Personal science isn’t just self-measurement. In Japan:
Kiyoko Okoshi had a simple goal when she spent about $625 for a dosimeter [that measured radioactivity]: she missed her daughter and grandsons and wanted them to come home. Local officials kept telling her that their remote village was safe, even though it was less than 20 miles from the crippled Fukushima Daiichi nuclear power plant. But her daughter remained dubious, especially since no one from the government had taken radiation readings near their home.
So starting in April, Mrs. Okoshi began using her dosimeter to check nearby forest roads and rice paddies. What she found was startling. Near one sewage ditch, the meter beeped wildly, and the screen read 67 microsieverts per hour, a potentially harmful level. Mrs. Okoshi and a cousin who lives nearby worked up the courage to confront elected officials, who did not respond, confirming their worry that the government was not doing its job.
With her simple yet bold act, Mrs. Okoshi joined the small but growing number of Japanese who have decided to step in as the government fumbles its reaction to the widespread contamination, which leaders acknowledge is much worse than originally announced.
Maybe it is obvious that a woman who wants to see her grandchildren yet keep them safe is far more motivated to find the truth than a local politician or even surveyors hired by the government. Personal scientists who study other things have the same motivational advantage. As I have said more than once, I care far more about improving my sleep than any professional scientist.
Mrs. Okoshi misses her daughter and grandchildren very much. Her husband recently died and her daughter’s family left, afraid of nuclear fallout.
“Our life was so lively when the four boys were running around the mountains in the back of the house,” she said.
Personal science channels her emotion in a way that helps everyone around her.