Japan's anti-nuclear protests: The heat rises PEOPLE power is not a phrase usually associated with Tokyo. A famously buttoned-up city, epitomised by its obedient ranks of identikit commuter salarymen, Tokyo rarely hosts serious protests. The era of the Vietnam war was the last time that large numbers of its citizens got visibly angry over anything. But on July 16th tens of thousands braved 30-degree heat in a central Tokyo park to attend a "Sayonara Nukes" rally. Organisers claimed 170,000 people took part; police said 75,000. Either figure would make it the biggest such demonstration since the earthquake, tsunami and nuclear-power accident of March last year, and perhaps the largest gathering of protesters on the mainland for decades. Suddenly, what had looked like the waning cause of a core of diehard liberals has become a protest movement. For many, the rally was a chance to dust off ancient placards and bullhorns. Yoyogi Park was crowded with the greying remnants of the 1960s and 1970s counter-culture. The stage was dominated by some of Japan's leading (and ageing) anti-nuclear voices, led by Kenzaburo Oe, a 77-year-old writer and Nobel laureate. But the generous sprinkling of ordinary families, as well as the 7.5m signatures that Mr Oe and company claim to have gathered, gave the protest more than nostalgic value. Its fuel was anger. Recent reports into last year's triple Fukushima meltdown 210km (130 miles) away have shown that the world's most crowded metropolis narrowly avoided catastrophe. Though many worry about the economic cost of scrapping nuclear power, others belatedly question the logic of having 54 commercial reactors in a country with one-fifth of the world's strong earthquakes. Even worse, people said, was that the government had restarted at least one nuclear reactor (a second was switched on again on July 18th) while questions still remain about the safety of nuclear power, and about a regulatory structure that took the threat of natural disaster too lightly. "The radiation is still poisoning us and they've already restarted some reactors," said Shinichiro Watanabe, who travelled to the rally from the prefecture that is home to the Fukushima Dai-ichi plant. Why are they in such a rush? One reason is money. Ending the nuclear dream would mean scrapping hundreds of billions of dollars in capital investment and withdrawing from an industry in which Japan is now a world leader. The suspension of almost all reactors since the disaster has increased Japan's bill for oil and gas imports by $100m a day, leaving the country with its first trade deficit in three decades. Explaining his decision to restart some reactors, the prime minister, Yoshihiko Noda, said last month that he had "no choice." He is backed by the country's biggest newspaper, the Yomiuri Shimbun, and the most powerful business lobby, Keidanren, which have repeatedly made dire predictions about Japan's future without reactors. But such warnings have only convinced some that Japan Inc, which promoted nuclear power, has got its hooks into Mr Noda. The government's popularity is weakening. After the walkout from the ruling Democratic Party of Japan of its old warhorse, Ichiro Ozawa, earlier this month, taking 48 party members, four more have left since. Luckily for Mr Noda, so far the public has shown little interest in Mr Ozawa's new party, even though it has taken an anti-nuclear line. But every Friday night, the prime minister can hear now-familiar demonstrations outside his official residence. Hemmed in by police in the sweltering heat, the demonstrators are mostly good-natured. But for how long?