History, especially post-conflict history is, as we are repeatedly reminded, usually written by the victors. That such narratives are generally accepted and perpetuated may be attributed to the understandable human tendency to want the winners to be ‘the good guys’. The natural order is, after all, premised on the triumph of good over evil.
The truth, though, as we are also regularly reminded, is the first casualty of war and war is therefore fertile ground for almost endless research and, to a large extent, revisionism. Indeed, the more we learn of the past, the more we are reminded that there are few absolutes when it comes to the study of history and the quest for the truth. There will always be competing narratives.
The 70th anniversary of the dropping of the atomic bomb by the United States of America on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, solemnly commemorated yesterday, and the release of a second atomic bomb on Nagasaki, on August 9, 1945, provide a sobering illustration of the different perspectives that can arise from revisiting a particular event or period in history.
The justification then, still adhered to by many, for killing an estimated 200,000 people, mainly civilians including thousands of children, almost instantaneously, with hundreds of thousands more dying from radiation sickness and related injuries in subsequent decades, with the survivors enduring unspeakable suffering, was that the two bombings precipitated Japan’s unconditional surrender on August 15, 1945, thereby avoiding a bloody invasion of Japan and saving millions of Japanese and Allied lives. The counter-argument, however, is that Japan was already on its knees, militarily and economically, and morale at home was at a very low ebb. The Americans controlled the air over Japan and the seas around the country, and all supply lines were cut. The Japanese people were starving and felt increasingly besieged, subject to conventional bombing raids and a destructive firebombing campaign targeting their cities. The use of the facetiously named but horrifyingly destructive atomic bombs, Little Boy and Fat Man, was therefore unnecessary in the opinion of many.
According to the American political economist and historian, Gar Alperovitz, in his seminal 1965 work, Atomic Diplomacy: Hiroshima and Potsdam, “the then available evidence available pointed to three major conclusions: first, that the first use of these terrible weapons was unnecessary; second, that this was understood by decision makers at the time; and third that there was very substantial though not absolutely definitive evidence that by the late summer of 1945 the decision was primarily influenced by diplomatic considerations related to the Soviet Union.” As more evidence came to light in subsequent years, his thesis that the USA used nuclear weapons in order to intimidate the Soviet Union in the early stages of the Cold War would gather more credence.
Thus, the decision to use the atomic bomb was as much a political as a military one, perhaps more so the former, when account is taken of the critical objective of completely crushing the militaristic spirit in Japan, which had fuelled a brutal and almost fanatical war, as well as the geopolitical considerations pertaining to the post-war world. In the former respect, the strategy was an overwhelming success, as even though it was a matter of when and not if the Japanese would surrender, the aim was to bring about the absolute humiliation of Japan and extinguish the culture of militarism.
Today, 70 years later, we are witness to the peaceful, conciliatory and internationally responsible Japan, which emerged from the Second World War and the radiated rubble of the atomic bombs. And, as Japanese Prime Minister Shinzo Abe said yesterday, “Hiroshima has been revived and has become a city of culture and prosperity.” But does the end justify the means?
As with the firebombing by the Allies of the German city of Dresden in February 1945, were these examples of the hitherto unprecedented scale of death and destruction wrought upon civilian targets not atrocities and war crimes or, to use a modern term, crimes against humanity? And why was the waging of ‘total war’, which treats civilians as legitimate targets, acceptable on the Allied side but not on the part of the defeated Axis forces?
These are questions that can be debated ad nauseam with no definitive answers ever being found. The 70th anniversary of Hiroshima and Nagasaki serves to remind us, though, of the absolute horror of war and the sometimes murky area of morality that talk of ‘a greater good’ inhabits.
