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People observe a one minute silence during a remembrance service for Korean victims of the atomic bomb on the 75th anniversary of the Nagasaki atomic bombing, on August 9, 2020 in Nagasaki, Japan. In a ceremony that has been scaled back substantially because of Covid-19 coronavirus, Japan will commemorate the 75th anniversary of the atomic bomb that was dropped on Nagasaki by U.S forces in World War 2 killing between 35,000 to 40,000 instantly while many thousands more continued to die for months afterward from the effects of burns, radiation sickness, and other injuries compounded by illness and malnutrition. (Photo: Carl Court/Getty Images)
Poet survivors of the merciless, savage U.S. atomic bombing of Japan guide us to the deepest, most intimate loss and suffering of survivors, the hibakusha.
Give back my Father
give back my Mother.
Give Grandpa,
Grandma back;
Give my sons
and daughters back.Give me back
myself.
Give back
the human race.As long as this life lasts,
this life,Give back Peace
Peace that will never end.
--Sankichi Toge
At 28, Sankichi Toge suffered the atomic bombing at home, 1.8 miles from the epicenter in Hiroshima. After working tirelessly as an anti-war activist, he died at the National Hiroshima Sanatorium at the age of 36. This poem is engraved on his monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.
Poet and writer, Kyoko Hayashi nearly died on August 9, 1945 in the atomic bombing of Nagasaki. She was fourteen years old and working at a factory less than a mile from the epicenter of the atomic explosion. She traveled barefoot for nine hours through the ruins of Nagasaki passing many dead and dying who had been crushed, burned and mutilated beyond recognition.
The unique tragedy of those who lost their lives to the bomb, Hayashi feels, is that the bomb not only deprived them of their lives but also of "their own personal deaths." And for the survivors like herself, "...the shortening of a given life, not being able to live fully-this was the promise made between an atomic bomb and its victims." The bomb changed time for her. "I could not make an appointment longer than a month ahead," given many hibakusha friends died from unpredictable bleeding. "The past is always present and the future is never countable."
In one of her many published stories, Hayashi invents a new calendar, the "A-bomb calendar" which designates 1945 as the first year. Why? "The significance of the birth of Christ or Buddha pales in comparison," with the event that demonstrated that "humans had gained the means to destroy their own species, all other species and the earth."
Fifty-four years after surviving the bomb, she journeyed from Japan to the Trinity Site in New Mexico, site of the first atomic bomb explosion, a national landmark since 1975, and "a hibakusha's birth place," as she deems it. She may be the sole atomic bomb survivor to have made this morbid pilgrimage.
Standing in "Ground Zero" at Trinity Site, she looks out to the red mountains and wilderness beyond and suddenly senses a kinship with desert plants and animals. "Until now as I stand at Trinity Site, I have thought it was we humans who were the first atomic bomb victims on Earth. I was wrong. Here are my senior hibakusha. They are here but cannot cry or yell."
Military Realists
Opposition to nuclear weapons has been unfailingly bipartisan since 1945. Key World War II military leaders from all branches of the armed forces, including generals Eisenhower, Arnold, Marshall and MacArthur; and admirals Leahy, Nimitz and Halsey strongly dissented, for both military and moral reasons, from President Harry Truman's decision to drop the bombs on two civilian Japanese cities, Hiroshima and Nagasaki. At their 40th anniversary reunion in Los Alamos, New Mexico, 70 of 110 physicists who had worked on the atomic bomb signed a statement supporting nuclear disarmament.
No high-level military insider has renounced nuclear weapons so starkly and definitively as retired Air Force General Lee Butler, former commander of the Strategic Air Command that oversaw the entire nuclear arsenal. In December 1996, he used a National Press Club luncheon as his forum to urge his government to take the lead in abolishing all nuclear weapons. "Nuclear war," he said, "is a raging, insatiable beast whose instincts and appetites we pretend to understand but cannot possibly control." Nothing, he concluded, not peace through deterrence, nor national security, justifies these weapons of physical and genetic terror.
The pity here is that he waited until retirement to speak out.
One shaft of light--in this time of U.S. complacence regarding our $1.7 trillion nuclear weapons "modernization" program--are young people. In 2019 the International Committee of the Red Cross polled 16,000 millennials (ages 20-35) from every region of the world regarding the use of nuclear weapons. Overall a great majority (average 84%) responded that the use of nuclear weapons is "never acceptable," with strong agreement from those in nuclear-armed countries.
May the hibakusha and this generation guide us to global abolition of nuclear weapons.
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
Poet survivors of the merciless, savage U.S. atomic bombing of Japan guide us to the deepest, most intimate loss and suffering of survivors, the hibakusha.
Give back my Father
give back my Mother.
Give Grandpa,
Grandma back;
Give my sons
and daughters back.Give me back
myself.
Give back
the human race.As long as this life lasts,
this life,Give back Peace
Peace that will never end.
--Sankichi Toge
At 28, Sankichi Toge suffered the atomic bombing at home, 1.8 miles from the epicenter in Hiroshima. After working tirelessly as an anti-war activist, he died at the National Hiroshima Sanatorium at the age of 36. This poem is engraved on his monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.
Poet and writer, Kyoko Hayashi nearly died on August 9, 1945 in the atomic bombing of Nagasaki. She was fourteen years old and working at a factory less than a mile from the epicenter of the atomic explosion. She traveled barefoot for nine hours through the ruins of Nagasaki passing many dead and dying who had been crushed, burned and mutilated beyond recognition.
The unique tragedy of those who lost their lives to the bomb, Hayashi feels, is that the bomb not only deprived them of their lives but also of "their own personal deaths." And for the survivors like herself, "...the shortening of a given life, not being able to live fully-this was the promise made between an atomic bomb and its victims." The bomb changed time for her. "I could not make an appointment longer than a month ahead," given many hibakusha friends died from unpredictable bleeding. "The past is always present and the future is never countable."
In one of her many published stories, Hayashi invents a new calendar, the "A-bomb calendar" which designates 1945 as the first year. Why? "The significance of the birth of Christ or Buddha pales in comparison," with the event that demonstrated that "humans had gained the means to destroy their own species, all other species and the earth."
Fifty-four years after surviving the bomb, she journeyed from Japan to the Trinity Site in New Mexico, site of the first atomic bomb explosion, a national landmark since 1975, and "a hibakusha's birth place," as she deems it. She may be the sole atomic bomb survivor to have made this morbid pilgrimage.
Standing in "Ground Zero" at Trinity Site, she looks out to the red mountains and wilderness beyond and suddenly senses a kinship with desert plants and animals. "Until now as I stand at Trinity Site, I have thought it was we humans who were the first atomic bomb victims on Earth. I was wrong. Here are my senior hibakusha. They are here but cannot cry or yell."
Military Realists
Opposition to nuclear weapons has been unfailingly bipartisan since 1945. Key World War II military leaders from all branches of the armed forces, including generals Eisenhower, Arnold, Marshall and MacArthur; and admirals Leahy, Nimitz and Halsey strongly dissented, for both military and moral reasons, from President Harry Truman's decision to drop the bombs on two civilian Japanese cities, Hiroshima and Nagasaki. At their 40th anniversary reunion in Los Alamos, New Mexico, 70 of 110 physicists who had worked on the atomic bomb signed a statement supporting nuclear disarmament.
No high-level military insider has renounced nuclear weapons so starkly and definitively as retired Air Force General Lee Butler, former commander of the Strategic Air Command that oversaw the entire nuclear arsenal. In December 1996, he used a National Press Club luncheon as his forum to urge his government to take the lead in abolishing all nuclear weapons. "Nuclear war," he said, "is a raging, insatiable beast whose instincts and appetites we pretend to understand but cannot possibly control." Nothing, he concluded, not peace through deterrence, nor national security, justifies these weapons of physical and genetic terror.
The pity here is that he waited until retirement to speak out.
One shaft of light--in this time of U.S. complacence regarding our $1.7 trillion nuclear weapons "modernization" program--are young people. In 2019 the International Committee of the Red Cross polled 16,000 millennials (ages 20-35) from every region of the world regarding the use of nuclear weapons. Overall a great majority (average 84%) responded that the use of nuclear weapons is "never acceptable," with strong agreement from those in nuclear-armed countries.
May the hibakusha and this generation guide us to global abolition of nuclear weapons.
Poet survivors of the merciless, savage U.S. atomic bombing of Japan guide us to the deepest, most intimate loss and suffering of survivors, the hibakusha.
Give back my Father
give back my Mother.
Give Grandpa,
Grandma back;
Give my sons
and daughters back.Give me back
myself.
Give back
the human race.As long as this life lasts,
this life,Give back Peace
Peace that will never end.
--Sankichi Toge
At 28, Sankichi Toge suffered the atomic bombing at home, 1.8 miles from the epicenter in Hiroshima. After working tirelessly as an anti-war activist, he died at the National Hiroshima Sanatorium at the age of 36. This poem is engraved on his monument at the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park.
Poet and writer, Kyoko Hayashi nearly died on August 9, 1945 in the atomic bombing of Nagasaki. She was fourteen years old and working at a factory less than a mile from the epicenter of the atomic explosion. She traveled barefoot for nine hours through the ruins of Nagasaki passing many dead and dying who had been crushed, burned and mutilated beyond recognition.
The unique tragedy of those who lost their lives to the bomb, Hayashi feels, is that the bomb not only deprived them of their lives but also of "their own personal deaths." And for the survivors like herself, "...the shortening of a given life, not being able to live fully-this was the promise made between an atomic bomb and its victims." The bomb changed time for her. "I could not make an appointment longer than a month ahead," given many hibakusha friends died from unpredictable bleeding. "The past is always present and the future is never countable."
In one of her many published stories, Hayashi invents a new calendar, the "A-bomb calendar" which designates 1945 as the first year. Why? "The significance of the birth of Christ or Buddha pales in comparison," with the event that demonstrated that "humans had gained the means to destroy their own species, all other species and the earth."
Fifty-four years after surviving the bomb, she journeyed from Japan to the Trinity Site in New Mexico, site of the first atomic bomb explosion, a national landmark since 1975, and "a hibakusha's birth place," as she deems it. She may be the sole atomic bomb survivor to have made this morbid pilgrimage.
Standing in "Ground Zero" at Trinity Site, she looks out to the red mountains and wilderness beyond and suddenly senses a kinship with desert plants and animals. "Until now as I stand at Trinity Site, I have thought it was we humans who were the first atomic bomb victims on Earth. I was wrong. Here are my senior hibakusha. They are here but cannot cry or yell."
Military Realists
Opposition to nuclear weapons has been unfailingly bipartisan since 1945. Key World War II military leaders from all branches of the armed forces, including generals Eisenhower, Arnold, Marshall and MacArthur; and admirals Leahy, Nimitz and Halsey strongly dissented, for both military and moral reasons, from President Harry Truman's decision to drop the bombs on two civilian Japanese cities, Hiroshima and Nagasaki. At their 40th anniversary reunion in Los Alamos, New Mexico, 70 of 110 physicists who had worked on the atomic bomb signed a statement supporting nuclear disarmament.
No high-level military insider has renounced nuclear weapons so starkly and definitively as retired Air Force General Lee Butler, former commander of the Strategic Air Command that oversaw the entire nuclear arsenal. In December 1996, he used a National Press Club luncheon as his forum to urge his government to take the lead in abolishing all nuclear weapons. "Nuclear war," he said, "is a raging, insatiable beast whose instincts and appetites we pretend to understand but cannot possibly control." Nothing, he concluded, not peace through deterrence, nor national security, justifies these weapons of physical and genetic terror.
The pity here is that he waited until retirement to speak out.
One shaft of light--in this time of U.S. complacence regarding our $1.7 trillion nuclear weapons "modernization" program--are young people. In 2019 the International Committee of the Red Cross polled 16,000 millennials (ages 20-35) from every region of the world regarding the use of nuclear weapons. Overall a great majority (average 84%) responded that the use of nuclear weapons is "never acceptable," with strong agreement from those in nuclear-armed countries.
May the hibakusha and this generation guide us to global abolition of nuclear weapons.