Japan is at a critical crossroads in its pursuit of a carbon-neutral future by 2050. The country must balance the need for reliable electricity with its commitment to future generations. Despite its history, nuclear power remains one of the most effective tools to achieve this balance, but only if the public trusts it.
My understanding of this issue comes from both my academic studies and my experiences volunteering in Minamisanriku, a town still recovering from the 2011 tsunami. While I was a child during the disaster, working there now has shown me how institutional failures can shatter public trust. The Fukushima accident exposed not only technical flaws but also a crisis of transparency, leading millions to question whether nuclear energy could ever be safe. However, after engaging with survivors, engineers, and policymakers, I believe Japan cannot afford to abandon nuclear technology. Instead, we must rebuild trust through honesty, education, and genuine public engagement.
The erosion of trust in nuclear power after Fukushima wasn’t inevitable. It resulted from evasive communication, delayed disaster responses, and a lack of meaningful dialogue. Restoring confidence will require more than reassurances; it demands a shift in how institutions engage with the public.
One of the key barriers is the knowledge gap. Many still associate nuclear energy with the images of 2011, exploding reactors, forced evacuations, and contaminated land. Few realize how drastically safety measures have improved since then. Small Modular Reactors (SMRs), for example, are far safer, with passive cooling systems that require no external power. Moreover, nuclear waste management innovations, like Finland’s Onkalo repository, show that long-term storage solutions are not only feasible but already being implemented. Yet, without accessible education, these advancements remain invisible to the public.
Transparency must extend beyond technical details. In Minamisanriku, I saw how communities heal not through top-down decisions, but through collaborative resilience. Nuclear policy should follow this principle. Instead of treating the public as passive recipients, Japan should foster two-way dialogue, town halls where residents question engineers, independent oversight panels with real influence, and real-time radiation data, as Sweden has done. Trust cannot be dictated; it must be earned through accountability.
Some argue Japan should abandon nuclear power in favor of renewables like solar and wind. While these sources are essential, they alone cannot meet the country’s energy needs. The intermittency of renewables means Japan would still depend on fossil fuels during periods of low sunlight or wind, undermining its climate goals.
Before Fukushima, nuclear energy supplied nearly 30% of Japan’s electricity; today, it accounts for less than 7%, with the gap filled largely by imported coal and liquefied natural gas. This shift has increased emissions and left Japan vulnerable to global energy shocks. Countries like France, which generates 70% of its electricity from nuclear power, show that a balanced strategy can be both low-carbon and reliable.
Critics point to the costs, waste disposal, and Fukushima’s legacy. These challenges are real but not insurmountable. Next-generation reactors are safer and cheaper, and emerging technologies, like fast breeder reactors, which recycle nuclear waste, can dramatically reduce long-term risks. The question isn’t whether nuclear energy is perfect, but whether Japan can afford to discard it in the face of the climate crisis.
For nuclear energy to play a role in Japan’s future, decisions cannot be made for the people, they must be made with them. My time in Minamisanriku taught me that rebuilding trust requires centering the voices of those most affected. Instead of relying on polarizing referendums, Japan should adopt localized, participatory approaches.
Communities near nuclear facilities should have real influence over projects, from planning to oversight. This could include citizen advisory boards, guaranteed benefits like tax incentives or subsidized energy, and pre-negotiated compensation plans to avoid the disputes seen after Fukushima. When people feel heard, they are more likely to engage constructively, even on contentious issues.
For instance, Fukushima Prefecture has made strides toward creating a renewable energy hub, with local communities actively involved in energy projects. This model shows that when local voices are included, sustainable solutions can emerge. Although nuclear power remains a sensitive issue, collaboration and participation are key to finding a balance that respects public concerns while ensuring energy security.
Japan’s energy debate is often framed as a binary choice: nuclear or renewables. This is a false dichotomy. The country needs both renewables to lead the transition, and nuclear to ensure stability when nature doesn’t cooperate.
Standing in Minamisanriku today, I see a community that refuses to be defined by disaster. Their resilience mirrors Japan’s broader choice: to confront past failures without being trapped by them. By embracing transparency, innovation, and community-driven policymaking, Japan can forge an energy future that is not only sustainable but just.
The lesson of Fukushima is not that nuclear power is too dangerous to use. It’s that trust, once broken, must be rebuilt with action, not just words.