By Hazel Laurenson
The use of atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945 was recognised by contemporaries at epochal. This is an understanding few today would dispute: the event closely pre-dated Victory over Japan Day (VJ Day) and gave birth to unprecedentedly deadly possibilities. Issues of memory and morality, however, have been subject to debate ever since President Truman approved the detonation of ‘Little Boy’ and ‘Fat Man’ (the Hiroshima and Nagasaki bombs respectively). This discourse recently came to the fore of public debate as VJ Day’s 75th anniversary was acknowledged worldwide.
Why were the bombs dropped?
The rationale behind the use of Little Boy and Fat Man remains hotly contested. Curtis LeMay - the US air force chief of staff under Truman who directed the assault over Japan – was driven by the belief that, in pursuit of wartime victory, all courses of action are acceptable. Similarly, the orthodox view - that Truman sanctioned the bombings “to end the war quickly and save countless lives” - was, and is, shared by many. From the 1960s, however, the power of revisionism took hold. Revisionists scrutinised Truman’s administration, branding its strategy as inhumane. It was suggested that the true reason for America unleashing their atomic bomb might have been to expose the Soviet Union to “atomic blackmail” (Stalin’s phrase), inherently suggesting that the Americans – the self-proclaimed champions of the free world and liberty - were guilty of a gross humanitarian ill for the sake of high politics. Advocates of this view importantly emphasise that the sins of the Allies are too often ignored because they were the ‘good guys’, and warn of the dangers of history and morality being defined solely by victors.
Motives, however, are somewhat fickle, and one can usually make them fit any mould when enough effort is deployed. What cannot be disputed are the events. Contrary to Truman’s claim that Hiroshima was an explicitly military target, there were over 300,000 civilians living in Little Boy’s target area. The mushroom cloud rose 50,000 feet into the air, and the blast destroyed everything within a 4.5-mile radius. Between 90,000 and 160,000 people are believed to have been killed: half within 48 hours of the bomb’s detonation, and the remainder from radiation sickness and burns the following year.
How has Japan approached this history?
Unsurprisingly, Japan has struggled with how to remember the events of August 1945. Detached from this confused legacy and incomprehensible pain, one can only imagine the suffering and conflict that those closer to the atrocity are forced to grapple with, and even then, the depth of emotion is impossible to fathom. Haunted by the fear of amnesia, the Hiroshima city government has implemented an initiative to protect the experiences of the hibakusha or ‘bomb-affected people’. To prevent their stories from slipping into the ether as they reach the end of their days, the government has recruited denshosha (‘legacy successors’) volunteers. These individuals undergo 3 years of training, after which they are deemed qualified to retell the hibakusha’s stories.
How has the rest of the world approached this history?
Japan’s reflective measures, however, are somewhat undermined in the forward-facing sphere. Whilst Hiroshima is attempting to protect its cultural legacy, global non-proliferation efforts are proving unfruitful. Following on from President Trump’s withdrawal of the United States from the Iran nuclear deal and Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty, and the absence of nuclear powers’ participation in the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, the Doomsday Clock has moved closer to midnight than ever before.
It is unsurprising that the international legacy of Hiroshima and Nagasaki is difficult to pinpoint. It is undoubtedly significant that, despite their proliferation, nuclear weapons have not been used since 1945, and that in the 31 years before the nuclear age, warfare took over 100 million lives. But we cannot ignore the fact that the Allies only avoided persecution for the war crimes they committed at Hiroshima and Nagasaki due to their historicisation as heroes. Therefore, amidst the muddled memories, this episode has given rise to not just one, but two humanitarian dangers, of arguably equitable severity: that of incarceration, and, more subtly, the danger of accountability evasion. The latter has been perpetuated by the inevitable glorification of the victors, as they have controlled the historical narrative, which, in turn, has precipitated and entrenched national ignorance of the monstrosities committed in the name of war.
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