Fukushima: 5. Invisible enemy
27:10 Share

Dramas. Immersive storytelling from the BBC World Service. Previously on Fukushima. Why isn't the temperature going down, Saito? These numbers mean not enough water. Is there a leak in the pipe? Bending team. We're ready, sir. Know it all. You are 23. You have a baby. You are going home. Sir, I trained on Unit 3. There's only one pipe that could be leaking and I know where it is.

Matsui-san. Yes, Prime Minister. Why do I have the feeling I don't know half of what I need to know about radiation? The American Embassy has just told U.S. nationals to evacuate 100 kilometers. We're still at 20. Sir, with respect, the evacuation of citizens... Don't you dare tell me this is not TEPCO's business. It's your power station. Do your job.

Fukushima, Episode 5

At 6 o'clock in the morning on Tuesday 15th March, Prime Minister Naoto Kan and his special adviser arrive at the headquarters of TEPCO, the Tokyo Electric Power Company, in downtown Tokyo.

All senior management are assembled. The meeting is being relayed by satellite link to plant manager Masao Yoshida at the Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant in Fukushima. From this moment, I am setting up a joint command center to ease communications between TEPCO and my office. It will be led by special advisor, Koshi Hosono, who will keep me abreast of all developments. What we do now...

Right now, we'll decide whether we are saved or destroyed. You cannot withdraw quietly and watch this from afar. Such an act would bring... To withdraw now would bring shame on this company and would result in its inevitable dissolution. You are...

What's going on there? Yoshida-san, can you hear me? I'm sorry, I can't talk now, Prime Minister. We're in a state of emergency here. What's happening? Explosion in Unit 4. When he learns about the explosion in Unit 4, Prime Minister Naoto Kan returns to his office and expands the evacuation radius to 30 kilometres from the power plant. Beyond that radius, people are told to stay at home and seal their windows.

This was deeply troubling, Akiko-san. Unit 4 could not be compromised. I believe Yoshida said in his deposition that it was his nightmare scenario. But why, exactly? I know the spent fuel pools were there, but it can't be worse than a reactor core. Because the word spent doesn't sound very menacing. Okay, this is very important.

Nuclear fuel is in fact made of hundreds of small uranium pellets encased in a zirconium rod. Hundreds of these rods make up a fuel assembly, and hundreds of fuel assemblies make up a reactor. But you are quite right. Spent is not a good word. What spent means is that the uranium is no longer at optimum radioactivity for a reactor. Right.

So it gets taken out and stored in the pools to cool? To cool and to decay, yes. For how long? Ten or so years. It depends on the rod. And after that, it's no longer radioactive? Uranium rods have a half-life of between 10,000 to 24,000 years. What? Yes. So...

That means a fuel rod that is at half-life today... It could have been made sometime in the Upper Paleolithic period. Cave paintings. And how bad will exposure to these rods be? Before it goes in a reactor, a rod gives off no more radiation than a banana. But once reaction starts, it's lethal in minutes. Picture an airport runway, two kilometers long. You are standing at one end.

You're young, fit, absolutely no health issues. Beautiful. You're not making this easy for me, Suto-san. But okay. At the other end of this runway is a fully active fuel rod pellet. Just a pellet. About two centimeters in length and less than one centimeter in diameter. Yes? Yes. Your goal is to run as fast as you can towards the pellet and touch it. Right. Okay.

The first 500 meters would be fine, but past that point, you'd start feeling hot and would develop a crippling headache. As you approach 1 kilometer, you would probably start bleeding from the nose. Approximately 700 meters from the palate, your nervous system would be completely compromised and your hair would start to fall out. 200 meters from the palate,

Legions would spread over your skin and your blood would start to boil. And even if you managed to keep running, you would collapse in a heap 100 meters from your destination. Suto-san, that was very theatrical. Pour me another cup and I'll tell you what happens if you eat one. So...

How many of these pellets were in the pool of Unit 4? 60 or 70 million. So you see, if the water boiled away in a fire, or the pool cracked in an explosion, and the rods cascaded into the containment building, that would be the equivalent of about 10 simultaneous Chernobyl explosions.

Japan and a large part of eastern China would be uninhabitable for thousands of years. Suto-san, your roof is leaking. I have strategically placed pots. Can't you see? Did you do no work on this house at all when you moved in? Only what was necessary. You don't think fixing a leaking roof is necessary? I usually have enough pots. Because fixing something is admitting there's a problem.

Is that it? I'm a typical man to the bitter end, as you said. Can you answer a radiation question for me? I've got a lot more to learn, but I can certainly try. Does rain increase or decrease radiation? It's best not to get caught in it. The raindrops pick up atmospheric radionuclides and deposit them where they land. I think it's called rainout.

So after the rain, there's less in the air. But more on the surfaces. That's what I thought. The ground, your roof, your strategically placed bowls, the topsoil. That's what all those black bags in the fields are full of. Radioactive topsoil.

That's why the farmers struggle to produce crops within the guidelines. They have to keep removing the topsoil. What a fruitless struggle. Why do they do it? Do what? Grow crops. They know they can't sell. Throw 80% of their fish back in the sea. Why make your life so hard?

This is their home. Don't you think it's natural that after a trauma you might want to go back to the place where you were happy? Even if that place is the trauma? The trauma was the disaster, not the house. But the disaster took the house. They're living in the modified shipping containers. I don't know. All I know is they are here. Not many of them. Not enough of them to bother helping? No.

Should we all pack up and leave? There's nothing for you here. Just anger. What's wrong with anger? Well, who are you anger with? Me? You? Yes, I suppose. Your former employer, everyone. Your friend, the Prime Minister and his evacuation plan. Because that's the reason I'm here, really, isn't it?

I think you must have fallen under his spell five years ago, Suto-san, because you're talking about him as if he's some misunderstood hero. I don't think I am. But isn't it fair to say that had he stayed in the NERH, or at least visited it from time to time, instead of surrounding himself with old university cronies, he would have realised that because of the wind, he was evacuating people towards the radiations.

instead of away from it. Prime Minister Naotokan admitted that was an error. Well, that's very courageous of him. When did he do that? On a book tour? You know, when I first arrived here, I thought it would be a good idea to meet with former mayors and civic leaders to try and understand what happened to the people here.

And what did you discover? That they were a little more immune to Naoto-Kan's charms. Mr. Mayor, you can't just draw your own lines. It throws my evacuation plan into disarray. Prime Minister, your evacuation plan is the disarray.

Where were you four days ago when I started waiting for word? Nami is less than 10 kilometers from the plant, sir. Did you forget us? Of course I didn't forget you! A full day went by with no word before I drew my own lines as you put it. Yes, I evacuated my people. I brought them here to Tsushima because the winter winds usually blow south.

Now I understand that they were blowing north-west. Do you have a map, sir? The System for Prediction of Environmental Emergency Dose Information, known as SPEEDI, is software designed to predict the dispersal of radioactive substances in case of a nuclear emergency. The government's use, misuse or lack of use of the SPEEDI data is a contested issue that remains largely unresolved to this day.

What is known is that the speedy data was indicating that the wind from the southeast was blowing the radiation northwest, towards the evacuation zones. Also known is that the Ministry of Economy, Trade and Industry had been receiving this information since the first few hours of the disaster. The radiation was being blown...

directly at us and you knew that? I assure you that I did not know that. Oh, of course you say that. You are a politician. This has obviously been a terrible lapse in communication. One I am attempting to rectify. Well, now you know. What about the Everkeys coming right now from the south?

Where there is no radiation, have you told them? Mr. Mayor, I will get to the bottom of this. Shame on you. Shame on all of you. Blood is on your hands, Prime Minister.

Are you absolutely sure the mayor said, blood on your hands? As sure as I need to be. Ah, that's a journalist speaking. What do you find so hard to believe? Well, firstly, that a mayor would ever say such a thing to a prime minister. Why? Because we're all supposed to bow down and not argue, like in the good old days? The days when young people didn't question their elders and subordinates just shut up and did as they were told?

For a while, that felt like it was changing, but you can already feel it creeping back. Feel what? Reactors reopening, school visits, propaganda. They just increased the acceptable radiation level to 20 medisivets per year here. Do you know what it is in the rest of the country? One. And all so they can get their Olympic torch moment and talk about how united we are.

Meanwhile, the government still won't compensate doctors for haemorrhages because radiation illnesses don't officially exist. Do you want to hear the exhaustive list of illnesses they can get compensated for? Nervousness. That's it. And now we're supposed to embrace TEPCO as some sort of eco-warrior. TEPCO renewable, TEPCO sustainable. How could you have been a part of this?

You literally have radiation dripping through your roof. That's why I don't understand about you. You're a good man, Suto-san. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression. You never saw your company for what it was? What it was, was my employer. They paid me. They gave me a life. A good living.

And you don't walk away from a company that provides for you. Even if the company is morally repugnant to you. It wasn't morally repugnant to me, Akiko-san. Stop confusing me with you. You know the expression, you're the company you keep. Well, you are also the company you work for. And they are you. You still believe that? After all this...

Tepco represents the best of you, Suto-san. I don't know. I certainly used to, but... When my wife Yoko died, things changed. She died only two years after the disaster. I became a managing executive. Less work, more money. I had too much time to think, perhaps.

I heard words coming out of my mouth that even I didn't agree with. I tried to placate myself with assurances such as I wasn't in the room at the time or I wasn't party to those discussions, but it didn't help. What discussions? Oh, so many discussions, Akiko-san. If only you knew. I want to know.

Do you remember how quickly blame was shifted to the tsunami and how the narrative was nobody could have possibly predicted and so on? Absolutely rubbish. I've already told you that since at least 2006, we'd known. And I mean TEPCO, the Nuclear Industrial Safety Agency and the ministry. We'd known perfectly well that a tsunami could cause a station blackout.

Of course we knew. The generators were in the basement. A three-year-old could understand that. And despite what you may have heard, the Dice plant did not withstand the earthquake.

In fact, it was barely even quake-proof. It repeatedly failed tests and was required to upgrade by 2009. But when 2009 came, we just moved the deadline to 2016. The safety agency didn't complain. The ministry said nothing. Of course, no significant work had been done. None.

Falsified reports, faked data, forged signatures. 50 reactors built along some of the world's most seismically volatile coastline, and hardly any of them reached the 600-gal yield strength guideline. The Deutsch plant scored 265, which was lamentably low.

And you knew all about this? Anyone involved in nuclear did. Submitting false technical data and maintenance reports was our speciality, but we were by no means limited to that. We had talents in editing video evidence from incidents, issuing gag orders, pinning non-disclosure agreements to hospital receipts.

And all of this under the eyes of the regulators? Guidance, Akiko-san. Under the guidance of. Nisa would cook up their conclusions and ask us to write the appropriate report to back them up. How far back does this go? From my first day, at the very least, but no doubt before.

And the government did nothing. Yes. Every now and then, there'd be a scandal. But it was always limited in scope. Every time a few resignations and heartfelt apologies for betraying the public trust. Every time a return to business as usual.

What surprised me is that this is all public record, Akio-san. You're learning nothing from me that you couldn't from the internet. The Tokyo Electric Power Company has admitted to over 200 proven cases of fraudulent documentation. But how many people actually know this? Did you? No, not all of it. Did you do anything good during all of this?

Anything you were proud of? Proud of? No. Good? Yes. One thing. On the afternoon of the 15th of March, plant manager Yoshida's earlier decision to mix the seawater with boron begins to have an impact. Boron slows reactivity, which in turn brings down the temperature of the water, reduces the amount of steam and lowers pressure.

the faint possibility that the disaster might be contained starts to spread among the remaining employees at the plant. Yes, yes, OK. Quiet down. I have a headache.

We may have solved one problem, but we still have another 400. So keep watching the numbers, please. And we just take it step by step. No harm in celebrating a little, Yoshi. It's the first good news they've had in 72 hours. None of this is good news, Saito. We're still sitting on three melting reactors. This is Saito. Yes? Thank you. What is it? Fire in Unit 4. Fire in Unit 4.

The fire in Unit 4 puts Yoshida in an impossible predicament, as he lacks the equipment to deal simultaneously with the fires, the reactors and the fuel rod pools. To make matters worse, a hydrogen explosion rocks Unit 2 shortly afterwards. From emergency headquarters, urgent calls are made all over the private sector asking for aid. I need you to understand something, Colonel.

I am ordering you to release that equipment from Hitachi. And if that poses a procedural problem for you, I frankly couldn't care less. You go ahead and write whatever report you wish. I'll sign it. Thank you. Barack Obama is still waiting. I can't talk to him now. Sheila on line two? Sheila, remind me. The industrial pumps. Right, yes. Hello, Khan here. What? Who want to let you? Okay, thank you. Ogawa, do you have the Ministry of Transport on the phone there? Give it to me.

This is the Prime Minister. Who am I talking to? Listen to me very carefully. There is an industrial pump owned by the German company Schiller, currently docked at Otsu, bound for Vietnam. I have ordered this pump to be diverted to Fukushima, and they tell me you have sent them release documentation by post? Have you no pigeons left? I don't care, you idiot! That equipment is leaving within the hour. Do I make myself clear?

The one good thing I did was pass on a message from a private engineering company offering to ship their mobile cranes direct to the plant. This meant that the special defense forces at the plant would be able to get over the containment buildings to hose down the fuel load pools and the fires in reactors 3 and 4. That's good, no? Oh yes, it was good.

The ability to douse both the fires and the fuel rod pools from above for the first time has an immediate impact.

The special defence force helicopters continue to dump sand and boron on Unit 3. The fire trucks continue to pump seawater into the reactors. Temperature and pressure begin to drop in the containment vessels, and the situation slowly appears to be stabilising.

What do you mean, it nearly saved you? When we heard the fires were out, the helicopter water drops were working. When we heard some power had been restored on the 16th, when we heard the fuel rod pools were safe on the 17th,

When we won, Akiko-san, I jumped up with the rest of them, clasped people in my arms and cheered. And for a brief moment, I managed to convince myself that I had had something to do with it. That history would indeed see me as one of the men who saved Japan. Akiko-san, where is the honor in saving someone from a situation you put them in?

I've stopped recording. I'd forgotten you were... Suto-san, perhaps you should go to bed. Come on. Which way is your room? Upstairs. Your room is down there, down the hall. Fresh bedding in the cupboard. Okay. Please don't clean anything. Don't worry. You should see my apartment.

You are remarkable, Carl Akiko. And you can out-drink an executive. Okay. Here we go. Why did you put your bed under the window? I like the view. Black bags...

Oh, yes. And you shouldn't be up here. You're in the worst place. Outside, radiation comes from the ground up. Inside, it's the reverse. It's from the top down. You should sleep away from the windows on the ground floor. In the middle of the room, if possible. Akiko-san, please stop. Can't. You can. I'll see you in the morning. Did I help you? I'm sorry?

With your dissertation, I hope I helped. Yes. Get some sleep. Oh, Sunday tomorrow. Family day. Any plans? Huh? You? You and I are going for a drive. Good night, Suto-san. Good night.

In the next episode of Fukushima... We just went down and turned the valves. It has nothing to do with who's brave or who's a coward, but I get the thank yous, and Hideyoshi Yosaki gets the averted eyes because his team didn't succeed. The radiation levels were too high and he ordered his partner to turn back. He has to live with the shame of that while everybody wants to shake my hand.

Why do you seek forgiveness? I'm the one whose job it was to make sure the disaster couldn't happen. I am Tepco. Do you know how rare you are?

The women at the lab have been on the phone to TEPCO nearly every day for the last 10 years, bargaining with them for equipment, haggling for parts, listening to their cold, indifferent attitude towards what they did. And then here you are, with all this information, and you won't speak up? I know you feel that pain, and you won't even try?

The director is Sasha Yevtushenko and the producer is Toby Swift.

Fukushima from the BBC World Service is a BBC Audio production.