There is a specific brand of human idiocy that requires a decade of cooling before it can be reheated and served back to the public as 'progress.' Tokyo Electric Power Company (Tepco), the same illustrious organization that transformed the 2011 Fukushima Daiichi disaster into a global masterclass on catastrophic mismanagement, has finally decided that thirteen years is exactly long enough for the world to forget what a meltdown looks like. On Wednesday, they flipped the switch on the No. 6 reactor at the Kashiwazaki-Kariwa complex. It is a moment that perfectly encapsulates our species' relentless commitment to repeating its own failures for the sake of a balanced ledger.

The Kashiwazaki-Kariwa complex, situated in Niigata Prefecture, is not just any power plant; it is the world’s largest by output when fully operational. Because, of course, if you are going to tempt the Fates with a radiological disaster, you might as well do it on a scale that ensures no one within a thousand-mile radius can claim they weren't invited to the party. The restart of the No. 6 reactor marks the 15th nuclear unit to be brought back online in Japan since the 2011 catastrophe, but this one carries the special, pungent aroma of Tepco’s involvement. It is the corporate equivalent of an arsonist being handed a box of matches because they promised they’ve read a very informative pamphlet on fire safety.

The official narrative, predictably, is draped in the suffocating language of 'scrutiny' and 'safety measures.' We are told that the utility’s measures will be 'closely watched.' One must wonder what, exactly, this watching entails. Is there a bureaucrat with a clipboard standing next to the cooling towers, nodding solemnly every time a pipe doesn't burst? The reality is that 'scrutiny' is merely the liturgical incense burned by regulators to mask the stench of economic desperation. Tepco needs to 'turn around its business.' This is the true driver of the restart. It isn’t about energy independence, or carbon footprints, or the lofty goals of a sustainable future. It is about a company that is drowning in the multi-billion-dollar costs of its own previous incompetence needing to generate enough cash to pretend it isn't bankrupt.

The absurdity of the situation is breathtaking. To pay for the cleanup of a nuclear disaster, the solution is to generate more nuclear power under the same management that failed the first time. It is a fiscal and physical Ponzi scheme. The Right-wing cheerleaders in the Japanese government will tout this as a win for national security and the economy, ignoring the fact that a nation’s security is somewhat compromised when its coastline becomes a no-go zone. Meanwhile, the performative Left will hold their vigils and wave their banners, as if the laws of physics or the demands of the global energy market give a single damn about their moral outrage. Both sides are locked in a dance of utter futility, while Tepco keeps its hand on the throttle.

Historically, humanity has a pathetic track record with 'lessons learned.' We don’t learn lessons; we just wait for the scar tissue to become thick enough that we can no longer feel the original wound. The 2011 disaster was supposed to be a 'never again' moment, a catalyst for a global shift in how we perceive risk and corporate accountability. Instead, it became a temporary inconvenience, a line item in a budget that eventually got smoothed over by time and the public's notoriously short attention span. We are now in the era of 'radiological theater,' where the appearance of safety is more important than the reality of it. If the No. 6 reactor hums along without exploding for a few years, Tepco will be hailed as a phoenix rising from the ashes, rather than a lucky gambler who haven't hit their losing streak yet.

There is something deeply insulting about the boredom with which this news is received. We should be screaming, but instead, we check the stock prices. The Niigata Prefecture northwest of Tokyo is now the testing ground for the theory that lightning—or in this case, a massive cooling system failure—doesn't strike twice in the same corporate structure. Tepco is betting its future on the hope that the world’s largest nuclear plant is too big to fail. History, however, has a nasty habit of showing us that the bigger things are, the more spectacular the debris field. As the No. 6 reactor begins its slow climb toward full operation, we sit in the dark, waiting for the next bright flash of 'unexpected' reality to remind us that corporate business turnarounds are a poor substitute for actual competence. But don't worry, I'm sure someone is watching very closely.