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August
5, 2003
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Tracking You Through the Mail
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Nike's Full Court Press Breaks Down
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Nightlife in Jerusalem
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|
Hiroshima
and Nagasaki Day
August 6, 2003
The
Living Myths About Nuclear Murder
Remembering
Hiroshima and Nagasaki
By
DAVID KRIEGER
At 1:45 a.m. on August 6, 1945, a US B-29 bomber,
named Enola Gay, took off from Tinian Island in the Mariana
Islands. It carried the world's second atomic bomb, the first
having been detonated three weeks earlier at a US test site
in Alamogordo, New Mexico. The Enola Gay carried one atomic
bomb, with an enriched uranium core. The bomb had been named
"Little Boy." It had an explosive force of some 12,500
tons of TNT. At 8:15 a.m. that morning, as the citizens of Hiroshima
were beginning their day, the Enola Gay released its horrific
cargo, which fell for 43 seconds before detonating at 580 meters
above Shima Hospital near the center of the city.
Here is a description from a pamphlet
published by the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Museum of what happened
immediately following the explosion:
"The temperature of the air at the
point of explosion reached several million degrees Celsius (the
maximum temperature of conventional bombs is approximately 5,000
degrees Celsius). Several millionths of a second after the
explosion a fireball appeared, radiating white heat. After 1/10,000th
of a second, the fireball reached a diameter of approximately
28 meters with a temperature of close to 300,000 degrees Celsius.
At the instant of the explosion, intense heat rays and radiation
were released in all directions, and a blast erupted with incredible
pressure on the surrounding air."
As a result of the blast, heat and ensuing
fires, the city of Hiroshima was leveled and some 90,000 people
in it perished that day. The world's second test of a nuclear
weapon demonstrated conclusively the awesome power of nuclear
weapons for killing and maiming. Schools were destroyed and
their students and teachers slaughtered. Hospitals with their
patients and medical staffs were obliterated. The bombing of
Hiroshima was an act of massive destruction of a civilian population,
the destruction of an entire city with a single bomb. Harry
Truman, president of the United States, upon being notified,
said, in egregiously poor judgment, "This is the greatest
thing in history."
Three days after destroying Hiroshima,
after failing to find an opening in the clouds over its primary
target of the city of Kokura, a US B-29 bomber, named Bockscar,
attacked the Japanese city of Nagasaki with the world's third
atomic weapon. This bomb had a plutonium core and an explosive
force of some 22,000 tons of TNT. It had been named "Fat
Man." The attack took place at 11:02 a.m. It resulted in
the immediate deaths of some 40,000 people.
In his first speech to the US public
about the bombing of Hiroshima, which he delivered on August
9, 1945, the day the atomic bomb was dropped on Nagasaki, Harry
Truman reported: "The world will note that the first atomic
bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, a military base. That was because
we wished in this first attack to avoid, insofar as possible,
the killing of civilians." While Hiroshima did have a military
base in the city, it was not the base that was targeted, but
the center of the city. The vast majority of the victims in
Hiroshima were ordinary civilians, including large numbers
of women and children. Truman continued, "But that attack
is only a warning of things to come." Truman went on to
refer to the "awful responsibility which has come to us,"
and to "thank God that it has come to us, instead of to
our enemies." He prayed that God "may guide us to
use it in His ways and for His purpose." It was a chilling
and prophetic prayer.
By the end of 1945, some 145,000 people
had died in Hiroshima, and some 75,000 people had died in Nagasaki.
Tens of thousands more suffered serious injuries. Deaths among
survivors of the bombings have continued over the years due
primarily to the effects of radiation poisoning.
Now looking back at these terrible events,
inevitably our collective memory has faded and is reshaped by
current perspectives. With the passage of time, those who actually
experienced the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki have become
far fewer in number. Although their own memories of the trauma
to themselves and their cities may remain vivid, their stories
are unknown by large portions of the world's population. The
message of the survivors has been simple, clear and consistent:
"Never Again!" At the Memorial Cenotaph in Hiroshima
Peace Memorial Park is this inscription: "Let all souls
here rest in peace; for we shall not repeat the evil."
The "we" in the inscription refers to all of us and
to each of us.
Yet, the fate of the world, and particularly
the fate of humanity, may hang on how we remember Hiroshima
and Nagasaki. If we remember the bombings of these cities as
just another point in human history, along with many other
important points, we may well lack the political will to deal
effectively with the challenges that nuclear weapons pose to
humanity. If, on the other hand, we remember these bombings
as a turning point in human history, a time at which peace became
an imperative, we may still find the political will to save
ourselves from the fate that befell the inhabitants of these
two cities.
In the introduction to their book, Hiroshima
in America, Robert Jay Lifton and Greg Mitchell write, "You
cannot understand the twentieth century without Hiroshima."
The same may be said of the twenty-first century. The same may
be said of the nuclear predicament that confronts humanity.
Neither our time nor our future can be adequately understood
without understanding what happened at Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
Since the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
there has been a struggle for memory. The story of the bombings
differs radically between what has been told in America and
how the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki recount this tragedy.
America's rendition is a story of triumph triumph of technology
and triumph in war. It views the bomb from above, from the perspective
of those who dropped it. For the vast majority of US citizens,
the creation of the bomb has been seen as a technological feat
of extraordinary proportions, giving rise to the most powerful
weapon in the history of warfare. From this perspective, the
atomic bombs made possible the complete defeat of Japanese imperial
power and brought World War II to an abrupt end.
In the minds of many, if not most US
citizens, the atomic bombs saved the lives of perhaps a million
US soldiers, and the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki is
seen as a small price to pay to save so many lives and bring
a terrible war to an end. This view leaves the impression that
bombing these cities with atomic weapons was useful, fruitful
and an occasion to be celebrated.
The problem with this rendition of history
is that the need for dropping the bombs to end the war has been
widely challenged by historians. Many scholars, including Lifton
and Mitchell, have questioned the official US account of the
bombings. These critics have variously pointed out that Japan
was attempting to surrender at the time the bombs were dropped,
that the US Army Strategic Survey calculated far fewer US casualties
from an invasion of Japan, and that there were other ways to
end the war without using the atomic bombs on the two Japanese
cities.
Among the critics of the use of nuclear
weapons at Hiroshima and Nagasaki were leading US military figures.
General Dwight Eisenhower, Supreme Allied Commander Europe during
World War II and later US president, described his reaction
upon having been told by Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson
that atomic bombs would be used on Japanese cities:
"During his recitation of the relevant
facts, I had been conscious of a feeling of depression and so
I voiced to him my grave misgivings, first on the basis of my
belief that Japan was already defeated and that dropping the
bomb was completely unnecessary, and secondly because I thought
that our country should avoid shocking world opinion by the
use of a weapon whose employment was, I thought, no longer
mandatory as a measure to save American lives. It was my belief
that Japan was, at that very moment, attempting to surrender
with a minimum loss of 'face'. . . ."
In a post-war interview, Eisenhower told
a journalist, "...the Japanese were ready to surrender
and it wasn't necessary to hit them with that awful thing."
General Henry "Hap" Arnold,
Commanding General of the US Army Air Forces during World War
II, wrote, "It always appeared to us that, atomic bomb
or no atomic bomb, the Japanese were already on the verge of
collapse."
Truman's Chief of Staff, Admiral William
D. Leahy, wrote,
"It is my opinion that the use of
this barbarous weapon at Hiroshima and Nagasaki was of no material
assistance in our war against Japan. The Japanese were already
defeated and ready to surrender.... My own feeling was that
in being the first to use it, we had adopted an ethical standard
common to the barbarians of the Dark Ages. I was not taught
to make war in that fashion, and wars cannot be won by destroying
women and children...."
Despite these powerful statements of
dissent from US World War II military leaders, there is still
a strong sense in the United States and among its allies that
the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were justified by the
war. There is insufficient recognition that the victims of the
bombings were largely civilians, that those closest to the epicenters
of the explosions were incinerated, while those further away
were exposed to radiation poisoning, that many suffered excruciatingly
painful deaths, and that even today, more than five decades
after the bombings, survivors continue to suffer from the effects
of the radiation exposure.
The bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
are in the past. We cannot resurrect these cities. The residents
of these cities have done this for themselves. What we can do
is learn from their experience. What they have to teach is perhaps
humanity's most important lesson: We are confronted by the
possibility of our extinction as a species, not simply the reality
of our individual deaths, but the death of humanity. This possibility
became evident at Hiroshima. The great French existential writer,
Albert Camus, wrote in the immediate aftermath of the bombing
of Hiroshima:
"Our technical civilization has
just reached its greatest level of savagery. We will have to
choose, in the more or less near future, between collective
suicide and the intelligent use of our scientific conquests.
Before the terrifying prospects now available to humanity, we
see even more clearly that peace is the only battle worth waging.
This is no longer a prayer but a demand to be made by all peoples
to their governments a demand to choose definitively between
hell and reason."
To rely upon nuclear weapons for security
is to put the future of our species and most of life at risk
of annihilation. Humanity is faced with a choice: Eliminate
nuclear weapons or continue to run the risk of them eliminating
us. Unless we recognize this choice and act upon it, we face
the possibility of a global Hiroshima.
Living with Myths
In his book, The Myths of August, former
US Secretary of the Interior Stewart Udall writes:
"In the first weeks after Hiroshima,
extravagant statements by President Truman and other official
spokesmen for the US government transformed the inception of
the atomic age into the most mythologized event in American
history. These exhilarating, excessive utterances depicted a
profoundly altered universe and produced a reorientation of
thought that influenced the behavior of nations and changed
the outlook and the expectations of the inhabitants of this
planet."
Many myths have grown up around the bombings
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that have the effect of making the
use of nuclear weapons more palatable. To restate, one such
myth is that there was no choice but to use nuclear weapons
on these cities. Another is that doing so saved the lives of
in excess of one million US soldiers. Underlying these myths
is a more general myth that US leaders can be expected to do
what is right and moral. To conclude that our leaders did the
wrong thing by acting immorally at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, slaughtering
civilian populations, flies in the face of this widespread understanding
of who we are as a people. To maintain our sense of our own
decency, reflected by the actions of our leaders, may require
us to bend the facts to fit our myths.
When a historical retrospective of the
bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki which was to include the
reservations of US military leaders such as Eisenhower, Arnold
and Leahy was planned for the fiftieth anniversary commemorations
of these events at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington,
a major outcry of opposition arose from veteran's groups and
members of the US Congress. In the end, the Smithsonian exhibition
was reduced under pressure from a broad historical perspective
on the bombings to a display and celebration of the Enola Gay,
the B-29 that dropped the bomb on Hiroshima.
Our Myths Help Shape
Our Ethical Perspectives
Our understanding of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
helps to give rise to our general orientation toward nuclear
weapons. Because of our myths about the benefits of using nuclear
weapons at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, there is a tendency to view
nuclear weapons in a positive light. Despite the moral issues
involved in destroying civilian populations, most US citizens
can justify reliance on such weapons for our "protection."
A good example of this rationalization is found in the views
of many students at the University of California about the role
of their university in the management of the US nuclear weapons
laboratories.
Recently, I spoke to a class of students
at the University of California at Santa Barbara. I presented
the students with a hypothetical situation. They were asked
to imagine that they were students at a prestigious German university
during the 1930s after the Nazis had come to power. They discovered
a secret laboratory at their university where professors were
researching and developing gas chambers and incinerators for
the Nazis to use in exterminating their enemies. I then posed
the question: What were their ethical responsibilities after
making this discovery?
The hypothetical generated a lively discussion.
The students took their ethical responsibilities within the
hypothetical situation seriously. They realized that there would
be danger in overtly opposing the development of these genocidal
devices. Nonetheless, they were willing to take risks to prevent
the university from going forward with their program to develop
the gas chambers and incinerators. Some were ready to go to
the authorities at the university to protest. Others were prepared
to form small groups and make plans to secretly sabotage the
program. Others were intent upon escaping the country to let
the world know what was happening in order to bring international
pressure to bear upon the Nazi regime. The students were not
neutral and most expressed a strong desire to act courageously
in opposition to this university program, even if their futures
and possibly their lives would be at risk.
After listening to the impressive ethical
stands that the students were willing to take and congratulating
them, I changed the hypothetical. I asked them to consider that
it was now some 70 years later and that they were students at
the University of California in the year 2003. This, of course,
is not hypothetical. The students are in fact enrolled at the
University of California at Santa Barbara. I asked them to imagine
that their university, the University of California, was involved
in the research and development of nuclear weapons, that their
university managed the US nuclear weapons laboratories that
had researched and developed nearly all of the nuclear weapons
in the US arsenal. This also happens to be true since the University
of California has long managed the US nuclear weapons laboratories
at Los Alamos and Livermore.
After presenting the students with this
scenario, I asked them to consider their ethical responsibilities.
I was expecting that they would reach similar conclusions to
the first hypothetical, that they would express dismay at discovering
that their university was involved in the research and development
of weapons of mass destruction and would be prepared to oppose
this situation. This time, however, only a small number of students
expressed the same sense of moral outrage at their university's
involvement and indicated a willingness to take risks in protesting
this involvement. Many of the students felt that they had no
ethical responsibilities under these circumstances.
Many students sought to distinguish the
two scenarios. In the first scenario, some said, it was known
that the gas chambers and incinerators were to be used for the
purpose of committing genocide. In the second scenario, the
one they were actually living in, they didn't believe that the
nuclear weapons would be used. They pointed out that nuclear
weapons had not been used for more than 50 years and, therefore,
they thought it was unlikely that they would be used in the
future. Further, they didn't think that the United States would
actually use nuclear weapons because our leaders would feel
constrained from doing so. Finally, they thought that the United
States had a responsibility to defend itself, which they believed
nuclear weapons would do.
Frankly, I was surprised by the results
of this exercise. I had expected that the students would oppose
both scenarios and that their idealism would call for protest
against their university's management of the nuclear weapons
laboratories. In the second scenario, however, they had many
rationales and/or rationalizations for not becoming involved.
This scenario was not hypothetical. It was real. It would actually
demand something of them. Many were reluctant to commit themselves.
Most had accepted the mythology about our leaders doing the
right thing and the further mythology about nuclear weapons
protecting us. They had not thought through the risks associated
with possessing and deploying large numbers of nuclear weapons.
They had not considered the risks of accidents and miscalculations,
the dangers of faulty communications and irrational leaders.
They had not considered the possibilities that deterrence could
fail and the result could be future Hiroshimas and Nagasakis,
in fact, globalized Hiroshimas and Nagasakis.
Most of the students were able to avoid
accepting personal responsibility for the involvement of their
university in the process of developing weapons of mass destruction.
Some also dismissed their personal responsibility on the basis
that the university did not belong solely to them and that
in fact nuclear weapons were a societal problem. They were,
of course, right about this: nuclear weapons are a societal
problem. Unfortunately, it is a problem for which far too few
individuals are taking personal ethical responsibility. The
students represented a microcosm of a larger societal problem
of indifference and inaction in the face of our present reliance
on nuclear weapons. The result of this inaction is tragically
the likelihood that eventually these weapons will again be used
with horrendous consequences for humanity.
Making the Nuclear
Weapons Threat Real
Just as most of these students do not
take personal ethical responsibility to protest involvement
in nuclear weapons research and development by their university,
most leaders and potential leaders of nuclear weapons states
do not accept the necessity of challenging the nuclear status
quo and working to achieve nuclear disarmament.
What helped me to understand the horrendous
consequences and risks of nuclear weapons was a visit to the
memorial museums at Hiroshima and Nagasaki when I was 21 years
old. These museums keep alive the memory of the destructiveness
of the relatively small nuclear weapons that were used on these
two cities. They also provide a glimpse into the human suffering
caused by nuclear weapons. I have long believed that a visit
to one or both of these museums should be a requirement for
any leader of a nuclear weapons state. Without visiting these
museums and being exposed by film, artifacts and displays to
the devastation that nuclear weapons cause, it is difficult
to grasp the extent of the destructiveness of these devices.
One realizes that nuclear weapons are not even weapons at all,
but something far more ominous. They are instruments of genocide
and perhaps omnicide, the destruction of all.
To the best of my knowledge, no head
of state or government of a nuclear weapons state has actually
visited these museums before or during his or her term in office.
If political leaders will not make the effort to visit the
sites of nuclear devastation, then it is necessary for the people
of their countries to bring the message of these cities to them.
But first, of course, the people must themselves be exposed
to the stories and messages of these cities. It is unrealistic
to expect that many people will travel to Hiroshima or Nagasaki
to visit the memorial museums, but it is not unrealistic to
bring the messages of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to communities
all over the world.
In Santa Barbara, where the Nuclear Age
Peace Foundation is located, we have tried to bring the message
of Hiroshima to our community and beyond. On the 50th anniversary
of the bombing of Hiroshima we created a peace memorial garden
that we named Sadako Peace Garden. The name Sadako comes from
that of a young girl, Sadako Sasaki, who was exposed to radiation
as a two-year-old in Hiroshima when the bomb fell. Sadako lived
a normal life for the next ten years until she developed leukemia
as a result of the radiation exposure. During her hospitalization,
Sadako folded paper cranes in the hopes of recovering her health.
The crane is a symbol of health and longevity in Japan, and
it is believed that if one folds one thousand paper cranes they
will have their wish come true. Sadako wished to regain her
health and for peace in the world. On one of her paper cranes
she wrote this short poem, "I will write peace on your
wings and you will fly all over the world."
Sadako did not finish folding her one
thousand paper cranes before her short life came to an end.
Her classmates, however, responded to Sadako's courage and her
wish for peace by finishing the job of folding the thousand
paper cranes. Soon Sadako's story began to spread, and throughout
Japan children folded paper cranes in remembrance of her and
her wish for peace. Tens of thousands of paper cranes poured
into Hiroshima from all over Japan. Eventually, Sadako's story
spread throughout the world, and today many children in distant
lands have heard of Sadako and have folded paper cranes in her
memory.
In Hiroshima Peace Memorial Park there
stands a monument to Sadako. At the base of that monument is
this message, "This is our cry. This is our prayer. For
peace in this world." It is the message of children throughout
the world who honor Sadako's memory.
Sadako Peace Garden in Santa Barbara
is a beautiful, tranquil place. In this garden are some large
rocks, and cranes are carved in relief onto their surfaces.
Each year on August 6th, Hiroshima Day, we celebrate Sadako
Peace Day, a day of remembrance of Sadako and other innocent
victims of war. Each year on Sadako Peace Day we have music,
reflection and poetry at Sadako Peace Garden. In this way, we
seek to keep the memory of Hiroshima alive in our community.
In addition to creating Sadako Peace
Garden and holding an annual commemoration on Hiroshima Day,
we also made arrangements with the Hiroshima and Nagasaki Peace
Memorial Museums to bring an exhibition about the destruction
caused by the atomic weapons to our community. The museums sent
an impressive exhibition that included artifacts, photographs
and videos. The exhibit helped make what happened at Hiroshima
and Nagasaki real to many members of our community.
At the time of the exhibit, several hibakusha,
survivors of the bombings, visited our community and spoke in
public about their experiences. They brought to life the horrors
of nuclear weapons by relating their personal experiences.
There are also many books that collect the stories of atomic
bomb survivors. It is nearly impossible to hear or read of
their experiences without being deeply moved.
Here is the description of one hibakusha,
Miyoko Matsubara, who was a 12-year-old schoolgirl in Hiroshima
at the time of the bombing. Her description begins upon awakening
from being unconscious after the bombing:
"I had no idea how long I had lain
unconscious, but when I regained consciousness the bright sunny
morning had turned into night. Takiko, who had stood next to
me, had simply disappeared from my sight. I could see none of
my friends nor any other students. Perhaps they had been blown
away by the blast. "I rose to my feet surprised. All that
was left of my jacket was the upper part around my chest. And
my baggy working trousers were gone, leaving only the waistband
and a few patches of cloth. The only clothes left on me were
dirty white underwear. "Then I realized that my face, hands,
and legs had been burned, and were swollen with the skin peeled
off and hanging down in shreds. I was bleeding and some areas
had turned yellow. Terror struck me, and I felt that I had to
go home. And the next moment, I frantically started running
away from the scene forgetting all about the heat and pain.
"On my way home, I saw a lot of people. All of them were
almost naked and looked like characters out of horror movies
with their skin and flesh horribly burned and blistered. The
place around the Tsurumi bridge was crowded with many injured
people. They held their arms aloft in front of them. Their hair
stood on end. They were groaning and cursing. With pain in their
eyes and furious looks on their faces, they were crying out
for their mothers to help them. "I was feeling unbearably
hot, so I went down to the river. There were a lot of people
in the water crying and shouting for help. Countless dead bodies
were being carried away by the water - some floating, some sinking.
Some bodies had been badly hurt, and their intestines were exposed.
It was a horrible sight, yet I had to jump in the water to save
myself from heat I felt all over."
After describing her personal struggle
as a survivor of the bombing, Miyoko Matsubara offered this
message to the young people of the world: "Nuclear weapons
do not deter war. Nuclear weapons and human beings cannot co-exist.
We all must learn the value of human life. If you do not agree
with me on this, please come to Hiroshima and see for yourself
the destructive power of these deadly weapons at the Hiroshima
Peace Memorial Museum."
A Simple Proposal
I would like to offer a simple proposal
related to remembering Hiroshima and Nagasaki, which is also
a way to confront the deadening myths in our culture that surround
the bombing of these cities. I suggest that every community
throughout the globe commemorate the period August 6th through
August 9th as Hiroshima and Nagasaki Days. The commemoration
can be short or long, simple or elaborate, but these days should
not be forgotten. By looking back we can also look forward and
remain cognizant of the risks that are before us. These commemorations
also provide a time to focus on what needs to be done to end
the nuclear weapons threat to humanity and all life. By keeping
the memory of the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki alive we
may also be helping to keep humanity alive. This is a critical
part of our responsibility as citizens of Earth living in the
Nuclear Age.
Each year on Hiroshima and Nagasaki Days,
August 6th and 9th respectively, the mayors of these two cities
deliver proclamations on behalf of their cities. These proclamations
are distributed via the internet and by other means. Copies
may be obtained in advance and shared on the occasion of a
community commemoration of these days. It is also a time in
which stories of the hibakusha, the survivors, may be shared
and a time to bring experts to speak on current nuclear threats.
The world needs common symbols to bring
us together. One such common symbol is the photograph of the
Earth from outer space. It is a symbol that makes us understand
immediately that we all share a common planet and a common future.
Hiroshima and Nagasaki are other common symbols. We know that
these names stand for more than cities in Japan; they stand
for the massive destructiveness of nuclear weapons and for the
human strength and spirit needed to overcome this destructiveness.
The world needs to recall and reflect
on the experiences of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as symbols of human
strength and indomitable spirit. We need to be able to remember
truly what happened to these cities if we are going to unite
to end the nuclear weapons threat to humanity and all life.
We need to understand that it is not necessary to be victims
of our own technologies, that we are capable of controlling
even the most dangerous of them.
In their book, Hiroshima in America,
Lifton and Mitchell conclude:
"Confronting Hiroshima can be a
powerful source of renewal. It can enable us to emerge from
nuclear entrapment and rediscover our imaginative capacities
on behalf of human good. We can overcome our moral inversion
and cease to justify weapons or actions of mass killing. We
can condemn and then step back from acts of desecration and
recognize what Camus called a 'philosophy of limits.' In that
way we can also take steps to cease betraying ourselves, cease
harming and deceiving our own people. We can also free our
society from its apocalyptic concealment, and in the process
enlarge our vision. We can break out of our long-standing numbing
in the vitalizing endeavor of learning, or relearning, to feel.
And we can divest ourselves of a debilitating sense of futurelessness
and once more feel bonded to past and future generations."
The future is in our hands. We must not
be content to drift along on the path of nuclear terror. Our
responsibility as citizens of Earth and of all nations is to
grasp the enormity of our challenge in the Nuclear Age and to
rise to that challenge on behalf of ourselves, our children
and all future generations. Our task must be to reclaim our
humanity and assure our common future by ridding the world of
these inhumane instruments of indiscriminate death and destruction.
The path to assuring humanity's future runs through Hiroshima
and Nagasaki's past.
Sources
_____, "Records of the Nagasaki
Atomic Bombing," Nagasaki: City of Nagasaki, 1998.
_____, "The Outline of Atomic Bomb
Damage in Hiroshima," Hiroshima: Hiroshima Peace Memorial
Museum, 1994.
_____, The Spirit of Hiroshima, An Introduction
to the Atomic Bomb Tragedy, Hiroshima: Hiroshima Peace Memorial
Museum, 1999.
Cantelon, Philip L., Richard G. Hewlett
and Robert C. Williams (eds.), The American Atom, A Documentary
History of Nuclear Policies from the Discovery of Fission to
the Present (Second Edition), Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania
Press, 1991.
Hogan, Michael J. (ed.), Hiroshima in
History and Memory, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1996.
Lifton, Robert J. and Greg Mitchell,
Hiroshima in America, New York: Avon Books, 1996.
Matsubara, Miyoko, "The
Spirit of Hiroshima," Santa Barbara, CA: Nuclear Age
Peace Foundation, 1994.
Udall, Stewart L., The Myths of August,
A Personal Exploration of Our Tragic Cold War Affair with the
Atom, New York: Pantheon Books, 1994.
Walker, J. Samuel, Prompt and Utter Destruction,
Truman and the Use of Atomic Bombs Against Japan, Chapel Hill:
The University of North Carolina Press, 1997.
David Krieger
is president of the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation. He is the editor
of Hope in a Dark Time (Capra Press, 2003), and author of Choose
Hope, Your Role in Waging Peace in the Nuclear Age (Middleway
Press, 2002).
He can be contacted at: dkrieger@napf.org.
This article is being published as Blackaby
Paper #4 by Abolition 2000-UK.
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