lower.  Meanwhile, my reactor studies had borne fruit.  I particularly liked the Inverse Square Law, double your distance from the radiation source and reduce your exposure to 25 percent.

Saturday, March 19: Despite the improved situation, the exodus continued from Tokyo, making it a rather pleasant place to be.  Tokyo is always at least 50 percent over capacity everywhere.  Now, it felt like a long holiday — parks were busy, but uncrowded, though the weather was perfect. We spent six hours in Komazawa Park.

Sunday, March 20: Though there were occasional setbacks at the Fukushima reactors, there was a general feeling that we could go on.  The golf coach at my son’s sports club understood my feelings about “evacation.”  She, too, had tried to be Japanese and handle the crisis by staying inside, conserving electricity and remaining calm.  After two days, she couldn’t take it any longer and went out to enjoy the beautiful weather.

Epilogue: As I write this now, we have a little shake; an aftershock somewhere.  This is what I’ve learned from the Meltdown Week:

  1. Humor is an essential anecdote to anxiety.
  2. Worry makes a good manager; too much makes a bad one.
  3. Cabin fever exacerbates other anxieties.
  4. Avoid the study of nuclear reactors via text messaging.
  5. Enjoy the day.

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Tokyo Unbroken

March 16, 2011

Up until 2:45 p.m. Friday everything was as usual. After that everything was not. All caps text messages came from friends — THAT WAS NOT FUNNY, was one. Twitter and Facebook posts echoed the sentiment.

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Modern Matsuri: Tokyo Marathon 2011

March 1, 2011

For a rookie, the start of a big marathon offers all the pleasure of running through Shinjuku at rush hour. It takes 8 minutes, for us to reach Mayor Shintaro Ishihara and the start line. Then the race begins in earnest, with hundreds running to the nearest toilets. My time for the first 100 meters: 18 minutes.

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Tokyo’s Loss: The Destruction of the Kabukiza

August 13, 2010

Having only a handful of architectural treasures is a remarkable accomplishment for Tokyo, considering the sheer vastness of this metropolis, and proof how little architecture and landscape are valued here.

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