The March 11 earthquake and its aftermath in Japan induces thoughts about the fragility of the human race, or more accurately, the fragility of ourselves.
After a terrifying tsunami ripped away at the coast line of northeast Japan, the death toll continued to mount as rescue workers sift through the rubble Nature’s devastation has left behind.
Already reeling, a threat of our own creation — nuclear disaster — followed close behind the deadly wave at the Fukushima Daiichi power plant near the tsunami’s landfall, as if to remind us of our arrogance.
Believing the water in ponds that cool spent fuel rods may be all but gone, U.S. officials have recommended American citizens evacuate the area within a 50-mile radius. While we often hear about nuclear meltdown of a plant’s uranium core, experts say the spent nuclear fuel is far more unpredictable and dangerous.
In the world of modern conveniences, nuclear energy bears the same burden as air travel. Despite statistics showing they are immeasurably safer than the alternatives, their failures are the stuff of nightmares, ripping further asunder the delicate control we seek to maintain.
In the face of these catastrophes, members of the human race reach for meaning.
We have found it in a nameless group of nuclear reactor workers — dubbed the Fukushima 50 — who are quickly achieving hero status for their efforts to contain possible radiation leaks, despite the threat to their health, even their very lives.
The brave men of Fukushima have continued to show up for work, even volunteering to face the still widely unknown dangers inside the plant in the name of duty. At the very least, they may suffer extreme sickness from high doses of radiation, which can be treated with drugs. But they will surely perish in the event of a large-scale fiasco.
We’ve found it before, in the heroes of United Airlines flight 93, who chose to die fighting rather than allowing hijackers to crash their plane into its intended Washington, D.C., target on Sept. 11, 2001.
Passengers and crew members, who learned about successful attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon via cell phone, mounted a desperate assault against the heavily armed hijackers in an attempt to regain control. The plane crashed in a field in Stonycreek Township, Pa., killing all on board, including the four hijackers. A permanent memorial is scheduled to open this Sept. 11.
Or living heroes like Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger, the pilot who coolly guided US Airways Flight 1549 into a safe crash landing in the Hudson River in 2009, after the jet hit a large flock of birds, disabling both engines. All passengers aboard survived.
The list goes on: Soldiers, firefighters and police officers. If I’m leaving anyone out, I’m sorry, and thank you. Sure, all know the inherent risks of their jobs, and are trained to face them head on. Still, it takes a special kind of person to stand up to what may end up being a sacrificial effort.
In their strength lies the only possible remedy to our frailty.
While we may debate the future and appropriateness of nuclear power, and tremble at the thought of whether we are prepared for natural disaster at home, there is little question about what makes a hero.
Maybe the real meaning lies in our own opportunity to be heroes as well. Even if we’re not as courageous, maybe we can be as noble.
We can contribute to the betterment of our world, in any way that our personal budgets of time or money allow.
Can’t spare a few dollars or a few hours of valuable volunteer time to a deserving charity, food drive or service organization? Perhaps you can just do something to help out a friend, or maybe even a stranger.
It is somehow meaningful and ironic that Mr. Spock, the fictional hero from Star Trek, died of radiation poisoning incurred while saving his crewmates and captain from nuclear disaster near the end of the 1982 movie “Star Trek II, the Wrath of Khan.”
As he dies inside the irradiated chamber, the ever-logical Vulcan explains why he risked his life. “Logic dictates: The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one.”
