In London On Hiroshima Day

25 Aug, 2026

“Peace is not something that we passively wait for. Peace is something that we must seek out and cultivate.” ¹

~ Michiko Yagi

Just before lunch on the 6th of August, 2026, I left my office and hurried to Liverpool Street station. From there, I made the short journey on the Underground to Euston Square, exited onto Gower Place, passed by Friends House, and arrived at Tavistock Square Gardens.

The gardens have acquired a reputation as a place of peace and reflection. The centerpiece is a statue of Mahatma Gandhi sitting crossed legged, and scattered elsewhere there is a memorial to the victims of the bus bombing that occurred opposite the square on the 7th of July, 2005; a cherry tree planted in 1967 in memory of the victims of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima (it was replanted in 2025, on the 80th anniversary of the event); and a commemorative stone dedicated to conscientious objectors.

I entered via the north gate, cherry tree and conscientious objector’s stone immediately to my right. By the cherry tree, a small crowd had formed, perhaps no more than a couple of hundred people. They stood in a polite semicircle around a speaker, behind whom a few banners of the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND) were arrayed. An annual service of remembrance for the victims of the atomic bombing of Hiroshima was underway.²

The speaker, the deputy mayor of Camden, Sylvia McNamara, was just finishing her opening address as I attached myself to the rear of the congregation. Upon concluding her speech, McNamara laid a wreath of pastel-coloured flowers at the foot of the cherry tree, then made way for the Reverend Gyoro Nagase, a Buddhist monk who has lived at the London Peace Pagoda in Battersea Park for over forty years, to lead a period of reflection.

Nagase rang a pair of tingsha a few times - a bright, clarifying sound - and then reached down for his drum. To the gradual shortening and lengthening of his beat, in a voice that belied his frail appearance, rising to meet and overcome the whoosh of traffic that infiltrated the gardens, Nagase chanted, “Namu Myōhō Renge Kyō”...

It had been two days since the bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. Father Kleinsorge lay in his bed, exhausted from his exertions spent trying to help people in the aftermath. When someone turned on a lightbulb above the bed, he startled:

“The sudden flood of light, pouring in on Father Kleinsorge’s half sleep, brought him leaping out of bed, braced for a new concussion. When he realised what had happened, he laughed confusedly and went back to bed.” ³

It would be weeks before the public knew the truth about the weapon that was used against them. Until then, speculation and rumour were all they had. At that moment, though, two days after experiencing the “noiseless flash” of the bomb, Father Kleinsorge knew enough: he knew how the weapon could flatten a city in a moment, how it incinerated clothes and burnt flesh red, how it melted eyeballs, and how, without warning, it killed perfectly healthy looking people. He knew resignation also, for there were too many sick and wounded to be tended to, and the weak were left to die slow and painful deaths alone among the ruins of their homes. In the coming months, he would know pain as his body struggled to fight off the effects of radiation sickness. He was but one amongst tens of thousands who knew this misery.⁴

...the drum beat ceased. Nagase's voice faded.

The congregation duly reformed its semicircle and speeches from Jess Barnard, Maryam Eslamdoust, and Martin Abrams followed. These were all defiant anti-war, anti-nuclear weapon proclamations, explicating how recent increases in defence spending, including billions on the nuclear deterrent, come at the expense of funding local communities and vital public services; how increasingly belligerent rhetoric between nations is threatening the safety of us all; and how they believe that peace is not something you can just sit on and wait to arrive.

Next, two poems and a couple of songs were performed. These were pure in heart but felt somewhat incoherent, one song veering completely off topic, and so they failed to leave much of an impression on me. Nevertheless, the gathering listened in sympathy, thanking each performer in turn.

Shigeo Kobayashi, a Japanese peace activist then took the microphone. Earlier in the day, the mayor of Hiroshima, Kazumi Matsui, delivered the annual Hiroshima Peace Declaration, an excerpt of which Kobayashi read out. Matsui directed criticism at world leaders who were failing to make progress on nuclear disarmament. “How much longer do you intend to disappoint us?”, he challenged. He also shared his concern that “fading memories of war could lead to the use of nuclear weapons”, highlighting that the number of hibakusha, the survivors of the atomic bombings, has dropped below 100,000, and that their average age is now 86.⁵

A few announcements for related events were finally circulated, and a closing thanks was given. There would also be a performance by the Raised Voices choir, but as they limbered up, I took my leave, feeling I had given as much time as I could spare.

On the tube back to the office, a dull anger surfaced in me. Here we are, commemorating 81 years since the atomic bombings, and yet the spectre of nuclear weapons still hounds us. We put our faith in nuclear deterrents, gamble our existence on the cynical policy of mutually assured destruction, all while our leaders recklessly test its limits with impulsive displays of brinkmanship. I was also slightly disquieted by the fact that most of those in attendance at the remembrance service were of an older demographic, albeit this could be explained (at least in part) by the fact that it was held on a weekday at what was no doubt an awkward time for most people (myself included!). I therefore wondered how many other people in the UK were commemorating this anniversary, whether in public ceremonies or acts of private reflection. The CND and other peace groups were hosting local events, of course, but I imagine for most people in the country the day passed like any other. I was also curious about how our political representatives were reflecting on this day, if indeed they realised what day it was.

Trawling through the internet and social media later on, I found no mention of the bombings by any government official or department. The only politicians making any sort of statement were the likes of Jeremy Corbyn, who are often denigrated for their unwavering commitment to peace. Even last year, on the arbitrary but momentous 80th anniversary of the bombings, the British government had nothing to say about them or the accelerating risk of nuclear catastrophe. The only mention of the bombings came as part of its VJ Day commemorations, in statements where they were treated as though a footnote, an incidental event that preceded the announcement of the Japanese surrender on the 15th of August. It was, however, conceded that the bombings “introduced the ever-present threat of nuclear war”, but that struck me as a ridiculous statement, and there was no reflection beyond that.⁶

I must confess, naively perhaps, that the lack of commemoration of the bombings surprised me, so I dug into it a bit more.

It took 65 years before a high-level British government representative officially attended the Hiroshima Peace Memorial Ceremony, when David Fitton, Charge D’Affaires of the Japanese Mission, attended in 2010.⁷ Fitton said that, “now was an appropriate time to attend the ceremony, with the international mood growing for nuclear disarmament and non-proliferation”.⁸ That was back when Barack Obama was making grand overtures about nuclear disarmament. Fitton was one of many Western dignitaries representing their nations for the first time, most notable of all, the US ambassador to Japan, John Roos.⁹

Since then, it seems that it has been customary for the British ambassador to attend the annual memorial ceremonies in Hiroshima and Nagasaki, however, I can find no specific mentions of their attendance. The only statement I can find from the British Embassy in Japan on the memorial ceremonies is from 2024, when the British Ambassador, alongside Western counterparts, boycotted the Nagasaki ceremony. This was because the Mayor of Nagasaki did not invite the Israeli ambassador on what he claimed were security grounds.¹⁰

When it comes to government officials, Philip Hammond, in his capacity as Foreign Secretary, became the first British minister to visit the Hiroshima Peace Memorial during the G7 summit in April 2016.¹¹ Then, Rishi Sunak, attending the G7 Summit in May 2023, became the first Prime Minister to visit Hiroshima.¹² Alongside the other leaders of the G7, he laid a wreath at the foot of the Hiroshima memorial. During the summit, the UK and Japanese governments agreed to a “global strategic partnership", The Hiroshima Accord.¹³ You might expect this to have something to say about nuclear disarmament, but it contained nothing substantive on the matter, only a hollow reaffirmation of the two governments’ commitment to the NPT and the demand that North Korea dismantle all of its nuclear weapons. When Rishi Sunak returned to the UK, he delivered a speech to parliament, telling MPs:

“On behalf of this House and the British people, I recorded our great sorrow at the destruction and human suffering that occurred there and our fervent resolve that it should never again be necessary to use nuclear weapons.” ¹⁴

The reference to the victims of the bombings uses the same obfuscating passive voice that many news outlets use when reporting on conflicts in the Middle East, such as the ongoing genocide in Gaza.¹⁵ Sunak refers to the destruction and suffering that “occurred there”, as though a natural disaster may have been the cause of it rather than a weapon of mass destruction.¹⁶ He also implies that the use of nuclear weapons was necessary and, as with most rhetoric on nuclear disarmament emanating from the British government, the allusion to its “fervent resolve” on the matter rings profoundly hollow. This especially so in light of the rest of the speech, which, bellicose in tenor, includes boasts about the government’s unwavering commitment to supplying arms to Ukraine, its increased investment in the defence industry, and its firm and hostile stance on China.

It strikes me that it took so long for the United Kingdom, and indeed the United States, to send a representative to one of the memorial ceremonies in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. And, beyond Rishi Sunak’s dissonant address to parliament in 2023 and the passing mention in VJ Day statements, I can find no recent, specific statement given by the British government regarding the atomic bombings.

Why does this bother me? After all, what is a government statement worth?

Before I attempt an answer, let me explore some topics that may help me elaborate. I will label these acknowledgement, action, and alternative:

1. Acknowledgement: The United Kingdom is responsible, alongside the United States, for the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki that killed over 200,000 people by the end of 1945, and led to the suffering of tens of thousands more
2. Action: The United Kingdom remains a nuclear power and is doing scarce little in the pursuit of nuclear disarmament
3. Alternative: Many hibakusha have campaigned tirelessly for peace and a world free from nuclear weapons and war

British Involvement in the Atomic Bombings

After the discovery of nuclear fission in the 1930s, the potential of harnessing its power in a weapon was quickly recognised. However, early estimates predicted that tonnes of material were required for a bomb, limiting the means by which to deploy the weapon in combat and, thus, its practicality. Two expatriate scientists working in Britain, Otto Frisch and Rudolf Peierls, provided a key breakthrough in 1940. They determined that only a few kilograms of uranium was necessary to achieve the critical mass required for a nuclear detonation, meaning a bomb could be made light enough to be delivered by air. Following this, in August 1941, the British government inaugurated the Tube Alloys project, which was the first program anywhere in the world devoted to the development of nuclear weapons.¹⁷

Anxiety about the German nuclear program spurred the British on, but as the Tube Alloys project developed, it became clear that Britain alone did not have the manpower, resources, or strategic security to produce an atomic weapon. Earlier attempts had been made to secure cooperation with the United States, and indeed, information had been shared with the Americans that encouraged them to pursue their own weapons program, but with growing concerns about German development, something more had to be done. Therefore, in July 1943, the Quebec Agreement was signed by the United States, the United Kingdom, and Canada, and Tube Alloys merged with the Manhattan Project.¹⁸ As it so happened, the Allies needn’t have worried about the German program - the Germans had concluded that a bomb could not be developed within a timeframe that would allow it to influence the course of the war, so they didn’t divert resources towards its development.¹⁹

The Quebec Agreement outlined a few general points about the joint development of nuclear weapons, and crucially contained a stipulation that neither the United Kingdom nor the United States “will [...] use [an atomic weapon] against third parties without each other's consent”.¹⁸

The Manhattan Project progressed at pace, and in July 1945, final preparations were being made for the Trinity test. By this point, with input from the head of the British delegation, William Penney, a list of targets for the bombs had already been selected. Then, on the 4th of July, the British consented to the use of an atomic bomb against Japan under the terms of the Quebec Agreement.

“Field Marshal Wilson stated that the British Government concurred in the use of the T. A. weapon against Japan.” ²⁰

Following the success of the Trinity test on the 16th of July, an ultimatum was issued to Japan on the 26th of July. Harry Truman, Winston Churchill, and Chiang Kai-shek jointly issued the Potsdam Declaration. It closed with a warning:

“We call upon the government of Japan to proclaim now the unconditional surrender of all Japanese armed forces, and to provide proper and adequate assurances of their good faith in such action. The alternative for Japan is prompt and utter destruction.” ²¹

The Japanese did not respond; the bombs were dropped.²²

The British government was quick to inform the public of its role in the bombings. On the day Hiroshima was bombed, it released a statement, prepared in advance by Winston Churchill, outlining in brief the development of the atomic bomb and British involvement in it. Churchill celebrated the cooperation between Britain and the United States, and labelled the endeavour “one of the greatest triumphs of American - or indeed human - genius of which there is record”. He did, however, temper the statement with some words of caution:

“This revelation of the secrets of nature, long mercifully withheld from man, should arouse the most solemn reflections in the mind and conscience of every human being capable of comprehension. We must indeed pray that these awful agencies will be made to conduce to peace among the nations and that, instead of wreaking measureless havoc upon the entire globe, they may become a perennial foundation of world prosperity.” ²³

Winston Churchill clarified some points when he spoke in Parliament on the 16th of August, 1945, confirming, for one, that the decision to bomb Hiroshima and Nagasaki was a joint one:

“The decision to use the atomic bomb was taken by President Truman and myself at Potsdam, and we approved the military plans to unchain the dread, pent-up forces.” ²⁴

Meanwhile, the Smyth Report was released to the American public on the 12th of August. It described the history of the development of the bomb, balancing the need for secrecy with the need to keep the citizens of a democratic nation informed. While it mentions the British contribution, it doesn’t ascribe any particular importance to it. This set the general trend in American post-war appraisals of the program.²⁵

This isn’t necessarily an unfair reflection of the history. The American investment, both in resources and personnel, dwarfed what the British could contribute. The Americans spent more than $2 billion on the project, and had over 200,000 people working on it by the end of the war.²⁵ Once the ball was rolling, some Americans felt they didn’t need the British. Among others, Leslie Groves, the director of the Manhattan Project, lobbied for the British to be excluded. The question when it comes to contribution, though, isn’t whether the Americans could have built a bomb without British involvement - they could have - but by when that bomb would have been ready to use.

Margaret Gowing wrote in her history of the British nuclear weapons program, that the merging of the British and American programs in 1943 was a critical factor in the bombs being ready by August 1945. She argued that “events that change a time scale by only a few months can nevertheless change history”.²⁶ Interestingly, given his lobbying during the war, Leslie Groves, wrote in his account of the Manhattan Project that "without active and continuing British interest, there probably would have been no atomic bomb to drop on Hiroshima."²⁷

Many scholars have written about this, and in the interest of brevity, we can say the generally accepted appraisal of the project is this: if the British contribution was important, it was so far that it meant a bomb was ready by August 1945.

A Responsible Nuclear Weapon State?

In the book Exterminate All the Brutes, Sven Lindqvist seeks to uncover the roots of racism and genocide in the Western world. During his narrative, he highlights the technical superiority the British held at the Battle of Omdurman in 1898. The advanced rifles and artillery the British Army possessed resulted in a decisive victory and the massacre of over 10,000 Mahdists who stood against them with relatively primitive weaponry. This heralded a period of colonialism in which Lindqvist writes, “technical superiority [...] provides a natural right to annihilate the enemy when he is defenceless.”²⁸

The technical superiority of the colonial powers at the turn of the 20th century is a meagre thing in comparison to that enjoyed by the nuclear powers in the present day. "Defenceless" today could mean any state that does not possess a nuclear arsenal, and the consequences are the same, shrouded too in ideas of racial and cultural supremacy. The possession of these weapons facilitates the intimidation and coercion of non-nuclear states, explicitly or otherwise. Nuclear Weapon States can wage war with relative impunity, and have done so for decades, and it has long been their policy to preserve their status while preventing others from joining their ranks. 21st-century wars in both Iraq and Iran have been justified on the grounds of preventing nuclear proliferation.

In recent years, we have seen Russian officials openly threaten the use of nuclear weapons²⁹, and earlier this year, Donald Trump issued a veiled threat to Iran, stating that “a whole civilisation will die tonight”.³⁰

While the United Kingdom is not so brazen in its language, statements and policy decisions made by the British government signal to non-nuclear states, especially those openly hostile to the West, that the possession of these weapons is vital for national security.

In its defence, the United Kingdom likes to tout its long-term commitment to the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT). Boris Johnson, then Foreign Secretary, gave a speech at Chatham House in 2017 in which he highlighted the importance of the treaty:

“In its restraint and its maturity it shows an unexpected wisdom on the part of humanity, and almost evolutionary instinct for the survival of the species.

It is the job of our generation now to preserve that agreement, and British diplomacy will be at the forefront of the endeavour.”³¹

In the same year, the United Kingdom participated in a boycott, alongside the other Nuclear Weapon States, of the negotiations of the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW). This was a new treaty that intended to prohibit nuclear weapons in the same way chemical weapons, biological weapons, anti-personnel landmines and cluster munitions have been. Despite the boycott, the treaty was adopted by 122 nations. It remains government policy not to engage with the TPNW, not even as an observer state, arguing the NPT is the only credible pathway towards disarmament.³²

There is a particular irony to this stance given the blatant flouting of the NPT by the British government in the years that followed.

In 2021, the government, then under Boris Johnson's premiership, approved an increase on the nuclear warhead stockpile cap from 180 to 260 and halted operational transparency on the deployment of warheads.³³ These actions were, according to independent legal advice sought by the CND, in contravention of the UK’s obligations under Article 6 of the NPT.³⁴

Then in 2025, the United Kingdom became the third largest spender on nuclear weapons, surpassing Russia and placing only just behind China.³⁵ Unsurprisingly, the United States led the way, spending $69.2 billion. That may appear to make the UK’s $12.6 billion figure look paltry, but, of course, that is not the case. The UK figure represents 14% of the total defence budget, a proportion that could rise to 20 or 25% in the coming years.³⁶

The figure includes an £8.4 billion commitment towards delivering the new class of Dreadnought submarines that will replace the Vanguard class that is currently responsible for carrying the Trident nuclear deterrent.³⁷

Future investments in the nuclear deterrent formed a key part of the 2021³⁸ and 2025³⁹ defence reviews, something which the government claims will continue to keep the UK safe for “decades to come”. Keir Starmer emphasised the United Kingdom’s commitment to its nuclear deterrent was “unshakeable” and “generational”.⁴⁰

The acquisition of F-35A fighter jets, capable of carrying nuclear warheads,⁴¹ and the rumoured return of US nuclear weapons on British soil⁴² further discredit the British government.

Meanwhile, the British government continues to ignore its historical obligations to the victims of its nuclear test program in the 1950s and 1960s. This includes Pacific islanders⁴³, Aboriginal Australians⁴⁴, and veterans of the British armed forces⁴⁵. While the latter have recently elicited some sort of recognition and a commitment to compensation from the government, non-British nationals, who have little recourse to raise their grievances, face complete silence from British authorities. Most of these people, now in the latter stages of their lives, will probably not live to see the British government compensate them, or, at the very least, acknowledge their suffering.

None of this suggests, as the government insists, that the United Kingdom is a responsible nuclear power that is committed to nuclear disarmament or the principles of rules-based international law. On the contrary, it shows that nuclear weapons provide a shield from true accountability, inhibit historical justice from being delivered, and provide a means to project power and uphold a structure of international relations based on might rather than peacebuilding and diplomacy.

Indeed, although it is not a signatory, the UK was highlighted as the worst violator of the TPNW in the annual Nuclear Weapons Ban Monitor report, released in April 2026 by Norwegian People’s Aid.⁴⁶

The TPNW exists in part because of the failure of the NPT to make real progress on disarmament. Non-Nuclear Weapon States are disillusioned by the stagnation of the NPT, the continued failure to make any meaningful progress towards its stated aims, and that Nuclear Weapon States like the United Kingdom can make spurious and self-defeating arguments to justify nuclear deterrence on the grounds that it is a vital step towards the elimination of nuclear weapons. How, indeed, can the United Kingdom claim to be working towards the elimination of nuclear weapons whilst renewing its nuclear deterrent for “decades to come”? There is no sense of urgency in its supposed disarmament policy. No matter how many times British officials reaffirm their commitment to the treaty, its actions are what matter, and it is glaring how short the United Kingdom is falling in its obligations. A statement from UNA-UK summarises it succinctly:

“If the NPT is to remain relevant, it must be revitalised through meaningful action – not empty reaffirmations – and the UK must decide whether to be part of the problem or the solution.” ⁴⁷

Ask yourself: is there any such thing as a responsible Nuclear Weapon State?

Testimonies of the Hibakusha

The testimonies of the hibakusha are well documented. From John Hersey's Hiroshima, published in 1946, to the Hibakusha Stories project supported by the International Campaign to Abolish Nuclear Weapons (ICAN), there is a wealth of survivor testimony in writing and on tape. I therefore won't delve too deeply into it, but will try to summarise in brief the history of the hibakusha.

In the aftermath of the bombings, the hibakusha faced not only the difficulty of coping with their physical and mental trauma, but also prejudice from within Japanese society. Marriages to hibakusha would be refused by parents who were worried about the hereditary effects of radiation, and many hibakusha struggled to retain employment due to their debilitating injuries - that's if employers even gave them work in the first place.

In the mid-1950s, the public mood shifted as a consequence of the Castle Bravo nuclear test that caused acute radiation sickness to the crew of the fishing vessel Daigo Fukuryū Maru. Several anti-nuclear weapons organisations were founded around this time, some of which still exist today. Alongside their advocacy for world peace and a nuclear weapons free world, they campaigned for greater recognition of the daily struggles of the hibakusha. This resulted in laws being passed, such as one that guaranteed a monthly allowance for hibakusha to help cover the financial costs incurred by their conditions.

By the 1960s, the hibakusha were involved in the international anti-nuclear movement, and their campaigning extended its reach worldwide. In 1964, the World Peace Study Mission Tour saw a group of forty hibakusha tour the United States to advocate for world peace and deliver the testimonies of their suffering.⁴⁸ In the decades that followed, hibakusha continued to travel around the world to disseminate their message and speak the truth about nuclear weapons. They continue to do so today.

The hibakusha have come to represent something much larger than their victimhood alone. Alex Wellerstein writes of the hibakusha, that their “existence is some kind of statement about power, and so an object for others to use in making their own kinds of political statements. To gaze upon the body of a hibakusha is a political act — but so, also, is looking away.”⁴⁹

Wellerstein also points out the risk of tokenising the hibakusha. They live directly with the consequences of the bombings, and their experiences cannot be reduced to mere political capital. That said, many hibakusha have, as a result of their experiences, felt compelled to advocate for nuclear disarmament and peace. This has not been easy for them. As Kathleen Sullivan writes, the hibakusha “risk their personal comfort to relay these excruciating memories in order for people to try and understand the unspeakable consequences of nuclear weapons.”⁵⁰ And they cannot go on forever.

Mayor Kazumi Matsui emphasised during his Peace Declaration that the hibakusha are dwindling in number, and soon their living testimony will be lost to us. The question arises of how this can be carried forward to future generations. Schemes such as the A-bomb Legacy Successor Programme seek to address this issue by passing on that testimony to “successors”, while acknowledging that it must necessarily change as a result of that. However, even a well-intentioned program like this suffers from the simple fact that direct survivor testimony has a more visceral impact than successor lectures.⁵¹

In 2024, the Japan Confederation of A- and H-Bomb Sufferers Organizations, or Nihon Hidankyō for short, was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for its decades-long advocacy for the abolition of nuclear weapons. This recognition was considered important because it highlights how inextricable the testimony of the hibakusha is from the disarmament movement. To lose that will be a real blow. Terami Tanaka, co-chair of Nihon Hidankyō, said during his Nobel lecture that the international community should “create opportunities in your own countries to listen to the testimonies of A-bomb survivors, and to feel, with deep sensitivity, the true inhumanity of nuclear weapons.”⁵² The preservation of the testimonies is not necessarily the main challenge - it exists and is well documented. The greatest difficulty is in how you engage the public with it: how do you create the opportunities to listen, and how do you make people and their governments understand and care about its relevance?

Why does it matter?

We bear responsibility for the actions our governments take on our behalf.

You do not have to be the airman who dropped the bomb; the diplomat who consented to its use; the worker who aided in its development; or the scientist who clarified the theory.

In 1945, the United Kingdom did not drop the bomb. It did though, spurred by fear, contribute to the creation of the bomb and its readiness for use in August 1945. It consented to its deployment and took a share of the credit in the immediate aftermath. After the war, it developed its own bombs that, to this day, it claims are a crucial part of its defence and security. It has contributed, and continues to contribute, to human suffering, fear, and insecurity.

The United Kingdom claims it is a responsible nuclear power. But is it responsible to have dozens of nuclear warheads, each with a destructive power that dwarfs the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, primed and ready to fire at a moment’s notice? And, does a responsible nuclear power ignore the victims of its nuclear tests? Whose justice matters? Whose security? Whose future?

The very arguments that justify the strategy of nuclear deterrence undermine security and inhibit any progress towards disarmament. Fear and mistrust, responsible in part for the creation of the bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, now fuel proliferation.

Nuclear disarmament is not just about getting rid of weapons, but developing an international framework of justice and reconciliation that eliminates the causes of conflict and provides a means to resolve disputes without resorting to violence. It would serve us no good for nuclear disarmament to happen overnight; the process of achieving it is what guarantees our security. Or as António Guterres said in 2025, “Disarmament is not the reward for peace – it is the foundation of peace.”⁵³ Any country serious about the security of its people should place nuclear disarmament at the heart of its defence policy.

We also bear responsibility on behalf of those who have suffered, whether by the hands of our government, or any other individual or organisation.

You do not have to be the child who could not understand the tragedy unfolding around them; the Australian aboriginal whose homeland was irradiated; the test veteran who was gaslighted by his government; or the hibakusha who devoted their life to peace.

In working towards disarmament, we must reflect upon the humanitarian consequences of nuclear war, but not argue for disarmament on the basis of fear.

Consider the hibakusha. They have lived with dignity and integrity, and while their testimony is moving and powerful and upsetting, it is not the whole of them. They have shown that the pursuit of peace is not easy, that it requires resilience and defiance to make your voice heard against the cacophony of antagonistic voices. They have also shown the joy and consolation that can be found in peacebuilding. Their testimony is important, but so too is their spirit, and we have much to learn from them about matters of reconciliation.

Two paragraphs in the preamble of the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons mention the hibakusha:

“Mindful of the unacceptable suffering of and harm caused to the victims of the use of nuclear weapons (hibakusha), as well as of those affected by the testing of nuclear weapons”

“Stressing the role of public conscience in the furthering of the principles of humanity as evidenced by the call for the total elimination of nuclear weapons, and recognizing the efforts to that end undertaken by the United Nations, the International Red Cross and Red Crescent Movement, other international and regional organizations, non-governmental organizations, religious leaders, parliamentarians, academics and the hibakusha” ⁵⁴

That is a legacy. It is our duty to ensure it becomes more than that.

For that to happen, a fundamental shift is required at all levels of our society. In the current climate, the institutions that govern us and the media that inform us, tell us that spending more on defence and rearmament is absolutely necessary for our security. There are very few mainstream voices that reject this on principle.

War, its language and aesthetics, are being leveraged by politicians and military leaders to drive recruitment, intensify rearmament, and pacify public opposition to future military action. In the public debate about defence and security, the idea of peacebuilding is almost entirely absent from the conversation. And when people have spoken out, the government has responded with the passage of draconian laws restricting public assembly and by designating direct-action organisations as terrorists.

The unspoken line is that war is just and inevitable.

We can't accept that.

A Final Thought

Over the years, I have found that the tube is not the best place to dwell on sad or angry thoughts. I cast my mind back to Hiroshima Day, sitting alone, feeling disgruntled as I hurtled back to Liverpool Street. Truthfully, it can't be helped. Life seems to oscillate between losing hope and regaining it. Case in point: the anger I felt has since faded. Writing those thoughts on paper and reading them aloud made me notice the despair that laced them. I was missing the point, I think, of remembrance. In reading the testimony of the hibakusha, I realised that I could focus my emotions more constructively. But maybe what I failed to recognise most of all that day, is that when I was in Tavistock Square Gardens, I was amongst people who felt the same as I did. For all that I despaired inside about too few people caring, there they were.

Notes