This past 11th of March 2020 was the 9th anniversary of the 2011 Fukushima Daiichi nuclear accident. Fears of radiation from the triple meltdown led to the long-term relocation of over 100,000 people. In a landmark study completed in late 2017, a group of UK scientists set out to find the truth about the risk of nuclear. They showed that not only was the scale of this relocation far too large, but that the evacuation itself led to thousands of unnecessary deaths from mental and physical exhaustion.

Despite initial interest from UK and US authorities, little has changed in the way governments plan to deal with future nuclear accidents. In this deep-dive interview with the group’s lead author, I look at why, almost a decade on, governments, regulators and the nuclear industry are so resistant to change, and whether this means we might be sleepwalking into another nuclear public health disaster.

Key points

For those short on time, here are the key take-aways:

• Between 5 and 10 times too many people were moved away from the Chernobyl area between 1986 and 1990
• No one should have been evacuated from Fukushima due to radiation
• If Japan and Germany had reduced coal instead of nuclear after Fukushima, they could have together prevented about 28,000 air pollution-induced premature deaths
• There were 1,121 deaths in the first 3 years from physical and mental exhaustion in Fukushima evacuees, which translates to an average loss of life expectancy from being evacuated greater than the loss of life expectancy people would have incurred by staying put
• Loss of life expectancy in worst-affected Fukushima town less than that experienced by Londoners due to air pollution
• The J-value provides an ethical and mathematically rigorous way to make decisions about what to do during and after a nuclear accident.
• Remediation and food bans are good value for money
• The presumption that long term relocations are a good policy tool needs re-evaluating

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The tsunami turned to rubble whole towns like Rikuzentakata, Iwate.

The 11th of March, 2011, felt like any other Friday in Ishinomaki, Miyagi Prefecture, Japan. In a town known for its oysters, local fishermen rose early to put to sea. Shopkeepers busied themselves with the end of week trade. Office workers sat at their computer screens. At the Okawa elementary school, children practiced their reading and recited their times tables, awaiting the school bell that would announce the weekend. But the school bell never did ring that day, and it hasn’t rung since.

At 14:46 JST a magnitude 9.0–9.1 earthquake occurred 70 km off the coast of Oshika Peninsula. It was the most powerful ever recorded in Japan, and the fourth most powerful ever recorded anywhere in the world. The earthquake moved the main island of Japan 2.4 m to the east, and shifted the whole Earth up to 25 cm on its axis.

More destructive than the earthquake itself was the ensuing tsunami, whose waves reached 40.5 m high, traveled at speeds of 700 km/h and raced up to 10 km inland. Those living close to the sea had little time to react following the earthquake before raging torrents of water, mud and debris engulfed them.

Ishinomaki was one of the worst-affected areas. Along with most of the town, Okawa school was completely destroyed. 74 out of a total of 108 students lost their lives, along with 10 out of the 13 teachers.

The 2011 Tōhoku earthquake and tsunami was a disaster of epic proportions. It killed around 19,000 people and forced the evacuation of hundreds of thousands more. Roads and rail were destroyed. Power lines were toppled, water supply and sewage treatment lost. Schools, workplaces and most government services ceased to operate. Despite this, most of the world associates but one word with this disaster: Fukushima.

The Fukushima Daiichi accident