Reflections on Visiting the Hiroshima Peace Memorial

When we were in Osaka, we took a day trip to Hiroshima, Japan. We knew this would be a hard day, and it was. As part of the course I am working on for my Master’s in Conflict Management, I read a book called “Hiroshima: Bridge to Forgiveness” by Takashi Tanemori, who is a survivor of the Hiroshima bombing on August 6th, 1945. In the book, Tanemori explains in great detail his experiences the day of the bombing, and the horror that ensued. Josh and I also watched a graphic HBO documentary called, “White Light, Black Rain” that really shows what happened when the bombs dropped. In the research and readings that I did prior to departing for Japan, it was made clear that the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were often overlooked so that Japan could save face. In the book, Tanemori discusses in great length, how as an orphaned child, he was ignored by both the government and his extended family when he was in dire need. Since he was a survivor, he therefore brought shame, because acknowledging him would be acknowledging the bomb and the problems associated with it.

In Asia, the concept of “saving face” is implemented into daily life to solve or cover up both small and big problems. The definition of saving face, as defined by wikipedia is “to avoid being disgraced or humiliated.” In Asia, I have paid close attention to the concept of saving face and how it applies to daily life. People save face in the smallest of circumstances, from there being buttons in toilet stalls which create loud sounds of flowing water to cover up any unwanted bathroom noises, to bigger things, like Japanese newspapers not releasing stories or covering them because they make Japan look bad. The latest example of this was the articles released about Korean women being kidnapped as comfort women for Japanese soldiers in WW2. Just last week, I read a story about Japanese orphans and how there are some 40,000 in sub-par government care because the people of Japan aren’t comfortable with the idea of foster children, and won’t step up and help or adopt them because it would acknowledge the larger problem of imperfect families and abuse.

All of these ideas and historical time lines have been swirling around in my head since we went to the Peace Memorial in Hiroshima, last week. Hiroshima still has a heaviness to it, and is not a pretty city. It was rebuilt in a frenzy after WW2, and buildings look as though they were thrown up in a flash and little thought was given to aesthetic beauty. We arrived in Hiroshima on a dreary, hot day. Hiroshima has several rivers running through it, and at the center of the city, where the bomb was dropped, these are where people ran crying “mizu, mizu” or “water, water”- desperate for relief from the scorching heat of the bomb. The bomb killed almost 200,000 people instantly, and another 140,000 people died in the 6 months after because of radiation poisoning and lack of care. Resources were already so scarce in Hiroshima because of the ongoing war, and therefore there was also a lack of medical care. So many people died that might have lived when the bomb dropped, because prior to the bombing, there were only 150 doctors for a population of over 500,000. When the bomb dropped, 65 doctors were immediately killed and most were wounded. Of the 1,780 nurses, 1,654 died in the bombing. All the medicines were lost and supplies were burnt. It was a living hell.

The epicenter of where the bomb was dropped is where the Peace Memorial now stands. It’s a huge sprawling park, with benches, fountains, and sidewalks to stroll and think. Life has gone on here, and Luna ran about-happy to have some space to play- but I was so lost in my thoughts and what had happened here. How could an atomic bomb ever have been dropped? Knowing the horror that occurred in the place we were in was both hopeless and hopeful, all at the same time. We visited the Peace Bell, which is a large bell that you ring in order to speak for peace in the world and make a commitment to sustain peace within your life. I rang it. We visited a Memorial for the Children who had been killed in the bomb, many of whom were in school at the time of the bombing. Although some sort of military strike was expected to hit Hiroshima, nothing of this magnitude ever crossed their minds.

Mom and Dad visited the museum first, while we stayed with Luna, and then we went into the museum. Upon entering the museum, there is total silence. People mill about, looking at remnants of that fateful day, when so many people died. There are pieces of scorched clothing, hair, houses, stopwatches that were frozen in time. You take a journey through the day of the bombing and after, to see the affects of the radiation on survivors- black fingernails, blue dots on rotting skin, it was awful. I cried. I was so incredibly grateful that Mom and Dad watched Luna, because I would never bring a 5 year old into a place like this.

Here are my reflections immediately exiting the exhibit. I had to write and release my feelings because I was so overwhelmed, and although I probably looked like a crazy American texting on my phone, I was writing so that I might be able to process everything I was feeling:

“We’re in Hiroshima right now, and having just walked through the museum, I’m feeling sick. I thought I was going to pass out in the middle of the museum, when we were walking past the remains of charred children, black fingernails and locks of hair that had fallen out because of radiation poisoning. It is very difficult to believe that something like this had to occur as a way to stop a war. Logically, I understand- but my heart can’t comprehend the logic in that. Walking through the museum, tears streaming down my face, I was embarrassed to be an American. Yet, in the museum there was never any blame/ never any fingers pointed. It just happened. They look forward, while I feel guilty in a way, that a bomb was named and celebrated some places, people kissed in the streets, while in others- people were literally scorched, scores of children died and people’s skin hung from their bones because of intense heat and radiation. And this is why we are here- to ask these questions and see the value in winning a war, stopping a war, but at this cost? Was there another way? Japan lost so much during this time- cities were lost and people- everything was destroyed- yet they carried on. When all hope was lost, they carried on. I don’t know how they coped, but they did. Over half of this city died within six months- and now I’m walking in the park were the blast hit. It’s surreal and sad and full of hope all at the same time. I don’t know how to deal with this, how to cope with these feelings.”

When we got home that night, once Luna was in bed- Josh and I talked about our experiences during the day and what we’d felt. The museum stated that the reasons the US dropped the bomb were twofold: A) to have some excuse for spending so much money creating the bomb B) to keep Russia out of Japan. We both noticed that within the museum, there was not ever a single mention of Japan’s involvement in the war, or that the bomb was dropped to stop the war, or the fact that Japan surrendered after the bombing. In all fairness, 1/2 of the museum was closed for renovations, and we wondered if those pieces were in the closed portion of the museum- we even got the map out and looked to see- but we couldn’t tell. We felt quite the continuum of emotions afterwards, the guilt of being from the country that dropped the bomb, to questioning why a museum felt the need to save face and not acknowledge the rest of the timeline, like initial involvement and surrender in the war.

As a westerner, saving face is not typically high on my agenda. I believe in honesty and transparency. I haven’t been raised to shy away from facing the facts and brush things under the rug. I like to solve problems, but I think that you must first acknowledge them. And here is where most divides begin- from differing viewpoints, worldviews and belief systems that are very far apart. In conflict management and negotiation, sometimes in order to make a point- you have to take a very big step to let the other party know where you stand. I am grateful that WW2 ended, that it ended when it did and not later with even more lives lost. Yet amidst this conflict, I have to question if there was another way.