亲历：震后日本现状

我在日本遭受311大地震与海啸侵袭之后的75天，首度回到东京。这次回乡的主要原因是探望年迈的家母，但不知道为什么，我在旅途中一直带着忐忑不安的心情。对于这场灾难为日本与当地人民所带来的冲击，我没有亲身体验；任何有关于3月11日地震当天的情形与我对现场的想像，看来几乎是理论性的。

在成田机场通关的时候，我的心情平静了一些；那里的人与景物仍如往日那么地有效率、洁净且有秩序，完全是日本这个国家“一切如常”的行事风格。但当我打算在机场买一张电车票的时候，还是猛然一惊──成田机场快线(Narita Express)的行驶班次不正常。“这是因为东北大地震的缘故。”日本国铁(Japan Railway，JR)售票柜台的小姐这么告诉我。

下一个我所能搭的成田机场快线班次恐怕要等上3个钟头，但尽管意外，我还是告诉自己：“既然这样，我可以搭巴士到横滨。”就在我花了90分钟的车程抵达横滨站时，发现JR几乎关闭了每个车站内月台上的所有电扶梯，如果不想慢慢爬那些好像通向天际的阶梯，就得排队等候唯一开放的电扶梯。

因为拖着一个大行李箱，我还是去排队了；一旁静止不动的电扶梯上有个标语写着：“请与我们配合节约能源。”幸好，车站内的公共厕所还是有水的；但当我洗过手准备烘干，却看到每一台烘手机上也贴着相同的节约能源标语。

于是我甩甩手走出去，无奈地接受日本正经历海啸后冲击的事实。我们得忘记那些早已视为理所当然的生活小便利。现在的日本很像回到了二次战后的1946年，节约能源人人有责。

当我终于坐上一班地铁，打开手中的《朝日新闻》都是有关地震后续的消息，其中最引人瞩目的是一张东北/关东的大型地图，地图上标明了一个个遭受震灾与海啸侵袭的村庄城镇，以及罹难者、失踪者的人数，还有转往其他县市暂时避难的人数。

该报还开辟了一个颇有规模的版位，列出“已逝者”的名单，这也几乎成为日本每家报纸固定天天出现的栏目，显然有关当局仍在持续搜寻遗体，当死者身分辨认完成，报纸就会登出名单。

真的让我惊吓的是“每日核能报告(nuclear report)”，那就像是天气预报图一样，列出东北与关东地区各城市辐射尘浓度，而且，这也成为日本各家新闻媒体的固定栏目，除了各家报纸，日本NHK电视台也会每日播报。

我看到家母居住的茅崎(Chigasaki)市，在我抵达日本的前一天辐射尘浓度是每小时0.052微西弗(microsieverts)；虽然这跟距离福岛县第一核电厂只有31公里的浪汀町(Namie-cho)，每小时达到6.6微西弗的状况比起来轻微很多(但我不确定这些数据是如何判读)。

即将前往的城市辐射浓度不高，我应该要感到放心；但是我也明白在此刻并没有科学数据可以说明，如果人体长期处于低量辐射之中，是否也会影响健康。就是这样的未知，点燃每个人心中的恐惧。

下一页：核电厂辐射问题仍未解决

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核电厂辐射外泄问题仍未解决

东京电力公司(Tokyo Electric Power Co.，Tepco；简称东电)位于日本东北海岸的六座核能反应炉，目前仍持续释放辐射到空气与水中，而连东电本身都坦承，他们到今年底或是明年初之前，仍无法让严重毁损的三座反应炉获得控制。这是很残酷的现实。

由于福岛核电厂仍持续泄出辐射，东电得在毁损的反应炉注水、释出放射性蒸气达一年甚至更久；东电已经在当地建设了一座低放射性废弃物储存设施，并没有打算要将废弃物移往他处。雪上加霜的是，不久前东电的核废料储存容器出现新裂缝，据说已经排放了60吨的辐射水至环境中。很显然，目前东电完全没有可靠的解决方案来控制状况日益恶化的核反应炉，对于核废料的处理也没有具体计划。

日本政府稍早前因为将学生曝露在辐射尘中的浓度容许值，定在每年20毫西弗，引起了轩然大波，因为该数值是国际辐射防护委员会(International Commission on Radiation Protection)对于核电厂员工曝露辐射尘浓度的容许值。在压力下，日本政府后来宣布将拨经费给福岛核电厂邻近的学校，清除被辐射污染的表层土(topsoil)，又重新将学生曝露在辐射尘中的浓度容许值，调降到先前的二十分之一。

根据NHK的报导，在日本官方新政策出炉之前，已经有一所位于福岛县的学校抢先清除学生游乐场的辐射污染土壤。该校的明快行动与决策看来值得赞扬，但有个问题是，没有地方可以储放那些受污染的土壤，也不会有农民或是邻居愿意使用、或是将之放在后院。所以，那所学校后来被通知得先把那些放射性土壤堆放在学校操场上。

日本可能是全球对于地震灾害防备最完善的国家，但这样的赞誉对于该国目前所遭遇的地震与海啸后困境帮助甚微。日本缺乏一个能团结政府与产业界领导人的未来计划，特别是在核能问题上。而且已经一个星期过去了，我还是没盼到任何进展，实在令人万分忧心。

或者，更精确地说，我所担心的是那些日本官僚、政府首长、政治人物、产业领导人，甚至是部分学者，都有“自我约束(self-restraint)”的倾向，他们习惯以最有限的方式来透露相关讯息。例如在福岛核电厂危机发生之初，日本官方虽然已经掌握当地辐射尘状况的详细资讯，却只通过网络公布，而且隐瞒了城市的名称。

据了解，政府隐瞒信息的理由是避免引起民众恐慌并大举逃难，造成“不必要的”社会动荡。而根据个人浅见，日本的消费大众与它们所谓的“领导人”一样难辞其咎。

下一页：民间谣言四起

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民间伤害性谣言四起

最近日本当地冒出了一个我以前没听过的新名词“Fuhyo higai(风评被害)”，大概的意思就是“伤害性谣言”；它不鼓励民众传播对地震灾区生产产品安全性的相关谣言，而且日本政府与东电将补偿那些受到谣言伤害区域的民众。

这听起来有点像是，日本政府宁愿民众在获得补偿金之前，不知道他们就是受害者。我能理解有必要避免“伤害性谣言”过度猖獗，但日本消费大众与日本的媒体，竟将这种一般常识变成针对棘手问题的官方调停事件，这真的是很恐怖。

对我来说，我可以习惯生活在没有那么多小钢珠机台或是自动贩卖机的东京──这两种机器都被东京市的政府官员列为耗电元凶，我也可以忍受没有霓虹灯闪烁的银座闹市，并肯定目前日本企业在下午4点半关闭办公室、然后关掉电灯，让员工早点回家或在家工作的政策。所谓的“弹性上班”制度终于也来到日本了。

部分日本汽车厂商与汽车零件厂，决定在夏季的7月到9月，将周休时间由礼拜六与礼拜天，改到礼拜四与礼拜五，以避开尖峰用电时间。因为东北地区的发电厂损坏，日本政府已经设定了一个目标，将在今年夏天将制造业的电力使用量减15%，而这个季节正是冷气空调用电需求最高的时候。

对日本经济特别重要的几个特定关键产业，例如半导体，就可以不受以上政策限制。总之日本全国将团结一致达成降低用电量15%的目标。许多我访谈过的专家仍然有信心地认为，日本产业界将安然度过这个夏天，不至于遭遇严重的电力中断。

日本人十分擅长于设定、传播，并达成以上那种省电15%的目标，但在另一方面，却不爱讨论、制定计划甚至是面对眼前的问题──就像是福岛县的核灾──这些问题所需的解决方案远比发起募捐活动更为复杂。

所以，当众人无声地忧虑“Fuhyo-Higai”、谴责臆测，并暗暗对那些糟糕情况表示不满的同时，很少人愿意公开发言。四周是震耳欲聋的沉默，它甚至延伸到对于下一次大地震不知何时发生的强烈不确定感──到底还有什么是最坏的情况？

大家想到的，都是东京…这个城市，居住了包括电子工程专辑日本版发行人Masaya Ishida在内的1,300万民众；他说：“问题是我们并不知道下一次大地震何时会来，有可能是3年后，也有可能是300年之后。”

嘘！Ishida桑，也许如果我们不谈它，它就不会来…

作者Junko Yoshida为电子工程专辑美国版日裔总编辑

点击参考原文：Japan: Land of the rising silence

《电子工程专辑》网站版权所有，谢绝转载

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Japan: Land of the rising silence

Junko Yoshida

I landed in Tokyo last week – for the first time since the great earthquake and tsunami hit Japan 75 days ago.

While the reason for my visit was to see my aging mother, I arrived with much trepidation— largely driven by what I didn’t know. I had no real feel for the magnitude of impact the recent disaster must have had on the country and its people. Everything I learned about what happened on March 11th — and what I deduced about it — seemed almost theoretical.

Walking through the customs at Narita airport initially calmed me. People, places and things were as efficient, clean and as orderly as always. Nothing at Narita was broken; the whole scene screamed out the Japanese national motto: “Business as usual.”

The rude awakening, however, hit when I attempted to buy a train ticket at the airport. Narita Express trains are running on an irregular schedule, “due to the Great Tohoku Kanto earthquake,” according to a woman at the Japan Railway ticket counter. The next available Narita Express train I could take wasn’t due for three hours. While surprised, I told myself, “Oh, well. So, I’ll take the bus to Yokohama.”

Arriving at Yokohama station after 90 minutes on the bus, I discovered that Japan Railway had stopped running every escalator to every platform at every station. I could either hike up a stairway that looked like it went to the stars, or I could line up at one lonesome elevator — which I did, not because I’m not fit, but because I was schlepping a suitcase. I looked wistfully at a nearby escalator, chained and motionless, bearing a notice that read: “Please cooperate with us in conserving energy.”

In the public rest room at the station, the toilets — thank God — were flushing. Everything seemed normal until I went to dry my hands. Every dryer had a notice, saying: “Please cooperate with us in conserving energy.”

I walked out waving my hands, and resigned to the message of post-tsunami Japan. Forget the little conveniences we’ve all come to take for granted. It’s post-war all over again — and saving energy was everybody’s job, just like it had been in 1946.

Finally installed on a local train, I opened a newspaper. While the Asahi Shimbun had a number of stories related to the quake’s aftermath, the most eye-catching was a large map of Tohoku and Kanto.

It mapped out each village and town affected by the disaster, complete with death tolls, the missing and those evacuated to temporary facilities in each municipality. The newspaper also devotes a sizable space for a list of full names of “Those who passed away.” This has become a regular feature of each newspaper, day in and day out. Clearly, Japanese authorities are still discovering bodies. When those bodies are identified and publicly acknowledged, the newspaper adds a measure of finality.

But the thing that really freaked me out was the daily nuclear report (it looks a lot like a weather forecast map) – listing radiation levels in the air in various cities in Tohoku and Kanto. Again, this is now a regular feature -- both on NHK (Japan’s public broadcast) news, and in the paper.

I learned that Chigasaki, where my mother lives, registered 0.052 microsieverts per hour the day before my plane landed. Although this was a marked difference from the 6.6 microsieverts found in Namie-cho, a town 31 kilometers northwest of the stricken Fukushima Daiichi power plant, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of either number.

I was supposed to feel reassured about the low-level of radiation in the city I was heading for. But then, I also know that there’s no scientific data, at this point, on the impact on human bodies of a low-level dosage of radiation over a long period of time. It’s the unknown that fuels everyone’s fear.

The Tokyo Electric Power Co. (Tepco) six-reactor complex on Japan’s northeastern coast continues emitting radiation into the air and water. Tepco itself has said it will not be able to bring the three heavily damaged reactors under control until late this year or early next year. That’s the hard reality.

No solutions in sight for containment

While the plant continues to spew radioactivity, Japan’s largest electric power company will be pumping water into the damaged reactors and venting radioactive steam for a year or more. Tepco has built a low-level waste storage facility on the site. But it has no plans to move the waste elsewhere.

More bad news came from Tepco last Thursday [May 27th]. A new leak in a storage container had dumped an additional 60 tons of radioactive water into the environment.

It’s clear that no credible solutions are in sight to contain the deteriorating reactors. No concrete plans are laid out for how to deal with the growing nuclear waste, either.

Look no further than a recent controversy over the radiation exposure limit for schoolchildren in Japan. The government set off an uproar in April when it set a radiation exposure limit of 20 millisieverts per year, the same dosage the International Commission on Radiation Protection recommends for nuclear plant workers.

Under pressure, the Japanese government announced last week that it will pay schools near the Fukushima nuclear plant to remove radioactive topsoil; it re-set the target radiation exposure for schoolchildren at one-twentieth the previous limit.

NHK had reported that before this new policy was announced, one school in Fukushima had jumped the gun and scraped the surface of the radioactive soil on its playground. The school’s quick action and independent thinking seemed laudable. But there was a hitch. They had no place to put the contaminated soil. No farmers could use it and no neighbors wanted it in their backyard. The school was told to keep the heap of radioactive soil in the middle of the schoolyard — for now.

The Japanese may be better prepared for earthquakes than any other country. But this is scant consolation in today’s post-earthquake and tsunami problem — the absence of a plan by the combined leadership of government and industry for the future, especially when it comes to dealing with nuclear energy.

It’s only been a week, but I’m starved for information. This is the big worry.

Or, more accurately put, I worry about the tendency for “self-restraint” among Japanese bureaucrats, government officials, politicians, industry leaders and even some in the academia here to keep disclosure of information at a minimum. Early in the crisis, for instance, the Japanese government had detailed information on radiation levels in towns near the Fukushima nuclear plant. Government officials only released the data via the Internet. The names of town were masked – reportedly to prevent mass flights of panicked people, causing “unnecessary” chaos or confusion in the society.

Similarly, in my humble opinion, Japanese consumers are as guilty as their so-called leaders.

Harmful rumors

“Fuhyo higai” is Japanese term I had never heard until I got here this time. Roughly translated as “harmful rumors,” it discourages anyone from discussing the safety of produce or products originating in affected areas. People who live in the “Fuhyo Higai” belt will be compensated by Tepco and the Japanese government. But it’s almost as though the government would prefer that people don’t know they’re victims until they get their compensation. I understand the need to keep “harmful rumors” from running rampant. But the Japanese consumers and the Japanese press are turning common sense into a moratorium on tough questions. It’s almost eerie.

I can live with fewer pachinko parlors and vending machines on the streets in Japan – both of which were labeled power hogs by the governor of Tokyo. I am OK with fewer neon signs in the Ginza; I am certainly for Japanese companies closing their offices at 4:30 p.m. so that they can turn off lights, sending employees home early and allowing them to work from home. Flex-time might even catch on in Japan.

The Japanese auto and auto-parts manufacturers decided to close on Thursdays and Fridays, operating instead on Saturdays and Sundays from July to September to limit power use during the midweek peak.

Because of the damage to power plants in the eastern part of the country, the government has set a target to cut electricity use by manufacturers by 15% this summer, when demand normally picks up with air-conditioner usage. Certain industries deemed critical to the Japanese economy – such as Japan’s semiconductor sector – are exempt from the regulation. But the nation is united behind the 15 percent conservation target. Most experts I talked to remain confident that Japan can stay in business without any serious power interruptions through the summer.

The Japanese are great at setting, communicating and achieving goals like that 15-percent cut. In contrast, we tend not to discuss, or make plans, or even face up to issues — like the nuclear mess in Fukushima — that require solutions more complicated than the March of Dimes. So, as we worry mutely about Fuhyo-Higai, deplore speculation, and tut-tut worst-case scenarios, little is said in public.

The silence is deafening.

It extends to the big uncertainty about the next big quake. What’s the worst that could happen?

Everyone knows the answer: Tokyo. Masaya Ishida, publisher of EE Times Japan, along with 13 million other people, lives here. He said, “The problem is that we don’t know when the next big one will hit us. It can be three years from now, or 300 years.”

Quiet, Ishida-san! If we don’t talk about it, maybe it will go away.