Hiroshima. Entering the city by car, it seemed pretty much the same as any other big city in Japan. When Hiroshima-jo (Hiroshima Castle) came into view, we stopped to take a look. Like the handful of other castles we’ve seen on this trip, we didn’t enter it or even get close enough for a decent view. But perched up on its hill, the castle was impressive, and we decided to park there and head into central Hiroshima on foot. It was a nice walk and a pleasant enough city, but again, not terribly different from anywhere else in Japan.



When the dome came into sight, I nearly stopped in my tracks. I’d never seen it before, but there was no mistaking what it was. The ruined building seemed to command you to slow down and take your time looking at it, feeling it. I had to walk around it to view it from every angle, to take in all the sadness and horror it held in its ruined but still graceful form. As sad as it was, it was also beautiful- the late afternoon sunlight poured gently over it, and a nearby weeping willow with newly sprouting bright green leaves added a beautiful and poignant touch. Life does go on.



So does my group, so I hurried to catch up with them as we passed through the Hiroshima Peace Park and on to the Peace Memorial Museum, where we had thirty minutes to take in the exhibits. Not nearly long enough, so I had to carefully chose what to stop for and what to pass as I hurried through the place.

I remember reading about Dave Barry’s visit to Hiroshima in Dave Barry Does Japan. He was there for the 50th anniversary of the a-bomb, and found the museum, ceremonies and monuments to be rather victim-centric and biased. 16 years later, I didn’t get that impression at all. In fact, I was surprised to see that the events leading up to the bomb were honestly and thoroughly presented, including the capture and massacre of Nanking, an event that all too frequently goes unmentioned in Japan. Apparently this introduction is part of new wing of the museum, and before it was added the museum must indeed have presented a rather biased view.

There is also a strong message of peace throughout the museum. Most notable were the copies of the Peace Declarations issued by the mayor of Hiroshima every year on the anniversary of the dropping of the A-bomb on display, as well as the letters of protest issued every time a nuclear bomb is tested. It is moving to see the devotion that the mayors, and their citizens, have to the cause of peace.

At the old wing of the museum were models of the city before and after the bomb, along with photos and artifacts. Despite the fact that I’d seen nearly all of them before in books or online, many of the pictures were quite shocking and hard to look at. But the most moving exhibits were not the gory pictures, but the everyday objects that belonged to the victims. An aluminum lunch box carried by a schoolboy, its container intact but its contents scorched black. A pocket watch stopped at exactly 8:15. Children’s clothes, school bags shoes, and the like. All of whose owners were killed by the bomb.

The museum charges just 50 Yen for admission, I suppose to allow as many people as possible to get the message. And the message is loud and clear: that the people of Hiroshima wish for nuclear weapons to be abandoned forever, and for the world to join them in embracing peace.

We had such little time at the museum that I really didn’t get a chance to see much of it, and it wasn’t until later that I could even begin thinking about what I saw. One of the things that struck me over the next few days was the lack of contemporary photographs and testimony: many of the pictures, drawings, and personal accounts were dated from several years after the bomb dropped. In the years after the bomb, certainly the survivors must have been too busy to take pictures or write about what was happening, or in too much shock, or simply felt it was indecent to record such tragic events. But likely a bigger reason was the suppression and censorship practiced by the GHQ under MacAurthur, which lasted the entire occupation. Images, descriptions, and anything related to the bomb and its effects were strictly censored, and most Japanese (not to mention the entire rest of the world) knew little about the lasting pain and devastation caused by the bomb until years later. I can’t help but wonder how many images and documents were seized and lost forever, and how the world might be a different place now if people knew from the beginning what had really happened.

There was another, more terrible consequence of this censorship: research into the bomb’s effects was also suppressed, which prevented the victims from being treated for their mysterious ailments. The reasons for this are completely lost on me, but the results aren’t– it is likely that in the years between the dropping of the bomb and the end of the occupation thousands of people died or suffered needlessly.

No matter what one thinks about the dropping of the bomb (I happen to consider it a crime against humanity), I can’t imagine anyone who would disagree that this suppression was a tragic mistake.

Hiroshima was certainly one of the most moving places on this trip. But because of the short time we had there I don’t feel that I got as much out of the visit as I could have. This is high on my list of places to return to.