by Eddie Landsberg

Opinions Feb. 02, 2012 - 06:26AM JST ( 15 )

TOKYO —

The University of Tokyo’s Earthquake Research Institute recently predicted a 70% probability of a magnitude 7 or more earthquake within four years, and almost certainly within the next 30 years.

The news itself in many ways is not exactly news, give or take a tweaking of the numbers on the scarier side.

Almost as a Haley’s Comet version of a Godzilla-like monster literally arising from the bowels of the earth, it is a fact that around every 100-150 years or so, Tokyo gets devastated with a doozy of a shaker.

For example, the Great Ansei-Tokai Earthquake occurred at about 9 a.m. on Dec 23, 1854. More than 10,000 buildings were destroyed, and there were at least 2,000 casualties. The following day, a second quake known as the Ansei Nankai quake, occurred, also an 8.4, which caused even greater devastation from the Tokai region down to Kyushu with over 10,000 casualties.

It was followed by another mega thrust quake barely a year later—the Ansei Edo Earthquake. The intensity was only 6.8, but it struck close to the heart of Edo (modern-day Tokyo). At least 6,641 people died within the city alone.

Tokyo’s best-remembered quake was the Great Kanto Earthquake, which hit the southern part of Kanto, including Tokyo and Yokohama, in 1923. Some 99,311 people were reported as dead, and 43,467 missing. The resulting fires were so intense that over a half a million houses were reportedly burned to ashes, and a quarter of a million more were half destroyed.

In its wake, Japan began an intensification of earthquake research studies, beginning with the Imperial Earthquake Investigation Committee in 1925, which eventually became the Earthquake Research Institute.

About 20 years later, in October of 1946, a researcher named Imamura observed crustal movements at several points in the area north of Nankai along Japan’s Chuo Kozosen, its longest fault system. Due to a shortage of manpower and necessary materials resulting from the war, he could not continue the study for long, but wrote a letter to the Academy of Japan expressing his concern that a large quake might hit the Nankai region once again, as it had almost a century earlier and that Japan needed to get ready for it fast.

Two months later, it struck—1,200 were killed.

If a big earthquake were to strike Tokyo today, estimates of up to 11,000 casualties could be expected.

Of note, the population of the Tokyo metropolitan area is over 45 million. At the time of the last Tokai earthquake, it was just a bit over a million.

Keeping all of these statistics in mind, one might wonder why anyone would want to live in such a “doomed for the inevitable” zone, let alone build a nuclear power plant smack dab in the middle of the Ring of Fire. While I can’t answer the latter question, several thoughts come to mind in answering the first.  One being denial. It is said part of that which gives man both sanity and the desire to live is psychological denial of not only his own mortality, but also all the uncertainty in the world. Our happiness, from that point of view, depends on us believing that bad stuff can’t possibly happen to us, or at least if it does, it’ll all turn out for the best. Ignorance, so the old saying goes, is bliss.

Then again, sometimes you get used to things.

Back in the old days when everything was made of wood, and fire, not electricity was what made the world go around, Tokyo had a bad habit of catching of fire. The fires were so common they were nicknamed “The Blossoms of Edo.” Fires erupted, and didn’t just last for days; they lasted for weeks. The Great Fire of Meireki in the 1600s was a relatively short one. It lasted for about three days, and took about 100,000 lives. Hurricane force winds enabled it to spread with veracity and carbonize virtually anything in its path.

Tokyo, of course, has since also been firebombed and has even had lava spewed upon it.

Not surprisingly, Japan itself is the land of the fictional Godzilla, a monster that habitually rises from the sea, wreaks mass destruction, and is temporarily defeated, until he returns yet again and again.

From great fires, to Tokai, to firebombs, Mothras and Godzillas, one might wonder if it just reaches a point that fantasy, reality, probability, inevitability, and even inescapability merge into a sticky mush of confusion, causing us simply not to want to think about it, but rather enjoy the time we have, perhaps via a good soak at an onsen, shopping or taking in the new AKB48 docu-movie.

Ironically, the musical “Cabaret” (which is headed for a Japanese language stage adaptation this spring) is all about that… people blissful celebrating the joy, even hedonistic pleasures of life, when, in hindsight, doom lurks on the horizon.

On the other hand, we might even ask: Is Tokyo really doomed?

Take the hypothesized casualty rate of 11,000. Tokyo today is a city of 45 million. A loss of 11,000 people indeed would be sad and tragic, and an economic loss of 112 trillion yen is not pretty either. On the other hand, 11,000 represents .024% of the population, which is not so bad if you believe that you live in a safe and sensibly designed structure.

Still, human beings are not ants in a colony of sand. When these tragedies strike, we collectively mourn ... and life, from the day after, is never quite same. Today, there is no question that Japan has spent decades preparing. The real question is: Are we ready for it yet again?

Author Infomation

Eddie Landsberg

Eddie Landsberg is a writer, musician and reviewer who's lived and taught in Japan for 17 years. He presents stories and interviews on a wide range of topics related to changing Japanese society. He's recorded three internationally distributed CDs as a Hammond organist. Among his hobbies shogi, dog training and collecting R&B.

Website: http://www.facebook.com/eddie.landsberg1