early stages of scientific research and technological development (e.g., [31, 39]; see
Delgado et al. [7] for a review of current issues regarding public engagement).
Furthermore, lacking conspicuously in these imaginaries surrounding nuclear
technology are certain actors, practices, and phenomena: workers at NPPs, local
residents, day-to-day operations at NPPs, and risks of radiation for workers and
residents. After the 2011 accident, it came as a great shock for many Japanese to
learn about the precarious conditions of labor at the plants (as depicted in Higuchi
[14], Asakawa [3], Jobin [19]), as well as how “manual” and low-tech some of the
workings and physical realities of NPPs are—as opposed to the images of a clean
control room, which was a typical representation of an NPP—and how much
uncertainty surrounded a control of, and effects of, radiation. Urban Japanese were
also largely oblivious to the risks that local residents bore as NPPs supplied energy
to their cities. Moreover, decoupling from bombs prevented hibakusha’s postwar
social, political, and physical struggles from being relevant to discussion of life
with NPPs.
3 Historical Factors Behind the Pre-Fukushima Nuclear
Imaginaries
While nuclear imaginaries described above are obviously a product of long-term,
complex historical processes involving numerous actors, events, and cultural,
political, and economic resources, below I highlight several key factors that have
significantly shaped them in early postwar years in the way that have persisted since
then.
First, in postwar Japan, the public discussion of nuclear technology—and the war
experience in general—was significantly shaped by the systematic censorship carried
out by the Allied Occupation. Under the censorship apparatus laid out by the United
States, discussion or expression of the experience of the bombings was severely
restricted, as well as criticism of the US or other Allied nations. Notably, the public
had little awareness of censorship or the press code [5, 16, 24]. The insidious nature of
this censorship had a profound impact on the way the Japanese talked about and
thought about the atomic bombings. Kawamura [24] argues that this kind of manipulation contributed to the way the issue of atomic bombings became meaningless,
hidden, and invisible to most Japanese in plain sight during these postwar years.
After the end of the Allied Occupation in 1952, many Japanese saw visual
representation of victims of atomic bombs for the first time when Asahi Graph—a
Life-like general interest photo magazine—published a series of photos in its
August 6th 1952 issue. While the photos certainly were shocking by most standards, with charred bodies and badly injured children, strikingly missing was any
critiques of the acts of bombings themselves. The brutality and inhumanity of the
bombs were emphasized without an agent, and also portrayed as a deterrent of
another war, or even a purveyor of peace. Remarkably enough, an organized
200
K. Sato
Delgado et al. [7] for a review of current issues regarding public engagement).
Furthermore, lacking conspicuously in these imaginaries surrounding nuclear
technology are certain actors, practices, and phenomena: workers at NPPs, local
residents, day-to-day operations at NPPs, and risks of radiation for workers and
residents. After the 2011 accident, it came as a great shock for many Japanese to
learn about the precarious conditions of labor at the plants (as depicted in Higuchi
[14], Asakawa [3], Jobin [19]), as well as how “manual” and low-tech some of the
workings and physical realities of NPPs are—as opposed to the images of a clean
control room, which was a typical representation of an NPP—and how much
uncertainty surrounded a control of, and effects of, radiation. Urban Japanese were
also largely oblivious to the risks that local residents bore as NPPs supplied energy
to their cities. Moreover, decoupling from bombs prevented hibakusha’s postwar
social, political, and physical struggles from being relevant to discussion of life
with NPPs.
3 Historical Factors Behind the Pre-Fukushima Nuclear
Imaginaries
While nuclear imaginaries described above are obviously a product of long-term,
complex historical processes involving numerous actors, events, and cultural,
political, and economic resources, below I highlight several key factors that have
significantly shaped them in early postwar years in the way that have persisted since
then.
First, in postwar Japan, the public discussion of nuclear technology—and the war
experience in general—was significantly shaped by the systematic censorship carried
out by the Allied Occupation. Under the censorship apparatus laid out by the United
States, discussion or expression of the experience of the bombings was severely
restricted, as well as criticism of the US or other Allied nations. Notably, the public
had little awareness of censorship or the press code [5, 16, 24]. The insidious nature of
this censorship had a profound impact on the way the Japanese talked about and
thought about the atomic bombings. Kawamura [24] argues that this kind of manipulation contributed to the way the issue of atomic bombings became meaningless,
hidden, and invisible to most Japanese in plain sight during these postwar years.
After the end of the Allied Occupation in 1952, many Japanese saw visual
representation of victims of atomic bombs for the first time when Asahi Graph—a
Life-like general interest photo magazine—published a series of photos in its
August 6th 1952 issue. While the photos certainly were shocking by most standards, with charred bodies and badly injured children, strikingly missing was any
critiques of the acts of bombings themselves. The brutality and inhumanity of the
bombs were emphasized without an agent, and also portrayed as a deterrent of
another war, or even a purveyor of peace. Remarkably enough, an organized
200
K. Sato