Abstract
Mindy Kay Bricker (Ed.), The Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Disaster: Investigating the Myth and Reality, by the Independent Investigation Commission on the Fukushima Nuclear Accident (1st ed.). Abingdon, Oxon and New York: Earthscan/Routledge, 2014, 298 pp. (ISBN: 978-0-415-71393-1 [HB, US$ 145]; 978-0-415-71396-2 [PB, US$ 39.95])
The world is only now beginning to understand the extent of the catastrophe that unfolded as a result of the 11 March 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami. The resultant events at the gravely damaged Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant are similarly becoming better understood as inquiries are made into the situational components that led to the plant’s downfall, and specifically how industry and government contributed to the creation of a technological and societal disaster.
The Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Disaster: Investigating the Myth and Reality, by the Independent Investigation Commission on the Fukushima Nuclear Accident, has as its stated goal the gathering of ‘unfiltered expressions of the accident’, to create a ‘set of oral histories that exposes the expectations and pressures that led to unquestioned belief in the safety of nuclear power plants in Japan’ (p. xli). This English translation examines the events of the plant’s response within the context of Japanese regulation of nuclear power generation. The text describes the intricate interplay between various public and private sector actors, from cabinet-level officials to regulatory and advisory agencies at cross-purposes with one another, to the Tokyo Electric Power Company (TEPCO), and academia—what the book calls the nuclear village. The book is notably effective in portraying the systemic failure of highly technical industrial and regulatory apparatus, breakdowns in communication and a peculiar arrogance and secrecy in an industrial–governmental relationship evidencing regulatory capture. The issuance of this text is significant because there is much to learn about what happened at Fukushima Daiichi, and this knowledge may prevent future disasters.
The account begins with a harrowing prologue and diary of the Fukushima Daiichi response, examining the events of 11–16 March 2011 from multiple perspectives. The book then provides context to the events of the immediate aftermath, delivering an account of Japanese nuclear energy development, the various actors engaged in the system of the nation’s energy governance structure, international considerations, accident preparations at Fukushima, the impact of the event upon the environment, and the sufficiency of disaster communications. The book concludes with lessons learned that may resonate with industrial and governmental interests in nuclear power applications elsewhere, and under similarly difficult circumstances.
The events at Fukushima Daiichi represent a tragic lapse in imagination to consider the extent of potential calamity. This book reveals that the failures here were underlain by negligence, which makes the case all the more tragic. When the Japanese Nuclear Safety Commission ruled out the possibility of prolonged power loss in its standards, and given that the external threat of extreme tsunami on nuclear facilities was known to TEPCO well before the Tōhoku earthquake but considered beyond the realm of expectation, a high-level nuclear accident became possible. Contamination from this event displaced 150,000 people, and as many as 30 million could have been under imminent threat from a worst-case scenario at the plant. The Fukushima Daiichi case study is an interesting test of Charles Perrow’s theories on system complexity leading to disaster, or the importance of safety culture in creating an environment that may resist, or at least minimize, accidents. The book reveals that the organizational culture at TEPCO, facilitated by a pervasive myth of safety, likely prevented the nuclear safety programme from improving; even the suggestion that improvement was possible was suspect. Officials and government agencies abetted this culture of indomitability.
A major theme of the text was an absence of regulatory strength, eventually leading to a disaster exacerbated by personality-driven glitches and systems failures. Perhaps the greatest breakdown was government’s missed opportunity to take an independent, critical look at the industry’s practices and the potential for enhancement. Regulatory strength was needed as a check on business in service to the public interest. Industry and politics, reliant upon one another, may serve each other’s narrow concerns but fail to serve the public interest. Business may seek to avoid regulation, capturing lawmakers and regulatory agencies to reduce the burdens on industry, but the end result is that there are bound to be failures in safety. In March 2013, TEPCO admitted that the disaster at Fukushima Daiichi was human-generated. TEPCO had escaped little by coaxing a favourable regulatory environment for itself; the firm added to its own woes while increasing the threat to public health. While regulation does have impacts on business that affect the bottom line, what may be labelled as impossible contingencies might also become the root of the next technological disaster. The book nimbly explains this context.
The authors correctly note that ‘this was an accident that could have happened at anytime, anywhere in the world’ (p. 175). What happened to TEPCO and the Japanese government could occur again, in the nuclear power industry or any other industry where regulation in the public interest has been supplanted in favour of pretensions to business-friendliness or efficiency. In a classic example of regulatory capture, the agencies responsible for regulating the burgeoning Japanese nuclear power business were co-opted by industry interests. Rather than engaging itself critically and in a manner that encouraged problem solving, the pro-industry nuclear village avoided the serious issues faced by the industry, in a misguided effort to shore up the legitimacy of questionable policy and regulatory choices.
Public communications were another major theme of the text. Leading up to the event, there was a pronounced information asymmetry between cheap and safe nuclear power and informed consent from the public about the dangers of nuclear plants. For its part, the Japanese public generally was lulled into a false sense of security by this safety myth, and largely supported the nuclear programme. After the tsunami hit, official communications were neither well prepared nor forcefully delivered. Shuffling of high-level officials and unclear responses about the risks posed by the event made a bad situation worse. An information vacuum saw, for example, provision of radiation level information by citizens, rather than the government. Government sites, such as the cabinet’s Twitter feed, did not respond to inquiries and acted as post-only bulletin boards. With the changes in social media, information about what was occurring with the event was moving quickly, and the government appeared to lack control. Categorical statements made by officials were sometimes false; for example, in the immediate aftermath of the events at the plant, a cabinet official proclaimed that ‘there are no immediate risks to health’ (p. 141). This inexcusably raised public anxiety and undermined efforts to right the situation.
The text illustrates a variety of lessons which, properly applied, may have prevented or at least minimized the technological and societal disaster at Fukushima Daiichi. The authors suggest that TEPCO chose, through its bureaucratic approaches to regulatory compliance, ‘to collect information in order to institute moderate safety provisions—an objective that is not quite the same thing as proving definitively that all requisite safety measures are fully in place’ (p. 95). However, it is questionable whether total compliance would be possible even if the utility was motivated to achieve it; the complexity of ensuring the safety of nuclear power generation with 100 per cent assurance is perhaps beyond the bounds of reasonableness. Given that, we have no reason to expect that any nuclear plant is 100 per cent safe or totally impervious in a world given to incalculable and unexpected risks. In speaking categorically about the failure in Japan that led to disaster at Fukushima Daiichi, the authors perhaps stretch too far in their expectations that such total accountability would ever be possible anyplace, in high technology applications. This is a small critique on what is otherwise a fascinating view of this event.
A primary lesson of the text is that the time to be responsive to threats, natural or human-made, and to bridge understanding between business and government’s need to regulate in the public interest, is before a disaster. The story stands as a stark warning to highly specialized businesses that believe in a myth of safety, and to governments who fail to regulate in the public interest. It is written with a vital style that is suspenseful and immediate. This book offers insight for businesses planning for emergency responses in technical environments, readers interested in studying the interactions of business and government in crises, and students of emergency management, while also providing general readers an inside view of one of the greatest technological disasters of our time.
