Is This Peace?
Reflections on a visit to Hiroshima
I recently visited Hiroshima for the first time in Japan, and the experience brought up a number of emotions in me. The contradictions abounded. Hiroshima bore witness to one of the most destructive events of the 20th century, but it has rebuilt itself into a vibrant city dedicated to peace and fellowship. Around the world, wars were raging in Gaza, Sudan, Haiti, Myanmar, and Ukraine, but here in Hiroshima that all felt so far away. Out on the Peace Park, you saw children enjoying the festival, while in the Memorial Museum, you heard people weeping from how the children suffered before they died.
Around 140,000 people died in Hiroshima due to the dropping of the atomic bomb on August 6, 1945. At least 80,000 of them were vaporized instantly in the blinding flash, while others were slowly eaten away by the radiation sickness. Three days later, it happened all over again in Nagasaki. A ghastly end to a horrific war which brought the world into the nuclear age. An age which we still have yet to fully escape from.
The trip reminded me of Dave Barry’s book Dave Barry Does Japan. The book is a satirical, but rather accurate description of Japan through the eyes of an American. Dave Barry Does Japan is a funny, light-hearted read, for the most part, until he gets to Hiroshima, then the mood becomes deadly serious. Barry was moved by the gravity of the place, but he found the festivals outside a little bizarre and was somewhat frustrated by the memorial museum’s apparent lack of emphasis on Japan’s own war crimes, which may have motivated the bombing.
The Hiroshima Memorial Museum isn’t very sympathetic to the justifications for the bombing (which is pretty understandable), but it hardly let’s the Japanese military off the hook, either. Things may have changed since Barry’s time, but from my perspective, the museum put a lot of blame at the feet of the Japanese militarists. There was even a special exhibit dedicated to the poor children who were trained to be suicide soldiers who would attack American ships. The museum also promoted the manga Barefoot Gen, which was created by atom bomb survivor Keiji Nakazawa. Anyone who’s read Barefoot Gen knows that it spends just as much time criticizing the Japanese for starting the war as it does the Americans for how they ended it.
As I walked through the Peace Park I wondered to myself if peace on Earth was even feasible. What is peace? What does that mean? I prayed for peace at the memorial, but does that do anything? How many who came here will go back home and be kinder to their neighbors, their spouses, and their children? I don’t know, but I’d like to think many would.
I’m not sure if I know what peace is, but I know what it’s not. Peace is not war, nor is it merely the absence of war. A world where men abuse women, where race hates are inflamed, where the poor fill the streets, where governments abuse their power, where crime runs rampant, and where the the climate becomes more intolerable, is not a peaceful one. It is not enough to be against the war that breaks the nation, but we should also oppose the war that breaks its spirit. As humans, we need purpose and community, and any desire for peace, must help people to achieve those needs.
On the matter of nuclear weapons, we have to face that they won’t go away until we address the problems that make nations want them. For as much as we may like to believe that those who want nukes are pure evil, they are often sought out as a means of national defense. The invasions of Iraq and Ukraine by two superpowers may have convinced many nations that they’ll never be safe without nukes. It is also true, however, that nuclear weapons do not necessarily prevent wars. America’s nuclear arsenal did not deter Al Qaeda. Israel’s secret nukes haven’t stopped Hamas or Hezbollah. India and Pakistan both have nukes, but still get into skirmishes over Kashmir. Nuclear deterrence may have prevented wars between the U.S. and the U.S.S.R. during the Cold War, but it didn’t stop their bloody proxy wars which killed millions in Asia and Latin America. As nuclear weapons continue to proliferate, the temptation to use them will grow, and sooner or later, the taboo which world respected since 1945 will be violated. We are all on borrowed time.
Hiroshima is a miracle. It has rebuilt itself from the graveyard of humanity’s evil into a model of compassion and unity. I saw people from around the globe celebrating in the park, praying for peace, and enjoying the warm weather. If peace can be a real thing, I would like to think that it might be something like that. Maybe one day, Ukraine, Gaza, Myanmar, Sudan, and Haiti will similarly be reborn as gardens of humanity. We can only hope.
I don’t believe that the debate around the bombing of Hiroshima, or Nagasaki for that matter, will ever be definitely resolved. It revolves around too many hypotheticals, too many what-ifs and unknowns. What I can only hope is that the tragedy of the atomic bombings will never be repeated. May we all heed the wisdom of survivors, the hibakusha, while their voices are still with us.
