Whose fault is it, anyway?

No, I am not referring to a title of a movie, nor am I wishing to engage in a blame game. But when you think about it, the fault (line, that is) is Japan’s — at least, geographically. Measured at a magnitude of 9.0, the earthquake is the largest Japan has ever experienced and the fifth largest felt by the world, according to a US Geological survey.

Experiencing, on average, around 1,500 earthquakes a year, the Japanese are no strangers to these natural phenomena. In fact, Japan lies within the highly unstable Pacific Ring of Fire (of which the Philippines is also a part of) which is responsible for almost 90 percent of the world’s earthquakes. Minor tremors occur almost daily in certain parts of the country while stronger earthquakes ranging from four to six on the Richter scale are not uncommon. However, as mentioned earlier, never has the country experienced anything like this, particularly since it was followed by a severe tsunami as well as a potential nuclear meltdown (see reference to “Fukushima 50” below). 

In this regard, perhaps it is instructive to remember the Chernobyl incident which, like our Edsa people power revolution, will be celebrating its 25th year anniversary on April 26, 2011. Dubbed as the worst nuclear disaster in all of history, it began during a systems test at reactor No. 4 of the Chernobyl plant in Ukraine. There was a sudden power output surge, and when an emergency shutdown was attempted, a more extreme spike occurred. This led to a reactor vessel rupture and a series of explosions. A fire then ensued which, in turn, sent a plume of radioactive fallout into the atmosphere. More than 50 deaths were directly linked with the meltdown while estimates vary (from 4,000 to nearly a million) as to the total number of deaths indirectly attributable to the nuclear fallout.

Fortuitous event?: In our civil laws, there is a difference between a fortuitous event and force majeure. The former is what we would strictly describe as an Act of God, while the latter connotes the participation of human beings.

In either case, the legal effect would be similar.

According to Article 1174 of the Civil Code, except in cases specified by law, or when it is otherwise declared by stipulation, or when the nature of the obligation requires the assumption of risk, no person shall be responsible for those events which could not be foreseen, or which though foreseen, were inevitable. In the case of Japan’s triple whammy, the earthquake and tsunami are clearly fortuitous events while the nuclear crisis is more of a force majeure. With respect to the latter, if the damage caused is found to be partly the result of a human being’s fault—by active involvement, neglect or failure to act—then the whole occurrence is removed from the rules applicable to 1174. But this is all academic, legal mumbo jumbo at this point.

In any case, the real effect is a challenge to our reality.

“3/11/”: Exactly six months before the 10th anniversary of the “9/11” terrorist bombings, another global game changer is foisted upon us. The death toll continues to climb, and is expected to exceed 10,000. Beyond the alarm that the number rings is the fallout: a post-tsunami/radioactive fallout scenario whose eventuality can be anticipated with near-certainty, but which cannot be fathomed or imagined with clarity.

In the face of all this suffering, questions of liability are misplaced and displaced. Yet, we can expect that human responsibility and the responsibility to be human will be equally displayed, in the coming days. The rhetoric that Japan is a rich nation — and so, undeserving of “help” — will likely be swept under the overwhelming tide of human compassion. Already, efforts are underway for a “poor” country such as ours to provide assistance to our neighbor in need. Regardless of the eventual material reality and outcome, when confronted by the unimaginable, it is a testament to the nature of the magnanimity of the human spirit: that is, that generosity is giving, not because one has much, but simply because one can.

 In this instance, Shakespeare was wrong: “the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars but in ourselves, that we are underlings.” For in this buffet of disasters, we became vanities of the stars. In humble supplication, from looking up to looking around, we find that, as the Greeks knew, “catastrophes” are, in some (good) ways, life’s denouement: the sudden overturning and unknotting that, in the end, knits the fabric of our humanity a little tighter.

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Nuclear Spartans: This week’s four centavos are given to the “Fukushima 50” referring to the crew of Japanese technicians who have risked life and limb to prevent a broader nuclear holocaust. They are working furiously to cool the damaged reactors whose explosion or melt down could result in the release of harmful radioactive material into the atmosphere. Interestingly (or perhaps tragically), the Japanese health ministry has raised the legal limit on the amount of radiation a worker can be exposed. From 100 millisieverts, the new limit was set at 250 millisieverts which is five times the maximum exposure permitted for American nuclear plant workers. Indeed, the “Fukushima 50” reminds me of King Leonidas’ 300 Spartans in the battle of Thermopylae. Despite the odds and risks involved, the Spartans were trained not to flee or surrender, even if it meant their deaths. The quote below was composed in Greek and engraved on the commemorative stone placed on top of the burial mound at Thermopylae.

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“Go tell the Spartans, stranger passing by, that here obedient to their laws, we lie.”     – Simonides

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