Rememberance and Reflection

Rememberance
One year ago yesterday, on March 11, 2011 at 14:46 an earthquake, the most powerful ever to hit Japan, measuring an incredible 9.0, struck off the northeast coast of Japan, an earthquake so monstrous, it shifted the planet off its axis. The tectonic "snap" lifted an 8-meter column of water from the cold depths of the Pacific Ocean and hurled a towering tsunami wave at the coastline of Japan. The wall of water struck with irresistible force, overwhelming sea walls, tree barriers, schools and residences across almost 550 km of coastline. The videos of that surge remain indelible in our memories. A nuclear power plant built to withstand a tsunami of 6 meters was inundated by the surge of ocean water 15 meters high. An elementary school in Ishinomaki lost 74 pupils; 10 teachers were also killed. The students' parents, away at work, survived; some lost all their children. The highest recorded inundation reached over 38 meters (125 ft) up the hillsides.
The coastline was devastated; entire villages were washed away (check Google Earth for Ishinomaki and then scroll up or down the coast). To date, 15,848 people are confirmed dead with another 3,305 missing. An additional 6,011 were injured. To put this in an American perspective, Hurricane Katrina, one of the worst natural disasters in US history, killed 1,836 people, and America's population is 2.46 times as large as Japan's.
Imagine an earthquake and tsunami, striking the coastal areas of the Pacific Northwest, killing 38,986 people, injuring 14,787, and leaving 8,130 unaccounted for. Rikuzentakata, a coastal city of 23,302 was washed off the map by the tsunami (4th picture down). 7.1% of its population was killed. This would be the equivalent of the city of Shoreline near Seattle, population 53,190, being swept away with 3,776 dead.
Fukushima Prefecture, hard hit by the tsunami, was further devastated by the nuclear disaster. Fukushima's population of 2,028,752 would put it in the same equivalent-size range as a state of around 5 million in the US (Colorado). After the nuclear accident, people were evacuated from a 20 kilometer zone and from an additional "plume affected" area. Fukushima was Japan's number one producer of peaches, and also well-known for many other agricultural and seafood products. Although only a relatively small area was directly contaminated by the nuclear plants, any product labeled "Fukushima" might as well have a skull and cross bones on it today. The prefecture's entire agricultural business, fishing industry, and every other product has fallen under deep suspicion. Even manufactured articles – household goods, auto parts – need to come with a seal of inspection for radiation. Despite agencies confirming the safety of many items, nobody outside Fukushima will buy them. Imagine Oregon (somewhat smaller relative population of 3.8 million) shut down virtually overnight with no rebound in sight. Oregon beef, dairy, forestry and fisheries products, wine, manufactured electronics, even mined products, all being shunned by the rest of the nation. What are the people who live there to do?
Recovery has been proceeding apace, resulting in a mini-boom in larger urban hubs like Sendai, but for the many small coastal towns like Rikuzentakata the disaster was an existential calamity. Its aging and declining population from a high in 1970 of about 30,000 to 23,302 before the tsunami was typical of outlying rural areas in Japan. The tsunami swept away everything in the city, forcing those who survived to move into shelters and then "temporary" housing. Houses cannot be rebuilt on the ravaged land and there is too little space on higher ground to relocate everyone. Over the past year, those who are young and have families have trickled away to find work, taking away the group who would be the city's only hope for revitalization. Across the area, the total number of people living in "temporary" housing as a result of the disaster is almost 350,000. In American terms this would be in excess of 860,000 people... a year after the disaster. Many of them will never go "home" again.
Reflection
Recollecting my own experience in driving over to the tsunami-hit areas 12 days after – two disaster researchers and loads of goods for friends in back – I am still struck by the remembered images: the hopeless, several kilometer-long lines at the gas stations, people standing bewildered in front of shuttered supermarkets, razed towns. I recollect how even on this side of Japan, unaffected by earthquake or tsunami, the shelves in the supermarkets were suddenly emptied of so many items, gasoline was rationed, and other supplies were hard to find.
We live on a precarious edge with civilization. Nature's caprice can bring us down so easily. I do not dig the dirt to plant my food. Nor do I walk a kilometer or two to collect water for my family everyday. We even flush our toilets with drinking water; we are fantastically rich.
And yet, come disaster, we face the reality of having to live without the support our society provides. The "we are all in it together" spirit is a powerful thing – share and share alike – but how close we live to the precipice when there is nothing to share. I remember the awful tragedy a year ago and reflect on my own vulnerability. I feel grateful for my fellow humans around to support me, the comfort of my own, warm house, the preciousness of clean water, hot food. Everything else pales into insignificance.