The Great Yokosuka Panic of 2011

It's ironic. Deniz and I moved overseas hoping to add a little excitement to our lives. And we got just what we asked for. Excitement, just not the kind we expected. 9.0 magnitude earthquake, 30 foot tsunami engulfing northeastern Honshu, and destablized nuclear reactors in Fukushima. Not what you'd call a normal overseas tour. Watching ongoing news coverage of the incident has been heart-wrenching. It's hard to imagine how the people up there must feel: terror of living through the earthquake, homes and lives being carelessly swept away as if they were kiddie toys, survival in shelters with scarce food and supplies, fear for missing loved ones, and the unknowns and threats of nuclear radiation.

Deniz and I, and our friends here in Yokosuka, Japan, didn't experience any of the horrors we saw on TV, however. Don't get me wrong, the earthquake was scary as hell. Even as far as 220 miles from Sendai, we still felt like the buildings were going to crumble down with us screaming inside. The post-earthquake Twilight Zone was also disconcerting - pitch-black dark, frigid homes without power, continuing aftershocks, Japanese public emergency intercom announcements (who knows what they were saying), and no phone, internet or TV access to the outside world to find out what was going on. And because the train system completely shut down, many stranded people had to walk 3 to 8 hours to get home from work that night.

But the truth is, we didn't really sustain any damage here in Yokosuka. No damage to our buildings or our belongings, no tsunami impact, and no radiation that anywhere approaches unhealthy levels.

What we did experience, however, is something

they don't show on the news. And perhaps that's a good thing. While our northern Japanese counterparts were conducting disaster response in a heroic, orderly and dignified manner, people in Yokosuka were consumed by blind panic. First they swept through the grocery stores like a tornado. The shelves were emptied of bottled water, canned foods, bread, flashlights, candles, and toilet paper (the last one was particularly annoying as I was on my last roll and in actual need of replenishment). Then there was a run on gas. There were lines of cars over a mile long stemming from every gas station in the city with people desperately trying to procure their 5 gallon ration of gasoline.

And then there was the radiation scare. The U.S.S. George Washington, ported in Yokosuka, managed to detect traces of radiation in the air, above background levels. The levels were below what you'd experience if you were to sit in front of a computer monitor or a TV. But for some reason I'll never understand, the Navy chose to report it and recommend that "as a precautionary measure" people limit their activities outdoors and secure outdoor ventilation.

That's when complete panic set in. Parents started locking their kids indoors (no doubt with both TV and computer monitors on) and teachers began cramming paper wads underneath the doors to prevent air circulation. Kids started getting sick due to poor ventilation. Parents began to panic that both they and their kids were going to die in a nuclear explosion and started agonizing about "the end" that was imminent. Never mind the fact that we live over 180 miles away from Fukushima and history (Chernobyl) has taught us that radiation poisoning at such great distances could only really be caused by decades of contaminated food and water consumption, not contaminated air.

Dependents were causing so much panic and chaos that President Obama decided to offer voluntary departures for dependents. Great plan, right? Allow the distressed spouses and kids to leave if they want so us worker bees can get back to business. Well, apparently many people in Yokosuka were hard of hearing because they didn't hear "voluntary departure." They heard "mandatory evacuation." People went home fearing for their lives, packed their bags, and prepared to evacuate to safe ground. Except the planes didn't show up right away to pick them up. See, in a voluntary departure, there's no rush to get people out. The government can take time to make robust transportation arrangements. Meanwhile, people on the base think they're about to die and where the heck is the plane out of here? Read a couple hundred frantic, angry Facebook postings yourself. A hysterical mob is not a pretty thing. Only after a 1,000 person standing-room only town hall meeting with 4-star Admiral Willard of the Pacific Command did the word start to get out that Yokosuka was safe. But by then it was too late, everyone had either departed or was planning to depart.

Departure to the U.S. was a struggle for those who had to undergo it. Confusing and sometimes conflicting ad hoc guidance and procedures, restrictions on transporting pets, long wait times, and less than ideal waiting conditions. Even so, it amazes me that dependents continue to complain. They got a free flight to and from Japan, plus daily housing and per diem allowances. Sounds more like a free vacation than a voluntary departure to me. Conservatively assume that allowances given to each dependent total $100/day, and that 7,000 dependents voluntarily departed to the States. Do the math yourself. The U.S. Government (aka, taxpayers like you and me) is spending over $700,000/day on dependents because they're afraid to live 180 miles away from the Fukushima reactors, where there is no real health risk of radiation poisoning.

All this not withstanding, I have to say that I am proud of my Navy. Despite the Great Yokosuka Panic of 2011, the Navy managed to deploy over 12,000 people to support relief efforts up north, where it was really needed. They helped deliver food, water, fuel, and other emergency relief to hundreds of thousands of Japanese evacuees in shelters. They supported search and recovery efforts in the tsunami-stricken areas. They provided supplies and support in efforts to stabilize the nuclear reactors. Operation Tomodachi (translation: Operation "Friend") is showing the Japanese people, and the world, that we care about them and are here to help them in their time of need. In these times of global turmoil and unrest, I am proud to support this team and its humanitarian mission.

The story is still ongoing. Efforts are still underway to cool and contain the reactors. We still experience unsettling aftershocks. And the long path towards rebuilding has begun. But I daresay that the Great Yokosuka Panic of 2011 is finally coming to a close. Grocery stores and gas stations are starting to stock back to normal levels. And the people here in Japan are actually starting to go out to admire the cherry blossoms that their great nation is so famous for.

Last week, I went to pick up my 5 free iodine pills that the Navy was offering as a "precautionary measure." The entire Purdy Gym (fitness facility) was been roped off with amusement park-like zigzag lines to facilitate organized distribution. And yet, I was the only person in line. Apparently people have finally figured out that "precautionary measure" does not equal mass panic. Either that, or there's no one left here to panic.