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The Asia-Pacific Journal | Japan Focus Volume 16 | Issue 1 | Number 1 | Jan 01, 2018 1 The Fukushima Fiction Film: Gender and the Discourse of Nuclear Containment Rachel DiNitto Abstract This article examines the systems for designating and containing both the contamination from the March 2011 Fukushima nuclear power plant (NPP) accident and the fear of radiation. This discourse of containment appears in the cinematic images of two fiction films: Land of Hope (Kibō no kuni, 2012) and The Tranquil Everyday (Odayaka na nichijō, 2012). I look at the films’ portrayals of the female characters who struggle to confirm and assess radiological danger in so-called “safe” zones. When they voice their fears and challenge the illusion of safety, they themselves are contained and made invisible by the diagnoses of radiophobia, hysteria, and paralyzing fatalism. Keywords: Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant, 3/11 fiction film, gender, radiological danger, radiophobia, containment In the aftermath of the nuclear meltdowns at the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant (NPP) in spring 2011, the Japanese government and plant owner Tokyo Electric Power Company (TEPCO) sought to contain the disaster and to allay the fears of citizens. These measures of containment took tangible, visible form as words, actions, images, and physical objects: the various designations for the evacuation areas, no entry signs, fences, barriers, protective gear, masks, and government assurances of “no immediate health risks” (tadachi ni eikyō wa nai ). 1 Yet the danger itself—radiation spewing from the plant—remained invisible. Hence these signifiers had to overcompensate for our inability to perceive the nuclear threat by attempting to mark the boundaries of the invisible. In doing so, they sought to grant a sense of security that turned out to be as false as the myth of safety surrounding Japan’s nuclear program itself. This article examines these systems of nuclear signification, specifically this discourse of containment, as it appears in two works of post-disaster Japanese cinema: Sono Sion’s Land of Hope (Kibō no kuni, 2012) and Uchida Nobuteru’s The Tranquil Everyday (Odayaka na nichijō, 2012). 2 The systems of nuclear signification are at work in both of these fiction films as characters attempt to assess the level of danger even though they are outside the official designated no-go zones. Land of Hope is set in an area designated as an evacuation zone where danger is identified, and by extension, safety ostensibly reassured. However, when the characters leave the disaster area, the boundaries become much harder to identify, with some markers disappearing altogether. Two of the characters in Land of Hope leave the disaster area, and The Tranquil Everyday takes place entirely outside of the affected zones. In these so-called “safe landscapes,” the majority of characters in the films unquestioningly accept the government assurances of safety. However, those few who do ask questions—primarily female characters—are left to make their own judgments about the dangers of radiation, which neither visibly mark the landscape nor are visibly marked by the signage and warnings of the disaster zone. Uchida Nobuteru, the director of The Tranquil

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The Asia-Pacific Journal | Japan Focus Volume 16 | Issue 1 | Number 1 | Jan 01, 2018

1

The Fukushima Fiction Film: Gender and the Discourse ofNuclear Containment

Rachel DiNitto

Abstract

This article examines the systems fordesignating and containing both thecontamination from the March 2011 Fukushimanuclear power plant (NPP) accident and thefear of radiation. This discourse of containmentappears in the cinematic images of two fictionfilms: Land of Hope (Kibō no kuni, 2012) andThe Tranquil Everyday (Odayaka na nichijō,2012). I look at the films’ portrayals of thefemale characters who struggle to confirm andassess radiological danger in so-called “safe”zones. When they voice their fears andchallenge the illusion of safety, they themselvesare contained and made invisible by thediagnoses of radiophobia, hysteria, andparalyzing fatalism.

Keywords: Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear PowerPlant, 3/11 fiction film, gender, radiologicaldanger, radiophobia, containment

In the aftermath of the nuclear meltdowns atthe Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant(NPP) in spring 2011, the Japanese governmentand plant owner Tokyo Electric PowerCompany (TEPCO) sought to contain thedisaster and to allay the fears of citizens. Thesemeasures of containment took tangible, visibleform as words, actions, images, and physicalobjects: the various designations for theevacuation areas, no entry signs, fences,barriers, protective gear, masks, andgovernment assurances of “no immediatehealth risks” (tadachi ni eikyō wa nai).1 Yet thedanger itself—radiation spewing from theplant—remained invisible. Hence thesesignifiers had to overcompensate for our

inability to perceive the nuclear threat byattempting to mark the boundaries of theinvisible. In doing so, they sought to grant asense of security that turned out to be as falseas the myth of safety surrounding Japan’snuclear program itself.

This article examines these systems of nuclearsignification, specifically this discourse ofcontainment, as it appears in two works ofpost-disaster Japanese cinema: Sono Sion’sLand of Hope (Kibō no kuni, 2012) and UchidaNobuteru’s The Tranquil Everyday (Odayaka nanichijō, 2012).2 The systems of nuclearsignification are at work in both of these fictionfilms as characters attempt to assess the levelof danger even though they are outside theofficial designated no-go zones. Land of Hope isset in an area designated as an evacuation zonewhere danger is identified, and by extension,safety ostensibly reassured. However, when thecharacters leave the disaster area, theboundaries become much harder to identify,with some markers disappearing altogether.Two of the characters in Land of Hope leavethe disaster area, and The Tranquil Everydaytakes place entirely outside of the affectedzones. In these so-called “safe landscapes,” thema jor i t y o f charac ters in the f i lmsunquestioningly accept the governmentassurances of safety. However, those few whodo ask quest ions—primar i ly femalecharacters—are left to make their ownjudgments about the dangers of radiation,which neither visibly mark the landscape norare visibly marked by the signage and warningsof the disaster zone.

Uchida Nobuteru, the director of The Tranquil

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Everyday stated his desire to focus on womenafter seeing their fear and the reactions tothem on the internet.3 His producer, SuginoKiki, who also plays Saeko in the film,concurred saying: “after the disaster, thevoices of women, who are deeply aware of thedisaster’s impact on daily life, were hardlyheard in society at all.4 Uchida’s film focusesalmost exclusively on women, and Sono alsoemphasizes the plight of the daughter-in-law inLand of Hope. When the women in these filmschallenge this system of safety by voicing fearand doubt, they are marked, and the threatthey represent is defused when they areinscribed within the language of nuclearcontainment. The women’s actions set themapart from their communities, and they arefur ther d is tanced by another set o fsignifiers—radiophobia, hysteria, andparalyzing fatalism—medical and psychologicaldiscourses used to contain dissent and denyresponsibility in the post-nuclear accidentcl imates of Hanford, Chernobyl , andFukushima.

Kristina Iwata-Weickgenannt argues in“Gendering ‘Fukushima’: Resistance, Self-Responsibility, and Female Hysteria in SonoSion’s Land of Hope” that while the genderstereotypes in Sono’s film make “his anti-nuclear criticism more socially acceptable,” hereinforces the social limits on anti-nuclearprotest that has been marked as female, andundercuts the credibility of his characters andhis message about the need to rethink thenation’s support for nuclear power.5 Iwata-Weickgenannt is interested in how the genderbias in Land of Hope subverts the film’s abilityto function as an anti-nuclear critique.6 In thisarticle, I further Iwata-Weickgenannt’sarguments about the gendered response to theFukushima disaster by considering how dangeris marked both inside and outside the disasterzone, and how the public marking of radiationin non-disaster zones is itself a dangerous actthat must be contained lest it compromise theshared public desire for a belief in safety. While

the signifiers within the disaster zone work tomake the nuclear threat visible, signifiersoutside the zone render invisible anyone whoquestions this myth of safety.

Although there are male characters in thesefilms, some of whom are also ostracized, thefocus is on women and children. By limiting thesubject in this way, these films dramatize theshift in Japanese society that turned thenuclear situation into a domestic drama.7 Thegovernment and TEPCO refused to takeresponsibility for this national problem, turningit into a dilemma for private individuals to solvethrough personal decisions about whether toevacuate, where to live, what to eat, etc.Hideaki Fujiki critiques this very logic of choicethat was forced on residents in post-disasterJapan where the government has implemented“a decontamination program that nudges theresidents to choose to remain in the 1-20mSvareas rather than leave.8 This privatization ofrisk shifts responsibility for the disaster awayf rom the government to ind iv idua lresidents.9 In these two films, the privatechoices regarding the presence of radiologicaldanger become problematic when they mark ashared public space that is assumed to be safe.

Before turning to a summary of the films, Icomment on their place within the body of post-disaster cinema in Japan. The vast majority offilms about 3/11 are documentary, including alarge number of amateur works as well asthose made by established filmmakers, such asFunahashi Atsushi, Kamanaka Hitomi, FujiwaraToshi, Mori Tatsuya, and Ian ThomasAsh.10 Fictional 3/11 films have been criticizedby f i lmmakers such as Funahashi formisrepresenting the truth of the situation, andhave courted controversy for their use ofpanoramic footage from the disaster area thathas been deemed disrespectful.11 A fullexploration of both the reason for the smallnumber of fictional 3/11 films and the abovecriticism is beyond the scope of this paper, butthe answer may also be a quest ion of

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economics and viewer expectations. As early as2012 it was said that “novels dealing with thedisaster do not sell, movies do not drawaudiences, and TV shows have low ratings.”12 Sono’s film was primarily funded with moneyfrom the UK, Taiwan, and Germany, andUchida talked about the difficulty of findingfunding in Japan.13 Do the economics ofmainstream cinema preclude fiction films aboutthe disaster, or are Japanese viewersuninterested in film as social critique, as Sonohimself suggested?14 Additionally, documentaryfilmmakers have exercised a level of ethicalrestraint that has kept them from depictingproblems in the disaster area due to thedemand for respect for their subjects that themedium imposes.15 This ethical restraint ind o c u m e n t a r y c i n e m a m a y h i n d e rrepresentations in fiction films as well.

I am interested in the fictional 3/11 filmspecifically because the limited representationof the disaster in non-documentary cinema hasnot been reproduced in other fiction-basedmedia, such as literature and manga, whichhave flourished in the wake of the disaster. Myfocus with these films is on those characterswho live outside the disaster zone, and perhapsit is the representation of less easi lyidentifiable victims in so-called “non-disaster”areas, or the discord within post-disastercommunities that presents a challenge forcinema. I argue, however, that these filmssuccessfully depict a post-nuclear disasterenvironment in which the characters struggleto assess danger in the face of challenges suchas the inv i s ib i l i t y o f rad ia t ion , theunknowability of that danger, and the desire oftheir communities to believe in governmentassurances of safety. Below is a brief summaryof the films.

Land of Hope starts with an earthquake thattriggers an explosion at the local NPP. Mr. Ono,a cattle farmer, has part of his propertycordoned off by the authorities who are settingup a 20km evacuation zone around the affected

plant. Ono’s neighbors are evacuated toshelters, but some of his property lies justoutside the perimeter. Ono orders his sonYoichi to leave the area and take his wife Izumiwith him, since she is of childbearing age andshould not stay in the irradiated environment.The film follows both Yoichi and Izumi as theystruggle to relocate, and their formerneighbors the Matsuzaki family, who areadjusting to life in the shelters. When Izumifinds out she is pregnant, she sees danger allaround. Yoichi is harassed at work for theactions his wife takes to protect herself.Meanwhile, Mr. Ono is pressured by theauthorities to leave his home, since he and hiswife are the only residents left in the area. Thefilm ends with Mr. Ono killing his cattle,himself, and his wife. Yoichi and Izumi escapeto a seemingly safe area only to find out that itis irradiated as well. This final scene makes thetitle of the film deeply ironic.

The Tranquil Everyday also begins with anearthquake and nuclear accident as it followsthe lives of two women. Yukako and herhusband Tatsuya live next door to Saeko, themother of a young girl, Kiyomi. The two womenstruggle to understand the deluge ofinformation about the nuclear disaster and tokeep their families safe. Saeko’s efforts toensure her daughter’s safety at school areblocked by a group of mothers who ridicule herand deny her fears about radiation. Houndedby hate mail and crank phone calls, abandonedby her husband, and unable to keep herdaughter safe, she is driven to an attempteddouble suicide when her daughter gets anosebleed. Yukako smells the natural gas thatSaeko left running in her apartment,courageously saves them, and then supportsSaeko’s efforts to regain custody of herdaughter. Yukako reconciles with her husband,who realizes her fears are real, and the storyends with him proposing they try again to havea baby. The final scene is of them packing uptheir apartment to move to an undisclosedlocation.

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Depicting the nuclear environment

As visual media, these films signal the presenceof an irradiated environment by means ofvisible markers: fences and cordoned zones, noentry signs, protective gear, masks, andnumerical readings on beeping Geigercounters. In Land of Hope the nuclearenvironment is represented as a space that isphysically blocked off and separated. Theresidents encounter innumerable “no entry”signs (tachiiri kinshi) and police blockades(image 1).

Image 1In one scene, the Ono family watches as theauthorities construct a fence across their land,and a later scene shows the town bisected bythese fences (image 2), a shot that referencesthe real-world consequences for towns likeNamie that were divided by the designation ofno-go zones.16

Image 2At times the characters try to break throughthese barriers, sometimes successfully, like theMatsuzaki’s son who is trying to help hisgirlfriend return to the area of her parentalhome, or the Onos, who cross the barrier tocare for their neighbor’s dog. In another scene,Mrs. Ono, who suffers from a form of dementia,wanders through the town while her husbandfrantically searches for her. Although thesecharacters enter the zone with no protectionagainst the radiation, there is also no explicitlyvoiced fear of it. The film seems to be asking: ifthe Ono’s have no need for protective gear intheir home or on their land, why would theyneed it only feet away on the other side of theno-go zone? It is not only the Onos, but thetown officials trying in vain to convince theOnos to evacuate, who are seen travelingaround the area in regular clothing, not evenwearing masks.

Although it is questionable how muchprotection masks can provide from radiologicaldanger, the non-wearing of them in thesescenes works as a performance of safety that ispuzzling. Mr. Ono is deeply skeptical of thegovernment’s assurances that life is safe on hisside of the barrier, yet he does not take anymeasures to protect himself and his wife fromthe radiation. Although he does send his sonand daughter-in-law away, Mr. Ono chooses toremain and die on his ancestral land.Cinematically these scenes of charactersroaming the no-go zone without protectionsend mixed messages: is it dangerous or not?

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The only scenes in which characters in or nearthe no-go zone wear protective gear are thoseof the authorities who construct the fenceacross the Ono’s land and evacuate theirneighbors (image 1). Besides this, the film doesnot indicate that the characters in or near thezone are in any danger of being irradiated, ineffect treating these visible barriers, and byextension the evacuation zones they mark, asmeaningless. Although the messaging in someof these scenes is unclear, ultimately the filmshows how the construction of barriers andzones serves only as false reassurance, anddoes not provide any real protection fromradiation that in reality cannot be contained.

The questioning of these barriers and theirdesignated zones references real worldcriticism of the Japanese government’sevacuation orders. The Japanese governmentinstituted a system of concentric circles as ameans of demarcating areas for evacuatingresidents based on their distance from theplant, rather than use the knowledge fromChernobyl and US nuclear testing that showedthe “uneven and patchy” nature of radiationfallout.17 The government decision to delay untilMarch 23 (12 days after the disaster) therelease of the SPEEDI (System for Prediction ofEnvironmental Emergency Dose Information)data that would have taken into account windand weather patterns is one example of thefailure of the concentric circle model ofevacuation to accurately reflect the dangers onthe ground. Some residents fleeing theradiation unknowingly moved into zones ofhigher contamination, a situation that couldhave been avoided or ameliorated by therelease of this data and by extending the unsafezones accordingly.1 8 Additionally, thegovernment decided to raise the annualexposure dosage that is considered safe,subjecting citizens to 20 times the normal riskfor those within the designated zones. Thoseoutside these official areas were not givensupport to evacuate, despite the fact that manywere in areas of higher radiation according to

SPEEDI data.19

In contrast to the situation in the evacuationzones, both fiction films emphasize the fear ofradiation on the part of characters who residein areas that are supposedly safe. These safeareas are unmarked because they are outsidethe official zones, and hence the danger isharder to identify. The spread of radiationbeyond the visible markers/boundaries of theno-go zones is a source of anxiety for thecharacters in Land of Hope and The TranquilEveryday. I focus on the women in these filmswho distrust reassurances that the radiationwill not spread, and who question thegovernment’s ability to protect them. In theface of an invisible threat, they rely oninformation found on the internet and on theirown readings of radiation levels around them toconfirm their fears. When these women takeaction to protect themselves, as describedbelow, they create their own markers of safetyand danger in an unmarked landscape, and areharassed and ostracized for doing so. When thewomen’s decisions about their private livesmark the shared, public space as unsafe, thecommunity perceives them as a threat.

In Land of Hope, Izumi’s fears peak aftertalking to a young mother at the hospital whotells Izumi the doctors found cesium in herbreastmilk even though she is not from thedisaster area and has been very careful (image3). In one scene, Izumi imagines the worldoutside as filled with red gas—as the invisibledangers of radiation are made visible and givennames like cesium (image 4).

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Images 3 and 4

She runs home, gets out her Geiger counter,and tapes her windows shut. Unclear of wherethe boundaries are, Izumi attempts to createher own “safe zone,” blocking out the dangersof the world around her by isolating herself;she seals off her apartment and wearsprotective gear, regardless of whether she isindoors or outside. The film includes scenes ofher walking down the city streets and shoppingin the supermarket dressed in full protectivegear, as the residents stare in amazement andresentment (image 5).

Image 5

Not only is Izumi’s response seen as extreme;her husband Yoichi is harassed by hiscoworkers who see Izumi’s actions as an insultto the town. When Izumi first tapes up theirapartment she tells Yoichi that moving therewas meaningless because they are still exposedto the dangers of radiation. When he countersthat the government says it is OK, she yells thatthey are fighting an “invisible war.” Hercomment functions as a self-consciousreference in the film to the very lack ofvisibility of nuclear threats.

The nuclear crisis plays out in Sono Sion’scampy, over-the-top style. But the naturalistic,albeit melodramatic, Tranquil Everydayportrays an even more extreme response to theradioactive environment. This film is setexclusively in areas that should be safe sincethey are outside of the official evacuationzones, but the dangers of contamination areseemingly ever present. In The TranquilEveryday, Yukako and Saeko experience thedisaster simultaneously, and the film cuts backand forth between the two to show theirparallel experience. Both women watch theirTVs in horror, research radiation on thecomputer, and try to convince their families totake safety measures by wearing a mask. Thewomen live next door to each other, and Uchidasets their lives on a collision course.

Yukako, who is childless and works at homedoes not feel the social pressure on Saeko, who

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has to make choices about sending herdaughter to school and allowing her to playoutside, as she deals with the effects of stateand institutional policies on perceptions ofradiation and daily life. Saeko’s public choicesto protect her daughter—making her wear amask and bring her own lunch to school—aremet with resistance and rejection by thecommunity of other mothers at the school(image 6).

Image 6

Saeko’s (and to some extent Yukako’s)predicament is reminiscent of the Chernobylsurvivors Adriana Petryna describes who aretrapped by large scale scientific studies in two“undesirable and potentially hazardous moral-conceptual states. . . The first is denial oramnesia (‘nothing happened here’). The secondis a state of constant exposure to unpredictableunknowns.”20 Surrounded by mothers who seekto maintain their belief in the visible markersthat indicate their safe remove from theradiation, Saeko is confronted by the narrativeof “nothing happened here.”21 This narrativecombines with the lack of official markers ofdanger to allow the mothers and school officialsto maintain a status quo ignorant of theradiological dangers.22 Yet, armed with someknowledge from the internet and a Geigercounter, Saeko and Yukako know that they arein “a s ta te o f cons tan t exposure tounpredictable unknowns.” In one scene,

Yukako panics and runs into the school yardpassing out masks and talking about the effectsof radiation on children after the Chernobylaccident. She is taken away by the police—herprotest criminalized and silenced. Saeko,powerless to change the world around her andhounded by community pressure to conform,takes extreme action when her daughter gets anosebleed. The nosebleed is the only visible,physical effect of radiation seen in either film.It has been a controversial visible marker ofradiation exposure in post-Fukushima Japan, asseen in the uproar over Kariya Tetsu’s inclusionof a nosebleed scene in the popular mangaseries Oishinbo.23 The scene comes after hisprotagonist visits the ailing NPP, and bothlocals and government officials criticizedKariya for spreading “harmful rumors” aboutradiation levels in the disaster area.24

In an act far more extreme than Izumi’sdonning of protective gear, Saeko turns on thenatural gas inside her apartment and tries tokill herself and her daughter. This attempteddouble suicide by an invisible gas—a poisonproduced by a utility company—works as asymbolic death by radiation. Saeko and herdaughter both live, thanks to her neighborYukako’s intervention. But Saeko, a singleparent, loses custody of her daughter, and it ishard to imagine that she will return to a normallife with Kiyomi. Life as she knew it is over. Shepays a very high price for having publiclyvoiced her fears.

Gender and radiophobia

Both films turn into domestic dramas of womenbecoming unhinged by their fears of radiation,fears that other characters in the film do notshare (at least openly), because the systems ofnuclear signification indicate that no danger ispresent. Living outside the evacuation zones,the decision to protect oneself becomes entirelypersonal and beyond the scope of eithergovernment or TEPCO responsibility. Yet,

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because the resistance offered by Izumi, Saeko,and Yukako threatens the normative discourseof safety, they must be contained by anotherset of barriers, namely a series of diagnoses. InLand of Hope, Izumi’s ob-gyn tells Yoichi thatshe su f fers f rom hōshanō kyō fushō(radiophobia) and that it could negativelyimpact her pregnancy. In The TranquilEveryday, Saeko gets hate mail which labelsher as a radiophobic, neurotic nuisance(hōshanō noirōzē meiwaku), not as someonewith valuable information to share or whosevoice in the publ ic debate should becountenanced (image 7). When Yukako is takenaway by the police, one of the mothers calls her“strange” (okashii), a comment on her non-normative, “disturbed” behavior.

Image 7

Kristina Iwata-Weickgenannt makes theconnection between Izumi’s diagnosis of“radiophobia” and the post-Fukushima bashingof “anti-nuclear activists as ‘hysterical.’”25 Butthese associations have a history that is notlimited to the Fukushima accident. The term“radiophobia” was coined by Ukrainian healthminister Anatolii Romanenko “to describeunwarranted fear and pan ic amongpopulations” due to “chronic informationalstress,” and the diagnosis was assigned toradiation victims after Chernobyl as a means toavoid taking “public responsibility” for theillnesses caused by the NPP disaster.26 Evenbefore this syndrome was officially named,those living downwind of American nuclear

testing, especially women, were told by PublicHealth Service officials “that their ‘neurosis’about the fallout was the only thing that wouldgive them cancer, particularly if they werefemale.” Manifestations of radiation sicknesswere attributed to such neuroses and labeled“housewife syndrome.”27

Saeko’s attempted double suicide can also beattributed to a “paralyzing fatalism.” Petrynareferences this term in relation to the WHO2005 Chernobyl report that argued that“persistent myths and misconceptions aboutthe threat of radiation have resulted in‘paralyzing fatalism’” “among those living inaffected areas.”28 Petryna objects to these“moral claims” about the survivors, and arguesinstead that they have been “overlooked byscience.”29 However, in The Tranquil Everydaythere is no such counter argument to defendSaeko’s actions. She is portrayed as a victim ofthis “paralyzing fatalism” that drives her toattempt a double suicide with her youngdaughter (image 8).

Image 8

Sharon Stephens reminds us that this genderbias runs throughout the nuclear industry: theInternational Commission on RadiologicalProtection (ICRP) has never had a woman ontheir commission, and the public has been longportrayed in terms of the stereotypical femininecharacteristics of irrational, uneducated,emotional, and at times hysterical behavior.30

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Beyond this medicalization, Saeko is furthercontained or discounted by the social pressurethat forces conformity, a dynamic that has beendocumented in the disaster area. Research bySlater, Morioka, and Danzuka reveals the waysthat the “micro-politics” of the family can putpressure on Fukushima mothers, especiallythose in farming communities, to remain withtheir children in the contaminated areas as partof their duties to their husbands, mothers-in-law, and extended families.31 The fears ofradiation expressed by these mothers arelabeled “damaging rumors” (fūhyō higai),discrediting both the words of dissent and thespeaker.32 The label of “rumor” is one means ofblocking the “leakage of doubt and fear” in thecontaminated area.33 Slater, Morioka, andDanzuka also discuss the ways that women whoexpress the ir fears o f rad iat ion arepathologized as having an “unstable andunreasonab le nervous persona l i t ytype.”3 4 These women’s concerns weredismissed as “irrational fears” and they werel a b e l e d a s “ c r a z y ” ( a t a m a g aokashikunatta).3 5 When Saeko has herconfrontation with the mothers at the school,they accuse her of spreading “damagingrumors.” Just as the words and images of safety“contain” the radiation, these diagnoses andlabels “contain” these women and defuse theirthreat.

The pressure on Saeko comes from the mothersat her daughter’s school, but even thesemothers are shown as harboring their ownfears about radiation. One of the mothers whoworks at the supermarket talks to Yukako aboutanother mother (Saeko) who was bullied at thedaycare, expressing her own uncertainty aboutwhat to do. Yukako tells her to wear a mask butto tell others it is for a cold, advice she takeslater in the film. Noriko, the most outspoken ofthe mothers, is married to an employee of theelectric company and seems distressed after ahushed cell phone conversation with herhusband. Noriko silences others but may beunable to express her own anxiety and perhaps

even dissent. The research of Slater et al.reveals this community silencing, and TheTranquil Everyday paints a muted, yet nuancedpicture of women both applying pressure toconform and feeling that same pressurethemselves.36

Although both films depict the societalpressures on women, neither portrays womenfinding supportive communities in which theycan express their concerns about radiation. InThe Tranquil Everyday, Saeko would seem tohave found support in Yukako, but the film endswith Yukako and her husband packing up tomove away. Sugino Kiki commented that thefilm is not about who is right or wrong, butabout allowing the expression of a range ofopinions, something she feels is lacking inJapan.37 In The Tranquil Everyday the womenmay have equal opportunity to voice theiropinions, but they do not all suffer societalcensure for having done so. Noriko’s group isnot silenced or ostracized in the same way or tothe same degree as Saeko, Yukako, or Izumiare. Some opinions are socially acceptable,while others are not. Documentary filmmakerKamanaka Hitomi puts a different spin on thedifficulties these women face in speaking out.She argues that Japanese women “are nottrained to speak out” and “have not yet growninto their voices.”38 The silencing of women inthese films is not a function of the gender ofthe filmmakers. As mentioned earlier, Suginohad a large role in the making of The TranquilEveryday, and there are instances of womenspeaking out in films like Ian Thomas Ash’s A2-B-C. If anything, the films portray the varioussocietal pressures that shut down women orlimit the topics on which are allowed tospeak.39 This runs parallel to the ways in whichanti-nuclear protests in Japan are genderedfemale, but are also depoliticized due to theemphasis on so-called domestic concerns suchas children’s safety.40

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Conclusion

Uchida Nobuteru, director of The TranquilEveryday, talked about how he saw his film asexpressing the desire to return to an everydaynormalcy that had been stolen by theFukushima accident.41 However, both filmsshow the impossibility of such a return. If areaslike those in The Tranquil Everyday are unsafe,how can areas around the plant and in thedisaster zone possibly be safe? The films depictan irradiated environment that is all aroundand is not contained by the visible barriers ofevacuation zones and no-entry signs,questioning the government’s rhetoric ofconta inment and the myth o f sa fetysurrounding nuclear power. Both argue for awider circle of victimization and in doing so,cast doubt on the government’s decision tomove residents back into the former no-gozones.

Additionally, these fiction films depict a socialenvironment where “the indeterminacy andunknowability of radiation effects is the rule.”In this environment the female protagonists areconfronted with the fabricated amnesia of“nothing happened here,” all the while fearing

they are in a state of “constant exposure” todanger. None of the women have any viableoptions to protect themselves or their children(born or unborn). To use Petryna’s words, theyare forced into a “moral calculus of risk.”42 Asdomestic dramas, these films depict theerasure of government culpability and theshifting of responsibility to individual citizens.Although The Tranquil Everyday nuances itsscenes of public silencing, in failing to showany women who are anti-nuclear activists,members of support networks, or citizenswhose contribution to public discourse isvalued, both films depict, and do little tocounter, existing stereotypes of women’s rolesin post-Fukushima accident Japan. Women likeSaeko remain isolated and silenced.

Acknowledgments: The author would like tothank University of Delaware and theAssociation of Japanese Literary Studiesconference at Pennsylvania State University forthe opportunity to present this research at anearlier stage. I also thank the reviewers fortheir insightful and helpful suggestions.

Rachel DiNitto is an associate professor of Japanese Literature at University of Oregon. Sheworks on the literary and cultural studies of Japan's prewar (1910s-1930s), and postbubbleeras (1990-2000s) including writers Uchida Hyakken and Kanehara Hitomi, manga artistMaruo Suehiro, and cult director Suzuki Seijun. She has written on the literary and cinematicresponses to the 3/11 disaster and is finalizing a book manuscript titled, “Fukushima Fiction:Literature and Disaster in Japan.”

Email: [email protected] (https://apjjf.org/mailto:[email protected])

Notes1 Japanese Chief Cabinet Secretary, Edano Yukio used this phrase on March 16 afterexplosions at reactors 1, 2, and 3 and a fire at number 4. He repeated this phrase on sevenoccasions. See Noriko Manabe, The Revolution Will Not Be Televised: Protest Music AfterFukushima (New York: Oxford University Press, 2015), 49. Also see Manabe for a list of

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officials who said the conditions were safe post-meltdown. Manabe, 125. Edano’s “tadachi”(immediate) was nominated for buzzword of the year. Manabe, 139.2 See the trailers here (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Nnt6yFyPrM) and here(https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyFC-hGm2bw)3 Odayaka na nichijō:Uchida Nobuteru (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nBMwVlP-N_s),accessed October 6, 2017.4 “Intabyū: Odayaka na nichijō, (http://eiga.com/movie/77651/interview/)” Eiga.com,December 20, 2012.5 Kristina Iwata-Weickgenannt, “Gendering ‘Fukushima’: Resistance, Self-Responsibility, andFemale Hysteria in Sono Sion’s Land of Hope,” in Fukushima and the Arts: NegotiatingNuclear Disaster, ed. Barbara Geilhorn and Kristina Iwata-Weickgenannt (London ; NewYork : New York: Routledge, 2017), 114.6 Iwata-Weickgenannt, 120.7 In Land of Hope, the patriarch Mr. Ono is a major exception to this gendered response, buthe remains in an area that is clearly marked in relation to the contaminated zone. This articlefocuses primarily on the problems women encounter well outside of the no-go zones. SeeIwata-Weickgenannt for more on the male characters in Land of Hope.8 Fujiki notes that the standard for a ‘safe area’ in post-3/11 Japan is one affected by less than20mSv of radiation, but the ICRP advises such a high level as acceptable only in “exceptionalcases.” 1mSv is the normal standard. Hideaki Fujiki, “Problematizing Life: DocumentaryFilms on the 3.11 Nuclear Catastrophe,” in Fukushima and the Arts: Negotiating NuclearDisaster, ed. Barbara Geilhorn and Kristina Iwata-Weickgenannt (London ; New York:Routledge, 2017), 92.9 Fujiki, 92. For more on the 3/11 disaster and privatization of risk, see Majia HolmerNadesan, Fukushima and the Privatization of Risk (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire:Palgrave Macmillan, 2013).10 See for example Funahashi’s Futaba kara tōku hanarete = Nuclear Nation (2012),Kamanaka’s Surviving Internal Exposure (Naibu hibaku o ikinuku, 2012) and Little Voicesfrom Fukushima (Chisaki koe no kannon - sentaku suru hitobito, 2015), Fujiwara’s No Man’sZone (Mujin chitai, 2012), Mori’s 311 (2013) and Ash’s A2-B-C (2013).11 I am thankful to Ryan Cook for this information. Sono was criticized for using such footage.For more on Sono, see Iwata-Weickgenannt, “Gendering ‘Fukushima’: Resistance, Self-Responsibility, and Female Hysteria in Sono Sion’s Land of Hope,” 112.12 Genkaiken and Iida Ichishi, “Joron hajime ni,” in Higashinihon daishinsaigo bungakuron, ed.Genkaiken (Tokyo: Nan’undō, 2017), 11.13 Odayaka na nichijō:Uchida Nobuteru. For more on the distribution of these documentaryfilms, see Fujiki, “Problematizing Life: Documentary Films on the 3.11 Nuclear Catastrophe.”14 For more on Sono’s comments see Iwata-Weickgenannt, “Gendering ‘Fukushima’:Resistance, Self-Responsibility, and Female Hysteria in Sono Sion’s Land of Hope,” 110–12.She also suggests that the influence of the nuclear village has restricted the fictionalization of3/11 in Japanese cinema.15 Fujiki, “Problematizing Life: Documentary Films on the 3.11 Nuclear Catastrophe,” 106.16 Namie was divided into three evacuation zones. “Fukushima’s Namie Sees No-Go ZoneDesignation Lifted

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(http://www.japantimes.co.jp/news/2013/04/01/national/fukushimas-namie-sees-no-go-zone-designation-lifted/),” The Japan Times Online, April 1, 2013.17 Sarah Phillips, “Fukushima Is Not Chernobyl? Don’t Be so Sure,(http://somatosphere.net/2013/03/fukushima-is-not-chernobyl-dont-be-so-sure.html)”Somatosphere: Science, Medicine, Anthropology (blog), March 11, 2013. Philips questionswhy the Japanese government did not apply the knowledge from Chernobyl and US nucleartesting about the “uneven and patchy” nature of radiation fallout in order to map theevacuation zones “according to the actual radiological data.” The concentric circle model isstandard for nuclear evacuation zones.18 The Japanese government released this data to the US military on March 14, nine daysearlier. Phillips.19 The Japanese government raised the acceptable level for annual individual radiationexposure from 1mSv pre-3/11 to 20mSv after the disaster. Phillips; Gabrielle Hecht, “NuclearJanitors: Contract Workers at the Fukushima Reactors and Beyond(http://apjjf.org/2013/11/1/Gabrielle-Hecht/3880/article.html),” The Asia-Pacific Journal 11,no. 1.2 (January 14, 2013); Vincenzo Capodici and Shaun Burnie, “Reassessing the 3.11Disaster and the Future of Nuclear Power in Japan: An Interview with Former Prime MinisterKan Naoto (http://apjjf.org/2016/18/Capodici.html),” trans. Richard Minear, The Asia-PacificJournal 14, no. 18.1 (September 15, 2016); Adriana Petryna, Life Exposed : Biological Citizensafter Chernobyl (Princeton University Press, 2002), xxiii.20 Petryna, Life Exposed, xxvii.21 Petryna, xix.22 Yukako’s husband Tatsuya is also silenced by his boss who uses similar arguments todismiss Tatsuya’s request for a job transfer to Kansai, saying the government has assured usthe radiation will do no harm.23 Lorie Brau, “Oishinbo’s Fukushima Elegy: Grasping for the Truth About Radioactivity inFood Manga,” in Fukushima and the Arts: Negotiating Nuclear Disaster, ed. Barbara Geilhornand Kristina Iwata-Weickgenannt (London ; New York: Routledge, 2017), 177–98; EiichiroOchiai, “The Manga ‘Oishinbo’ Controversy: Radiation and Nose Bleeding in the Wake of 3.11(http://www.japanfocus.org/-Eiichiro-Ochiai/4138),” The Asia-Pacific Journal 11, no. 25.4 (June23, 2014).24 Filmmaker Funahashi Atsushi spoke in Kariya’s defense. See Funahashi Atsushi, “’Oishinbo’no hanaji mondai: teki o miayamatte wa ikenai(http://www.huffingtonpost.jp/atsushi-funahashi/oishimbo_b_5313031.html),” Hafinton posuto,May 12, 2014.25 Iwata-Weickgenannt, “Gendering ‘Fukushima’: Resistance, Self-Responsibility, and FemaleHysteria in Sono Sion’s Land of Hope,” 122–23.26 Petryna, Life Exposed, 160, 177. See Petryna’s quote from forensic psychiatrist OleksandrTolkach about the implementation of this new term and its use in solving “all emerging socialproblems” (177).27 Carole Gallagher, American Ground Zero: The Secret Nuclear War (Cambridge, Mass: TheMIT Press, 1993), xxx. I am grateful to Norma Field for this reference.28 Petryna, Life Exposed, xv; For more on the application of this diagnosis to the Fukushimaaccident, see George Johnson, “When Radiation Isn’t the Real Risk,” New York Times,

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September 21, 2015, sec. Science. Johnson quotes a medical physicist who argues: “It was thefear of radiation that ended up killing people.”29 Petryna, Life Exposed, xv.30 Sharon Stephens, “Bounding Uncertainty: The Post-Chernobyl Culture of RadiationProtection Experts,” in Catastrophe & Culture : The Anthropology of Disaster, ed. SusannahM. Hoffman and Anthony Oliver-Smith (Santa Fe, NM: School of American Research Press,2002), 110. The nuclear industry has a bias against women, but according to the Gender andRadiation Impact Project, “the harm to girls and women is, overall, roughly twice that of boysand men.” “Gender and Radiation Impact Project (https://www.genderandradiation.org/),”accessed December 12, 2017. I am grateful to Norma Field for this reference.31 David H. Slater, Rika Morioka, and Haruka Danzuka, “MICRO-POLITICS OF RADIATION:Young Mothers Looking for a Voice in Post–3.11 Fukushima(https://doi.org/10.1080/14672715.2014.935138),” Critical Asian Studies 46, no. 3 (July 3,2014): 494–95.32 This is the same term that was used in the Oishinbo controversy.33 Slater, Morioka, and Danzuka, “MICRO-POLITICS OF RADIATION,” 497–98.34 Slater, Morioka, and Danzuka, 503.35 Slater, Morioka, and Danzuka, 505.36 As mentioned above, Yukako’s husband Tatsuya is also silenced.37 “Intabyū: Odayaka na nichijō.”38 Anastasia Smith, “KJ 81 Online Special: Filmmaker and Activist Kamanaka Hitomi(http://www.kyotojournal.org/the-journal/in-translation/kj-81-online-filmmaker-and-activist-kamanaka-hitomi/),” Kyoto Journal (blog), accessed December 4, 2017. I am grateful to NormaField for this reference.39 Women activists were allowed to distribute pamphlets about the dangers of radiation aslong as they did not include the words “nuclear energy.” For more see Slater, Morioka, andDanzuka, “MICRO-POLITICS OF RADIATION,” 502–3.40 For more on the social limitations on female anti-nuclear protest in Japan see Iwata-Weickgenannt, “Gendering ‘Fukushima’: Resistance, Self-Responsibility, and Female Hysteriain Sono Sion’s Land of Hope,” 114–16.41 Odayaka na nichijō:Uchida Nobuteru.42 Petryna, Life Exposed, xxiv.