26 April 2011
Kumi Naidoo Executive
Director of Greenpeace International (left)
and Tobias Muenchmeyer, Nuclear Expert Greenpeace
Germany (right) hold an anti-nuclear banner
in the very minute of the anniversary.
It was close to midnight
when we arrived and prepared for our “action,”
which had been authorized by the Ukrainian
government. Then at 1:23 a.m., 25 years
to the minute after the disaster, as wild
dogs in the area began howling, provoked
by the distant ringing of bells at a Russian
Orthodox chapel, we began our “action.”
We projected a gigantic image of Munch’s
“Scream” onto the shell of the old sarcophagus.
Under the image ran the phrase “Stop nuclear
madness” in a revolving series of Ukrainian,
Japanese, Russian, German and English. Media
around the globe used this material to illustrate
their anniversary coverage.
Afterward, surprisingly reticent to leave
the ghosts of the past, we decided to stop
at the ruins of the village of Kopachi,
about two kilometers away. You’ve probably
seen photos from this town, a sort of Pompeii
with remains of concrete prefabricated buildings.
Everywhere long sticks with little yellow
radiation signs litter mountainous heaps
of rubble, lest anyone forget that this
is nuclear waste still waiting to be transported
to a “safe” storage area.
One of the few buildings
still somewhat intact is the kindergarten.
Inside, our torches shed light on paintings
of fairytale characters, children's beds,
a big bathroom with five children’s sinks
in a row, blackboards and books – all covered
by the dust of 25 years. In the corner of
a playroom I came across a pair of boy's
baby shoes, their nameless owner quickly
added along with Tobias’s wife’s in my personal
collection of Chernobyl memories.
The area around Chernobyl
once counted a population of 120,000 people.
Today it is home to packs of wild dogs and
a couple hundred elderly people who have
returned, primarily for lack of anywhere
better to go. It is a zone of the dying
and the dead.
I am told that in Fukushima,
which I will visit next week, life continues
as normal, despite alarmingly high radiation
levels being detected in schools, shrines
and other places where people gather. Children
have even been sent back to class. The government
has instigated “voluntary” relocation -
but for those without the funds or means
to pick up and move, this is meaningless.
In April, five weeks
after a tsunami and earthquake damaged the
Fukushima nuclear power plant, the Japanese
authorities raised the upper level limit
of acceptable radiation from 1 mSv per year
to 20 mSv per year for school children.
It is hard to believe
that the current Japanese government is
falling so far behind the 5 mSv standard
set by the Soviets. How can a government
that lived with the fallout of nuclear bombs
allow such high levels of radiation exposure
for its children? Why is the Japanese government
not actively decontaminating school grounds?
I think about Katya
and the pupils of the Kopachi kindergarten
who hopefully managed to grow up far away
from the radiation. For those not endowed
with memory of previous tragedies, surely
these stories should be enough?
The Japanese government
must do all that it can to protect its citizens
from the aftereffects of Fukushima. Meanwhile,
the rest of the world must join the Japanese,
German and Swiss governments who have decided
to stop funding nuclear energy. No more
Chernobyls. No more Fukushimas. Never again.
