The Fukushima disaster was not the turning point many had hoped

IN THE HILLY village of Iitate, in Fukushima prefecture, stands a new community centre built with parts pulled from abandoned buildings. Windows from one, doors from another. A chalkboard from a beloved school with no children to attend it. One cloudy day last autumn, a crowd gathered to celebrate its opening. As an elderly woman in a green kimono sang folk tunes, her voice riding a beat or two behind the music, the audience, a mix of locals and Tokyo-ites involved in the centre’s design, feasted on chestnut-filled rice balls.

Iitate is a farming district once known for its fine beef and dried radish. In 2010 it qualified for membership of a club called “Most beautiful villages of Japan”. Yet its recent history has been far from bucolic. Some 35km to the south-east, across the verdant Abukuma mountains, stands the Fukushima Dai-ichi nuclear plant. Opened in 1971, it was one of dozens built around Japan to power the post-war economy. The government offered municipalities generous subsidies for hosting the plants, and promised people that they posed no risks. By 2011 Japan had 54 working reactors, providing a third of the country’s electricity.