Cooling Problem Shuts Nuclear Reactor in Japan - New York Times

Kyushu Electric, the operator of the reactor at the Genkai nuclear power plant, characterized the incident as minor and said there was no risk of a radiation leak. A problem with the condenser unit that turns steam back into cooling water appeared to have triggered the halt, but the reactor stopped safely and was undergoing checks, the utility said.

“At no point was the plant under any danger, and the reactor has been brought to a stable shutdown,” said Eiji Yamamoto, a spokesperson for Kyushu Electric. “There has been no effect on radiation levels outside the plant.”

Still, the shutdown came as the government was renewing a push to restart reactors that were idled following the nuclear accident at Fukushima in March. Kyushu Electric said that inspection work had been carried out on a valve of the condenser in question on Tuesday, raising the possibility that human error had triggered the shutdown.

“As we saw in Fukushima, cooling systems are central to the safety of nuclear reactors,” said Chihiro Kamisawa, a researcher at the Citizens’ Nuclear Information Center, an antinuclear organization. “We cannot take lightly the fact that there was also trouble with the cooling system at Genkai,” he said. “It underscores the fact that safety problems riddle Japan’s reactors.”

After Tuesday’s shutdown, only 10 of 54 reactors remain on the grid, threatening to deprive the nation of the source of almost a third of its electricity. At least four of six reactors at the Fukushima plant, which suffered multiple meltdowns earlier this year, are expected to be permanently decommissioned.

Many other reactors have passed maintenance checks, but have not received the go-ahead to restart. At Genkai, five of six reactors remain offline, and the last is due to halt in December for a scheduled maintenance check, legally required every 13 months.

Prime Minister Yoshihiko Noda recently argued for a swift restart of reactors, albeit after extensive “stress tests” of their safety and ability to withstand earthquakes and tsunamis. Such a drastic loss of nuclear power would bring dire economic consequences, he has repeatedly argued, echoing warnings from Japan’s business lobby.

But he faces an uphill battle amid a collapse of public confidence in Japan’s nuclear program following the accident at Fukushima, where a tsunami knocked out the plant’s cooling systems, triggering meltdowns and a major radiation leak.

The government’s handling of the crisis and its aftermath, from the inadequate evacuation of local residents to scandals involving the restart of other reactors, have added to the public mistrust.

In fact, the governor of the southern prefecture of Saga had tentatively agreed to allow the restart of two idle reactors at Genkai in July. But he rescinded his permission when it was found that Kyushu Electric had tried to manipulate public opinion with fake e-mails to support a reopening of the reactors.

In an Associated Press-GfK poll of Japanese voters published last month, 6 out of 10 respondents said they had little or no confidence in the safety of the country’s nuclear plants. Only 5 percent were very confident.

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City in Japan tries new tack on old problem

Hakuhodo Banners in the city's main shopping center are part of an effort to lure residents.

UTSUNOMIYA, Japan—Takaaki Nammoku has spent his entire life in Utsunomiya, save for studies at a university.

"I didn't want to admit I was from Utsunomiya when I went to college," the city-government worker said glumly. "I just knew what the next question would be: 'Where's Utsunomiya?' "

Utsunomiya is neither here nor there, some might say. The city is located about 100 kilometers (62 miles) from the nation's capital—not close enough to Tokyo to be considered part of its urban sprawl and not far enough away to make it a relaxing weekend getaway. Roughly half a million people live there, amid an endless grid of roads in an area as flat as the American plains.

It also has a lot of concrete shopping centers. And more than a few shops in its covered pedestrian walkway—a staple in regional Japanese cities—are closed. On a recent weekday afternoon, only a few elderly citizens milled about. Like most Japanese towns, 20% of its population is 65 years of age or older.

Utsunomiya City Messages from locals about 'fun things' to do are part of an effort to lure residents.

Eiichi Sato, the mayor of Utsunomiya (pronounced Oot-su-no-MEE-ya), facing economic stagnation and a declining population, and aware of the collective inferiority complex among his constituents, decided he had to do something.

"We needed a brand message and we needed new tactics," Mayor Sato said. "I want people to live here and stay. I want people to stay here until they die. We want people outside of Utsunomiya to know it's a great place."

Two years ago, he hired one of the country's leading advertising agencies—at a cost of at least 100 million yen ($1.2 million)— and gave it the daunting task of creating a hip branding campaign for the town.

Hakuhodo Inc., Japan's second-biggest ad agency, built a wide-ranging promotion centered around a simple slogan: "A lovely place to live, Utsunomiya."

Soon, television commercials were aired, one featuring a young boy expertly playing the trumpet. Late last year, a massive group-dating event was held. Participants received a wristband that allowed them to enter various venues and chat with people. A surprising 1,500 people showed up.

A big part of the campaign had to do with its turning local citizens into what the agency called "creative directors." At least 200 people have appeared on posters, holding up their personal messages extolling the city's virtues.

"The mood of the whole town was bleak. We wanted the citizens to build up their own confidence by getting everyone involved," said Fumiko Kinoshita, a producer at Hakuhodo.

One of the poster messages reads: "Utsunomiya gyoza is awesome."

Gyoza, or pan-fried dumplings, is the town's main claim to fame. Utsunomiya has the highest per capita gyoza-consumption rate in Japan and spends the most money on the dumplings. Government data show the average household in Utsunomiya city spent 479 yen on ready-to-eat gyoza purchased at supermarkets in December 2010. Tokyoites spent less than half that. Utsunomiya's unofficial mascot is a mock version of Botticelli's Venus, emerging not from a seashell but from a gyoza wrapper.

Last autumn, the city's annual gyoza festival drew 120,000 people from all over Japan, one of its best turnouts yet.

As a result of the campaign, the city seemed to be rising from its torpid state. Then the March 11 disasters struck Japan. Utsunomiya was left relatively undamaged, but life there changed for many. The city took in 200 evacuees from the area around Fukushima Daiichi nuclear-power plant, after they had spent a month in various public gyms and other facilities scattered around the area.

Utsunomiya city officials thought it wasn't right to continue the promotion in the same way. "We voluntarily refrained from launching new campaigns," said Mr. Sato, adding that it wasn't the time to be trying to lure people to settle in Utsunomiya. "So much is still uncertain right now, and people who have been forced to leave invariably want to go back to their home at some point."

City officials waited for several weeks before edging their way back into the campaign. Since May 22, a new slogan promotes life in the city, adding, "Now is the time to be positive" to its original line: "A lovely place to live, Utsunomiya."

"We came to decide to do even more to cheer up the people, given the circumstances the society has been put in," says the city's branding manager Takaaki Nanmoku. In June, officials brought back the city mascot, Miyary—a fairy in a crown of flowers whose name is derived from Utsunomiya and the word "fairy"—and launched an official blog featuring the character at various local events.

Last month, Miyary visited the city of Koriyama in Fukushima to meet with the Koriyama city's mascot. Utsunomiya's unique initiative has caught the eye of other local leaders, as regional towns increasingly compete against one another to attract residents.

Ebina, for example, a small city about an hour away from Tokyo—asked Utsunomiya's agency to come up with a slogan for it ("To your field: Ebina"), though it didn't have the funds for a full-blown campaign.

Even before the March disasters, towns that were once vibrant hubs of commerce and activity had become shells of their former selves, as the country's overall population ages and shrinks, and manufacturing is increasingly outsourced to lower-cost countries in Asia.

Regions severely damaged by the quake reported in the Bank of Japan's quarterly review, unveiled in July, that they have continued to face hard times, even though seven of nation's nine regions have upgraded their economic assessment since April.

Since its campaign began, Utsunomiya has been featured more than 225 times in the Japanese media, resulting in the equivalent of more $3.5 million dollars of coverage, according to Hakuhodo's estimates. The effort may not have added to the population, but it does seem to have boosted civic pride.

"What's not to like about Utsunomiya?" asked Akiko Kondo, a 32-year-old mother, who has spent her entire life in the city.

"Sure, there are good things about Tokyo, like being able to go to a concert after work, but I can get pretty much everything I want here," she said. "My husband is set to be posted to Hokkaido or Mie prefecture soon, but I am staying in Utsunomiya."

For Mr. Nammoku, the government employee: "After this campaign, people can say, I like Utsunomiya; they're not embarrassed to admit it."

— Miho Inada contributed to this article.

Write to Mariko Sanchanta at mariko.sanchanta@wsj.com

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Korean television dramas are not the real problem

On July 23, actor Sosuke Takaoka tweeted that he was sick of all the Korean dramas on Fuji TV, a network he "used to be indebted to," and demanded more "traditional" Japanese programming. "If anything related to South Korea is on," he continued, "I just turn it off." The backlash was swift, and the actor eventually apologized for his rant, saying many people had misunderstood him. In any case his talent agency fired him soon thereafter.

Dropping the ball: The Fuji TV building in Odaiba, Tokyo FABIAN REUS, CREATIVE COMMONS

Takaoka's comments were understood to be the catalyst for the demonstrations outside Fuji TV's offices on Aug. 7. Hundreds of people carrying Japanese flags and singing the national anthem called on the network to stop broadcasting Korean content. As with Takaoka's comments, response to the protest was divided. Some agreed with it, while others despaired over the obvious outpouring of anti-Korean nationalism if not downright racism.

But there was another reaction, characterized by comedian-musician Ryo Fukawa, who said on his FM radio show that however one interprets Takaoka's opinions, he had a right to voice them. "Freedom of speech is only a phrase in Japan," he declared. This sentiment was echoed by show biz columnist Yoshiko Matsumoto, who wrote, "I am not interested in Korean dramas, but if I said that, would I become a target?" Some might say the fact that both Fukawa and Matsumoto said these things proves they're wrong about freedom of speech, but neither have any direct relation to television. Fukawa admits that he's washed up on TV because of his attitude. Matsumoto makes her living from writing.

Takaoka, on the other hand, happens to be married to Aoi Miyazaki, one of the most popular actresses in Japan. The tabloid press, which loves to pick on men whose wives are more successful than they are, would like nothing better than to see them divorce. The weeklies Bunshun and Friday demanded to know why Miyazaki hasn't left her husband over his comments. Matsumoto takes a different tack: "Why doesn't she publicly defend him?"

The reason she doesn't do either is that she's protecting her own interests, which depend on TV, and Takaoka's beef is not so much with Korean pop culture but with Fuji, which presumably no longer hires him. For sure, his anger indicated latent resentment toward Korea, which is ironic since his most famous role was a Korean-Japanese character in the movie "Pacchigi," but his real complaint is against Japanese TV, whose reliance on Korean product is one aspect of a larger issue that he may see as a brake on his career. From 2 to 5 p.m. every weekday, Fuji TV broadcasts Korean dramas. According to a Fuji employee interviewed by the weekly magazine Gendai, these dramas garner a 4 percent audience share, which isn't great but is nevertheless "good for that timeframe," and "licensing Korean dramas is really cheap." The decision to run Korean content is a financial one.

The circumstances surrounding Takaoka's dismissal are vague, but his agency relies a great deal on TV. According to a recent article in Shukan Post, the complacency of mainstream media pundits in the face of Japanese television's towering irrelevance is in direct proportion to the existing commercial networks' stranglehold on the airwaves. Citing countless examples of pointless programming, the article fixed TV's decline as starting in the 1980s, when the first wave of Japanese TV producers — mostly idealists who entered the industry to change society — were replaced by a new generation who wanted to make money. They didn't even solicit advertising. Sponsors threw money at them.

The secret to their success was lack of competition. The five networks were given the rights to public airwaves practically for free, and the yearly usage fees remain ridiculously low. In Japan there are 128 TV stations that, altogether, pay about ¥5 billion a year in fees and make ¥3 trillion a year.

According to the Post, politicians are in thrall to broadcasters because TV is seen as the only key to electability in Japan. When analog broadcasts stopped on July 24, it freed up 200 megahertz of bandwidth, an incredible resource for the nation, but rather than auction off frequencies to broadcast ventures, the government does nothing. There are rumors that the networks will receive some bandwidth to broadcast "one-seg" TV programs to cell phones, but the one-seg boom has passed, eclipsed by smart phones. Economic and Fiscal Policy Minister Kaoru Yosano has suggested that the reconstruction of Tohoku be funded by a tax targeting cellphone users. Relative to how much bandwidth they use, providers already pay 200 times what broadcasters pay for rights to the airwaves.

Without competition, quality is an afterthought, and the Post shows how commercial TV became a game of one-upmanship. If somebody had a popular show, you copied the format. When this sort of thing goes on long enough, all shows become the same show. With ad revenues down drastically, the point now is to save money, and it's much cheaper to buy Korean dramas than it is to produce original shows. When Panasonic recently pulled its long-time sponsorship of the drama series "Mito Komon" TBS cancelled it, even though it was still popular, rather than look for a new sponsor. Programming, and thus public service, is no longer the prime task of broadcasters. TBS made more money last year from real estate than from advertising sales; and one reason home shopping is so prevalent on TV is that the networks now have their own catalogue sales subsidiaries. Fuji TV's is Dinos, which means a portion of the money Dinos makes over the air goes to Fuji TV. A professor interviewed by the Post says this is a violation of the Anti-monopoly Act (Dokusen Kinshi-ho).

Takaoka's anger inflamed jingoistic resentments, but few media pundits identified the real source of his discontent, which was the sad state of Japanese TV. It doesn't mean he shouldn't apologize, but his inability to understand and articulate that discontent appears to be a symptom of the equally sad state of public discourse. When no one knows what they can or can't say, they never get the chance to learn how to say it.

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Tax hike won't fix the problem

Regarding the Aug. 14 Kyodo article "Fiscal reform necessary to avoid crisis": Politicians understand that when you tax something you get less of it. In the United States, this prohibitionist rationale outweighs the revenue-raising rationale in the case of tobacco and alcohol taxes.

Yet, when it comes to working, saving, and investing, politicians in the U.S. and Japan both develop a change of heart. They believe that higher taxes on these things will actually increase their growth. That is why fiscal policy minister Kaoru Yosano's rationale for hiking the consumption tax is flawed.

At a time when economic activity is sluggish, an increase in the consumption tax will accelerate the hollowing out of domestic industries by destroying what little is left of consumer demand. The quality of life of every person living in Japan is at stake.

For things where demand is inelastic, such as food, clothing, shelter and other necessities, a hike in the consumption tax will not affect demand very much, but consumers will need to cut back on discretionary spending to offset their higher costs for these necessities.

A hike in the consumption tax will turn the clock backward on Japanese society to a time when owning a television or a car was considered a rare luxury.

Yosano's argument that a hike in the consumption tax is the only thing that can stave off a fiscal calamity is not credible. Historically, tax hikes never bring in the amount of revenue politicians promise, because the projections that they use fail to account for the drop in demand that results.

Japan's impending fiscal calamity is due to the massive unfunded liability of the social security system. No amount of taxes or outright wealth confiscation will raise enough revenue to meet this need. Instead, a complete reform of the entitlement program is needed.

The opinions expressed in this letter to the editor are the writer's own and do not necessarily reflect the policies of The Japan Times.

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