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What Would It Mean to Remember Hiroshima Without Hypocrisy?
There is no true way to meaningfully honor its memory while so many countries, including the one that dropped the first bomb, actively prepare for future nuclear war.
Aug 12, 2025
On August 6, 2025, the world marked the 80th anniversary of the American destruction of Hiroshima. As in decades past, Hiroshima Day served to honor the first victims of atomic warfare and to reaffirm the enduring promise that their suffering would not be in vain, that they and the residents of Nagasaki, devastated three days later in 1945, would be the last places to endure such a fate.
Within that commemorative framework, Hiroshima has been effectively rendered an abstraction and reduced to a cautionary tale. With the involuntary sacrifice of that city and its inhabitants, humanity was offered a profound lesson. In the ruins of Hiroshima, the world confronted a vision of nothing less than its own potential end. And awareness of that apocalyptic possibility emerged almost immediately. The very next day, in fact, the American newspaper PM, based in New York, ran an article speculating on the catastrophic consequences of an atomic bomb detonating in the heart of that very city.
For the first time, thanks to Hiroshima, human beings became an endangered species. People everywhere were presented with an existential choice between the quick and the dead, between one world and none. Humanity could recover its moral bearings and pursue the abolition of nuclear weapons and the renunciation of war, or accept the inevitability that such man-made forces would ultimately abolish most or all of us. (Think “nuclear winter.”) Only through the former could we hope for collective redemption rather than collective suicide.
In our annual ritual of remembrance, Hiroshima is recalled not so much as a site of mass slaughter, but as a symbol of peace, hope, and resilience, a testament to our professed commitment to “never again.” Yet this year, such sanitized appeals of official memory rang increasingly hollow. After all, eight decades later, humanity (or at least its leadership) continues to demonstrate that it learned remarkably little from the horrors of Hiroshima.
At this moment, the history of the bomb needs to be reconsidered, not as an isolated development in an increasingly distant past but as inextricably linked to broader questions of mass violence now, including in Gaza.
What, after all, could it mean to commemorate such a moment in a world where today not one, but nine nuclear-armed states hold humanity hostage to the threat of sudden, total annihilation? Worse yet, today’s arsenals contain thousands of thermonuclear weapons, some of them up to 1,000 times more powerful than those dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Worse yet, those arsenals are being “modernized” regularly, the American one to the tune of $1.5 trillion or more as a significant portion of our national resources continues to be siphoned away from meeting human needs and redirected toward preparations for (in)human destruction.
Worse yet, all too many of those weapons remain on hair-trigger alert, poised to extinguish life on Earth in what Daniel Ellsberg, the man who long ago released the top-secret Pentagon Papers, once described as a “single, immense hammer-blow to be executed with the automaticity of a mousetrap at almost any provocation.”
Under this country’s current launch-on-warning posture, President Donald Trump (and any president who follows him) holds sole, unquestioned authority to initiate a retaliatory nuclear strike, with as little as six minutes to decide following an alert about a possible nuclear attack (despite a well-documented history of false alarms). This scenario also presumes that the U.S. would only be acting in “self-defense” in response to a nuclear strike by another nation, although mutually assured destruction renders such concepts obsolete. In reality, that assumption is far from certain. Washington (unlike, for example, Beijing) has never adopted a no-first-use policy and continues to reserve the right to initiate a nuclear strike preemptively.
Moreover, what does it mean to remember Hiroshima in a world where, while no atomic bomb has been dropped on Gaza, the tonnage of “conventional” explosives unleashed there is already equivalent to six Hiroshima bombings? As the nuclear abolitionist organization Nihon Hidankyo, composed of Japanese atomic bomb survivors, warned in the lead-up to being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 2024, the suffering of Gaza’s children all too eerily mirrors their own experiences in Hiroshima.
That city is therefore not merely a past atrocity but an open wound, not simply a lesson of history but an ongoing nightmare. There is, in short, no true way to meaningfully honor its memory while so many countries (my own included) actively prepare for future nuclear war.
At this moment, the history of the bomb needs to be reconsidered, not as an isolated development in an increasingly distant past but as inextricably linked to broader questions of mass violence now, including in Gaza. Such an approach, in fact, would reflect the way the bomb was originally understood by many of the scientists who built it, sensing that it would prove to be what some of them would soon describe as “a weapon of genocide.”
Destroying Cities and Calling it Peace
After those two atomic bombs leveled Hiroshima and Nagasaki, slaughtering up to 210,000 people, the vast majority of them civilians by deliberate design, most Americans responded with relief. Echoing the official narrative, they celebrated the bomb as a triumph of scientific ingenuity and a “winning weapon” associated with bringing a swift and decisive end to World War II, the bloodiest conflict in human history.
Decades of historical scholarship have demonstrated that such a narrative is largely a myth. In the aftermath of those two bombings, a carefully constructed postwar consensus quickly emerged, bolstered by inflated claims that those two bombs were used only as a last resort, that they saved half a million American lives, and, perversely enough, that they constituted a form of “mercy killing” that spared many Japanese civilians. In reality, clear alternatives were then available, rendering the use of nuclear weapons unnecessary and immoral as well as, given the future nuclearization of the planet, strategically self-defeating.
Nonetheless, a war-weary American public overwhelmingly endorsed the bombings. Postwar polls indicated that 85% of them supported a decision made without their knowledge, input, or any form of democratic oversight. Notably, nearly a quarter of respondents expressed a further vengeful, even genocidal disappointment that Japan had surrendered so quickly, denying the United States the opportunity to drop “many more” atomic bombs (although no additional atomic weapons were then available).
It remains unclear whether, had they been ready, Washington would have used them. Despite President Harry Truman’s public posture of steely resolve, his private reflections suggest a deep unease, even horror over their use. As Secretary of Commerce Henry Wallace recorded in his diary, Truman had “given orders to stop atomic bombing. He said the thought of wiping out another 100,000 people was too horrible. He didn’t like the idea of killing, as he said, all those kids.”
Why, then, were most Americans not similarly horrified? As historians John Dower and Ronald Takaki have shown, such exterminationist sentiments were fueled by anti-Asian racism, which framed the Pacific War in the American imagination as a race war. But perhaps more important, the way had been paved for them by the normalization of the practice of devastating area bombing, or more accurately, the terror bombing of both Nazi Germany and Japan.
Over the course of the war, the United States and Great Britain had “perfected” that indiscriminate method of destruction, targeting civilian morale and the collective will and capacity of a nation to sustain its war effort. This came despite the fact that President Franklin D. Roosevelt publicly condemned the aerial bombardment of civilian infrastructure before the U.S. entry into the war as “inhuman barbarism.”
As Daniel Ellsberg observed, when it came to the rapid erosion of ethical restraints under the exigencies of an existential war, “liberal democracies… in fighting an evil enemy, picked up the methods of that enemy and made them into a private ethic that was indistinguishable really from Hitler’s ethic.” That moral collapse would be evident in the devastation wrought upon the German cities of Hamburg and Dresden, as well as in the similar destruction inflicted by the firebombing of Tokyo and other Japanese cities.
That descent into “barbarism” was not lost on contemporary observers. Reflecting on the 1943 Allied bombing of Hamburg, outspoken pacifist Vera Brittain described the destruction as a scene from “the evil nightmare of a homicidal maniac” and as “irrefutable evidence of the moral and spiritual abyss into which Britain and her rulers have descended.” She warned that such actions stemmed from a selective and hypocritical blindness, observing that, “in the Nazis and the Japanese we recognize cruelty when we see it, yet that same cruelty is being created, unperceived, amongst ourselves.”
And such a recognition wasn’t confined to pacifists but extended to policymakers. In response to the devastation caused by the “conventional” bombing campaign against Japan, including the burning to death of as many as 130,000 people in Tokyo in a single night in March 1945, Secretary of War Henry Stimson warned that, if such attacks continued, “we might get the reputation of outdoing Hitler in atrocities.” (The New York Times reported that the bombing of Tokyo may have killed as many as 1-2 million people. While not necessarily accurate, such reporting reflected a broader desensitization to mass death that had come to define the logic of total war, as well as a growing public tolerance among Americans for urbicide, the city-scale slaughter of civilians.)
On Nazi and Nuclear Holocausts
Not everyone in the Allied nations shared in the prevailing atmosphere of apathy or even jubilation over those nuclear bombings. Before the second bomb struck Nagasaki, French philosopher Albert Camus expressed his horror that even in a war defined by unprecedented, industrialized slaughter, Hiroshima stood apart. The destruction of that city, he observed, marked the moment when “mechanistic civilization has come to its final stage of savagery.” Soon after, American cultural critic Dwight Macdonald condemned the bombings in Politics, arguing that they placed Americans “on the same moral plane” as the Nazis, rendering the American people as complicit in the crimes of their government as the German people had been in theirs.
American scholar Lewis Mumford likewise regarded that moment as a profound moral collapse. It marked, he argued in 1959, the point at which the U.S. decided to commit the better part of its national energies to preparation for wholesale human extermination. With the advent of the bomb, Americans accepted their role as “moral monsters,” legitimizing technological slaughter as a permissible instrument of state power. “In principle,” he wrote, “the extermination camps where the Nazis incinerated over 6 million helpless Jews were no different from the urban crematoriums our air force improvised in its attacks by napalm bombs on Tokyo,” laying the groundwork for the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
If we don’t dedicate ourselves to building a world without war and without nuclear weapons, sooner or later we will undoubtedly witness just such devastation on a global and irreversible scale.
The specter of Nazism has always loomed large over the atomic bomb. It was, after all, the fear of a Nazi bomb that first catalyzed the Manhattan Project that would create the American bombs. While the fall of the Nazi regime preceded the use of atomic weapons on Japan by nearly three months, as soft-spoken astronomer Carl Sagan once observed, the ideological imprint of Nazism was etched into the littered landscape of charred bodies and scorched earth of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. It endured in the brutal logic of total war carried forward through the ensuing Cold War arms race with the Soviet Union and culminated in the grotesque accumulation of nuclear arsenals with tens of thousands of world-destroying weapons poised to obliterate humanity.
In a 1986 keynote address before the World Jewish Congress in Jerusalem, “The Final Solution to the Human Problem,” Sagan argued that Hitler “haunts our century… [as] he has shattered our confidence that civilized societies can impose limits on human destructiveness.” In their mutually reinforcing preparations to annihilate one another, erase the past, and foreclose the possibility of future generations, he concluded, “the superpowers have dutifully embraced this legacy… Adolf Hitler lives on.”
Lacking Hitler, Sagan suggested, Washington and Moscow imposed his image on each other. This was necessary because “nuclear weapons represent such a surpassing evil that they can be justified only by an equally evil adversary.” Humanity, he warned, was then locked in a downward spiral into a moral abyss reminiscent of a Greek tragedy. “When we engage in a death struggle with a monster, there is a real danger that we ourselves will, by slow and imperceptible changes, become transmogrified into monsters. We may be the last to notice what is happening to us.”
This influence was evident in the fact that fear of a Nazi bomb had served as the initial impetus for the Manhattan Project and that the future nuclear state would share certain characteristics of the Nazi regime. As psychiatrist Robert Jay Lifton described it, such a state would rely on “the genocidal mentality,” a psychological willingness, combined with the technological capacity and institutional planning necessary to, under certain circumstances, deliberately destroy entire human populations.
No More Hiroshimas
In concluding his 1986 address, Carl Sagan warned that World War II had never truly ended. And in a sense, it hasn’t ended even today, given that nine countries now possess such world-destroying weaponry. After all, were a nuclear war to happen in the years to come, a scenario the most powerful states have spent the past 80 years preparing for and making ever more likely, the Allies will have retroactively lost the war. In the radioactive ruins of what was once Washington and New York, Leningrad, Moscow, and Beijing, New Delhi, and Islamabad, no less potentially across much of the rest of this planet, we would witness “the fulfillment of Hitler’s last and maddest vision.”
Such a future is anything but hypothetical. It may, in some sense, already be unfolding around us. It takes no great imagination to envision Hiroshima in the wreckage of Gaza or in the increasingly bombed-out cities of Ukraine. And that’s just a hint of the future, were nuclear weapons ever to be used. If we don’t dedicate ourselves to building a world without war and without nuclear weapons, sooner or later we will undoubtedly witness just such devastation on a global and irreversible scale.
To survive as a species and preserve our humanity, we must, as Dwight Macdonald urged us in August 1945, begin to think “dangerous” thoughts “of sabotage, resistance, rebellion, and the fraternity of all [people] everywhere.” Only then could we commemorate Hiroshima Day without the hypocrisy of talking peace while endlessly preparing for a world-ending war. Only then could we begin to fulfill the enduring promise of never again, no more Hiroshimas.
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Rumeysa Ozturk’s Abduction Threatens More Than Free Speech
The Trump administration is targeting “the best and the brightest” immigrants with SS tactics in broad daylight. Will we let them get away with it?
Apr 06, 2025
Almost no one who knew her can find a bad word to say about Rumeysa Ozturk, the doctoral candidate who was abducted by masked ICE agents on March 25. Tufts University President Sunil Kumar has come to her defense, as well as religious leaders such as Rabbi Dan Slipakoff, and numerous alumni. Her closest defender is her colleague and advisor Reyyan Bilge, who regards Ms. Ozturk’s abduction as “a betrayal of American values.” So do I—and for me, it’s personal. Not because I’m Turkish or an academic, but because I’m an American writer whose main subject is the anti-Nazi resistance in the Netherlands. And I live in Vermont, which shouldn’t have had anything to do with it.
The video of Ms. Ozturk’s abduction is the worst nightmare we might have about what could happen to someone we love, or to us. She is walking along the street in broad daylight, on her way to break the Ramadan fast at an interfaith center. It all happens so fast—first a few masked officers; she screams; then she is surrounded by both women and men who slip out of unmarked cars. They forcibly take her phone, and handcuff her behind her back to ensure that this dangerous scholar of child study and human development cannot harm them. A Fulbright scholar invited to the United States because of her exceptional abilities, Rumeysa Ozturk’s high, terrified voice tells us that she wasn’t watching for these thugs to come after her, on the clean streets near her university.
I’ve seen all this happen in historic photo after photo, but having it come to life in Medford, Massachusetts slips us in time from one era to another, from one place to another. It takes me back to an idyllic stay in Amsterdam in 2001, when I found a 1941 photograph showing Jewish neighbors being rounded up on my doorstep. That changed my relationship to the city forever, and launched 13 years of research and writing about how good people colluded with the Nazis by doing nothing, and how a courageous handful resisted.
The authoritarian playbook will target writers and thinkers first.
When one of the five masked officers who surrounded Rumeysa Ozturk said, “We’re police,” was that supposed to reassure her? Does any common criminal have the capacity to kidnap someone across state lines and hold her for days in prison? Would that not be a federal crime if the federal government were not committing it? What was it that made her say, “OK, OK?” Was she making the transition from fearing that she would be robbed or raped to realizing that these people, even if masked, might actually be legitimate? Are they?
Rumeysa Ozturk is being persecuted because she is a writer who exercised her right of free speech. The government which transported her from Massachusetts to New Hampshire, then to Vermont, then to Louisiana, has brought no specific evidence that she was supporting Hamas. Her only “crime” is coauthoring an op-ed urging her university to acknowledge the genocide of more than 50,000 Palestinians, and to divest from related investment. The piece does not mention Hamas. While these positions may be offensive to the Trump administration, they are examples of the free speech people come to this country to secure—and which our ancestors fought to establish. PEN USA has taken a stand along with free speech organizations, but even more individual writers and others should demand that Ms. Ozturk be released.
Within hours, thousands gathered to protest what happened right there, on their streets. In the background of the security video, someone seems to be asking, “Why are you wearing masks?” Now we know. There are so many steps where Ms. Ozturk was denied equal protection under the law: when her visa was revoked without her knowledge, when she was accosted by masked ICE agents, when she was abducted, and now that she is being held without her consent. No one has put forward evidence that Ms. Ozturk ever spoke at a rally or even attended one, although she would have been within her rights to do so. She simply wrote what she believed.
Because of a court filing, we know that her lawyer wasn’t quite fast enough to get a judicial order to prevent Ms. Ozturk from being moved out of Massachusetts until she was already gone—or so the government claims. They whisked her across multiple state lines almost immediately, no doubt with this very thing in mind. It’s less than 40 miles to the New Hampshire border, then about an hour and a half to Lebanon, where they held her temporarily. But within a few hours, she was 26 miles north of my city of Burlington, Vermont, in the ICE holding tank in St. Albans, Vermont. The next morning, they took her to the airport which is only two miles from my home, and transported her to Louisiana. The highway they took her on—to St. Albans and then back to the Burlington airport—is so close that I can walk there in 15 minutes. In summer, I can hear the cars passing on it.
Until the last few weeks, my biggest fear has been for people like Vermont’s dairy workers who don’t have the class privilege that will motivate others to take up their cause with resources and alacrity. People who don’t have a lawyer they can call. I still fear for them, but now I realize that the authoritarian playbook will target writers and thinkers first. They don’t even have to be brown to be persecuted. We see it across the country now: Russians, French, Turkish, Palestinian.
For years, I’ve been speaking about collusion and collaboration with the Nazis. Now I feel the weight of those dilemmas intimately and personally. Is it OK for me to enjoy a beautiful meal or the coming of spring? I must, if only for my own sanity. But I must also think every day of Rumeysa Ozturk and what I can do about and for her. Otherwise, I might as well be the woman who obeyed the Nazis and drew the curtains of my Amsterdam apartment as the Jews were being rounded up on her doorstep.
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Jewish Americans Say GOP's Phony Charges of Antisemitism Only Empower Trump's Authoritarianism
"Distorting the meaning of antisemitism and making Jews the face of a campaign to crush free speech is deeply dangerous to Jewish Americans and all of us who work for collective liberation."
Mar 05, 2025
A video shown at the beginning of a hearing on antisemitism held by the U.S. Senate Judiciary Committee on Wednesday set the tone for the Republican Party's approach to the issue, with the GOP-led panel featuring images of student protesters against Israel's U.S.-backed assault on Gaza—but none of Elon Musk, a top adviser to President Donald Trump, publicly displaying a Nazi salute at an inauguration event in January.
Beth Miller, political director for Jewish Voice for Peace (JVP) Action, said she was "shocked" by the omission, but argued that "the Trump administration and its allies in Congress are operating under the guise of fighting antisemitism, while actually working to attack the Palestinian rights movement, universities, and civil liberties."
The hearing, said Miller, is consistent with the threat Trump issued Tuesday to student organizers who take part in protests like those that spread across the U.S. last year in support of Palestinian rights, when he said he would "jail and deport" students and pull federal funding from schools that allow what he called "illegal protests."
"The GOP does not care about Jewish safety," said Miller. "This is political theater."
One witness called by the committee Democrats was Kevin Rachlin, Washington director of the Nexus Project, which promotes government action against antisemitism. Rachlin testified that while seeing Musk display a Nazi salute at an event for the president was "beyond terrifying for American Jews," what was "most troubling" about Musk's actions was the "lack of condemnation" from Trump's own party.
Leading antisemitism expert: Seeing the Nazi salute on the most prestigious platform in the country is beyond terrifying for American Jews.
What's most troubling? Lacking condemnation when "public figures like Steve Bannon and Elon Musk advance antisemitic conspiracy theories.” pic.twitter.com/dY5BjeBXk3
— Senate Judiciary Democrats 🇺🇸 (🦋 now on bsky) (@JudiciaryDems) March 5, 2025
Republicans called three people to testify: Adela Cojab, a legal fellow at the National Jewish Advocacy Center; Alyza Lewin, president of the Louis D. Brandeis Center for Human Rights Under Law; and Asra Nomani, editor of the Pearl Project. All three witnesses suggested students who oppose Israel's violent policies in Palestine, not the far right, are the propelling force behind antisemitism in the U.S.—despite the fact that many Jewish students organized, participated in, and supported the campus protests that spread nationwide last year and reported that pro-Israel counter-protesters were largely responsible for making demonstrations unsafe.
Nomani warned that antisemitism "has become an industry," but the advocacy group Bend the Arc: Jewish Action suggested her words carried little credibility considering she was "talking about student protesters... not Trump, Musk, and their enablers in Congress who are actively wielding the machinery of antisemitism and making Jews in America less safe."
Cojab called for the official adoption of the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance's (IHRA) working definition of antisemitism, which uses examples of antisemitism including "denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination, i.e. by claiming that the existence of a state of Israel is a racist endeavor," and "drawing comparisons of contemporary Israeli policy to that of the Nazis"—suggesting that statements by Israeli officials calling for the "cleansing" of Gaza and Israel's blocking of humanitarian aid to Gaza should never be referred to as genocidal actions.
Miller noted that the IHRA's definition is "opposed by Jewish, Palestinian, and Israeli groups, as well as civil liberties organizations like the ACLU," and urged viewers to tell their senators to oppose the Antisemitism Awareness Act, which would codify the IHRA's definition.
Barry Trachtenberg, presidential chair of Jewish History at Wake Forest University and a member of JVP's academic advisory council, warned that "distorting the meaning of antisemitism and making Jews the face of a campaign to crush free speech is deeply dangerous to Jewish Americans and all of us who work for collective liberation."
JVP Action warned that although the hearing "will do nothing to promote Jewish safety, it will expand authoritarian policies to dismantle civil liberties, and enable the MAGA Right to score cheap political points."
Bend the Arc credited Ranking Member Sen. Dick Durbin for pointing to Musk's amplifying of the far-right, Nazi-aligned Alternative for Germany political party ahead of February's elections, the promotion of the antisemitic Great Replacement conspiracy theory by Trump and others on the far right, and the president's dismantling of the Department of Education's Office of Civil Rights as evidence that "Trump administration actions do NOT make Jews safer."
Meirav Solomon, a Jewish student at Tufts University and co-vice president of J Street U's New England branch, testified that "Congress and the Trump administration are abandoning the most effective tool the government has to fight antisemitism in all of its forms."
"The Department of Education's Office of Civil Rights (OCR) handles cases of discrimination and harassment against Jewish students, providing a crucial avenue for Jews and other minorities to advocate for our rights," said Solomon. "This administration has suspended thousands of OCR investigations and no longer allows students or their families to file complaints, and now the office's future is uncertain."
Jewish college student and advocate against antisemitism: The actions of the Trump Administration are divisive, and they erode the rights and freedoms that've allowed American Jews to flourish.
Our future depends on your commitment to protect pluralism and democracy. pic.twitter.com/SwSJ10tMic
— Senate Judiciary Democrats 🇺🇸 (🦋 now on bsky) (@JudiciaryDems) March 5, 2025
Solomon called on lawmakers on the committee to "be honest about the most urgent threat to the Jewish community. It is not student protesters but the bloody legacy of Pittsburgh and Poway, Charlottesville and the Capitol riot."
Ahead of the hearing, Bryn Mawr College student Ellie Baron told JVP Action that organizers must "continue working to dismantle real antisemitism while also defending our friends and community members who are falsely accused of antisemitism. The only way forward is through forging greater solidarity with all people who are targeted by fascism and supremacist ideologies, including antisemitism and anti-Palestinian racism."
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