Like a phoenix, life begins anew 15 years after Fukushima nuclear disaster

March 11 marks the 15th anniversary of the Fukushima nuclear disaster. It also marks the new growth of plant life and, as Muneo Kanno, a rice farmer of Fukushima, told me, “fushicho no gotoku” or “like the phoenix.”
One might expect a desolate and lifeless environment when traveling to the location of a nuclear disaster, but instead my eyes were greeted with lush green fields and rows of carefully planted rice sprouts.
Last summer, I had the extraordinary opportunity to study abroad with Kennesaw State University’s Earth Science and Culture of Japan program. We traveled to see the recovery work being done in Fukushima after a 9.0-magnitude earthquake caused a tsunami that catastrophically damaged the Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Power Plant.
On our journey to visit restoration sites and farmers in Fukushima, we traveled alongside two expert soil scientists — Daniel Ferreira, our environmental professor at KSU, and well-respected scientist and retired University of Tokyo professor Masaru Mizoguchi. The scientist learned their regional vermiculite clay trapped all radioactive material from the atmosphere into the top-layer soil, which allowed for radioactive excavation, relocation and replacement with safe mountain sand.
When I arrived in the Iitate village of Fukushima, I thought we had stopped at a prefecture far away from the disaster. The beauty of Iitate was measurable to the scenic illustrations of famed filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki.
I will never forget walking through the bus door and smelling the sweet scent of rice flowing through the air. A nice, pleasant aroma matched with the equally sweet smile of Kanno. Kanno was the main farmer in Fukushima working with Mizoguchi toward the safe cultivation of crops.

Kanno explained that with collaboration from soil scientists, like Mizoguchi, they had successfully grown rice with radiation levels too low to even be detected. This was made possible through continuous work in cultivation of the harsh mountain gravel into dense soil full of micronutrients.
I can attest that while planting these rice sprouts with Kanno, the “mountain rock” felt like velvety rich soil. This soil that Kanno cultivated was then tested for many months by Mizoguchi’s team for contamination.
With these tests, they discovered that Iitate produced safe crops for the first time since the 2011 disaster, a symbol of progress that had taken years of challenging work!
After planting rice with Kanno, we talked with him in his home about what Fukushima needed in terms of support. Kanno, his eyes marked by pride and quiet solemnity, described the significant advancements in cultivation alongside the painful reality that many of Iitate’s residents never returned.
When farmers and inhabitants of Iitate were forced to leave during decontamination efforts, many created new lives in more modernized areas of Japan. The immense work required for recovery farming also did not incentivize the return of farmers who once cultivated its lands. Kanno hoped that by sharing the work and progress made in Iitate he could encourage the return of younger generations to Fukushima.
Leaving Iitate, I went over the events of the day: the captivating scenery of Fukushima, the strength of the farmers and scientists working against the odds. Their passion and collaboration touched my heart, and I felt the responsibility to help them. I knew the best way I could help was to share my story in Fukushima.
Mizoguchi has created Resurrection of Fukushima, a nonprofit that aims to support farmers through this period of stigma and restoration. Kanno and Mizoguchi have shown it is possible to grow safe crops again since the nuclear disaster, but unfortunately the demand for their rice has not improved. Stigma around Fukushima’s safety is still a barrier to progress.
Before I went to Japan, I had the same misconception surrounding the radiation in Fukushima. Through my study abroad experiences, I realized I was wrong. Fukushima has overcome the toughest of situations to grow safe crops again.
Together, like Kanno and Mizoguchi, let us break the stigma and support our neighbors across the globe.
Abigail Rieger is a Kennesaw State University biology and prehealth undergraduate and a participant in Kennesaw State’s Earth Science and Culture of Japan program. She enjoys working as a local Georgia artist specializing in watercolor and mixed media paintings.
If you have any thoughts about this item, or if you’re interested in writing an op-ed for the AJC’s education page, drop us a note at education@ajc.com.


