Japan has annual festival, looks back on atomic bomb
Robert Zaller
Issue date: 8/14/09 Section: Ed-Op
Each August, the Japanese commemorate the atomic bombings that destroyed the cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki-and brought World War II to a horrific close. These ceremonies are not about denouncing the United States for making the first (and so far only) use of the ultimate weapons of mass destruction, but are about promoting peace and, specifically, seeking to ensure that such weapons are never used again. They also mark a moment of ineradicable trauma for Japan, and with it, the beginning of a new era - an era in which humans, for the first time, found themselves in possession of the means to achieve planetary suicide for themselves.
The annual ceremonies in Japan are duly reported in the American press, and they are sufficiently anodyne to cause no offense - who, after all, can object to flowers and wreaths and pious speeches about peace? It is curious, however, that there is no analogous commemoration in the United States. It can certainly be argued that the dropping of the atomic bombs was the most consequential event in American history. Yet no public notice is taken of their anniversary. It is as if the bombs were an event that happened to the Japanese, but was somehow not perpetrated by us. When, a few years ago, an exhibit on the bombs was proposed at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, a storm of protest resulted. It was as if the mere consideration was taboo.
It is not as if Americans are racked by guilt about the bombings. Most of us, if we give them a thought, accept them as justified, in part as a response to Pearl Harbor and the savage treatment of American POWS by the Japanese, and in part as a means of bringing the long Pacific war to a close without further loss of American life. President Truman, who ordered the bombings flatly stated that the decision never cost him an hour's sleep.
The matter is not that simple, as historians have pointed out. The Japanese were frantically signaling their desire to surrender in the weeks before the bombings on the sole condition of retaining their emperor. The United States refused, on the grounds that it had committed itself with its allies to a policy of unconditional surrender. Yet, when the Japanese finally capitulated, the emperor kept his place. Even if the U.S. had wished to maintain a public posture of unconditional surrender, it could have indicated to Japan that the throne-the thousand-year symbol of the Japanese state-would remain intact.
The annual ceremonies in Japan are duly reported in the American press, and they are sufficiently anodyne to cause no offense - who, after all, can object to flowers and wreaths and pious speeches about peace? It is curious, however, that there is no analogous commemoration in the United States. It can certainly be argued that the dropping of the atomic bombs was the most consequential event in American history. Yet no public notice is taken of their anniversary. It is as if the bombs were an event that happened to the Japanese, but was somehow not perpetrated by us. When, a few years ago, an exhibit on the bombs was proposed at the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, a storm of protest resulted. It was as if the mere consideration was taboo.
It is not as if Americans are racked by guilt about the bombings. Most of us, if we give them a thought, accept them as justified, in part as a response to Pearl Harbor and the savage treatment of American POWS by the Japanese, and in part as a means of bringing the long Pacific war to a close without further loss of American life. President Truman, who ordered the bombings flatly stated that the decision never cost him an hour's sleep.
The matter is not that simple, as historians have pointed out. The Japanese were frantically signaling their desire to surrender in the weeks before the bombings on the sole condition of retaining their emperor. The United States refused, on the grounds that it had committed itself with its allies to a policy of unconditional surrender. Yet, when the Japanese finally capitulated, the emperor kept his place. Even if the U.S. had wished to maintain a public posture of unconditional surrender, it could have indicated to Japan that the throne-the thousand-year symbol of the Japanese state-would remain intact.
Viewing Comments 1 - 1 of 1
PT
posted 8/14/09 @ 12:01 PM EST
Once again, Zaller advocated that we trip over ourselves trying to appologize for being Americans. The Japanese were not about to surrender at any second, like he would have you believe. (Continued…)
Post a Comment