Japanese atomic bomb survivor Jiro Hamasumi: ‘Nuclear weapons must not coexist with humanity’

At the end of last year, the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded to Nihon Hidankyo, a collective made up of survivors of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Referred to collectively as the hibakusha, they have dedicated their lives to campaigning for nuclear disarmament and doing what they can to make sure nobody else has to live through the experiences they and their families endured.

With the hibakusha having an averaging age of around 85, Jiro Hamasumi is one of the youngsters. The 79-year-old is sometimes referred to as the youngest survivor of the nuclear bomb – his mother was three months pregnant and living in Hiroshima when the first atomic weapon used in war was dropped on 6 August 1945 (the main picture shows the horrific aftermath of the explosion).

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Now he is assistant general secretary of Nihon Hidankyo. In an age where there is still horrifying conflict in the world and the tectonic plates of geopolitics are shifting unpredictably, his story and message is vital.

Big Issue: When were you aware of being hibakusha?

Jiro Hamasumi: When the atomic bomb fell in Hiroshima on 6 August 1945, I was in my mother’s womb at the end of the first trimester. Our home was located 2.5 miles away from the hypocentre, near the Yaga railway station on the Geibi Line. That morning, my father left home and took a train to his office, which was 0.3 miles away from ground zero. Our house was packed with relatives who had evacuated from Hiroshima city centre, totalling 30 people. But on the day, only my father didn’t return home. The following day, my pregnant mother and sisters entered the devastated area to look for my father. Enduring the heat from the fires and the smell of dead bodies, they searched for him but failed.

On the next day, they tried again and encountered a person who knew where he was at the moment of the bombing. They went home with three fragments of my father: the buckle of his belt, a bunch of keys and the metal frame of his purse. 

I was born in February 1946 and grew up looking at a monochrome photograph of my father, hanging on the wall. When we were starving for food, my relatives who had immigrated to the US before the war sometimes sent chocolates; that taste is unforgettable. 

Nevertheless, my family struggled all the time. Although my mother worked as a collector of electricity bills, my elder brother worked to maintain seven siblings. I was able to enrol in university as the youngest sibling, thanks to my brother’s support. Otherwise, I could not have lived this way.

What else do you remember about your early life?

I remember the check-up vehicle came to my elementary school. Our bodies were investigated by the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission (ABCC), but they didn’t give any treatment. They just took away the result to the US and said no significant [radiation poisoning] effect to survivors was found, despite the death toll reaching 140,000 in Hiroshima and 70,000 in Nagasaki within 1945 alone. In my home, seven relatives passed away, including a three-year-old boy who suddenly died without any injuries, and my cousin died after losing their hair. Four or five dead bodies were burned day by day in an elementary school nearby. After 11 years, survivors started to open their mouths in order to not repeat the victimisation and suffering.

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You have said that: “I was born in exchange for my father’s death.” How has this belief influenced you through life and does it continue to motivate your work with Nihon Hidankyo?

The turning point was when I turned 49, the age my father died. I realised that I didn’t know very much about my father and so I wrote to my siblings to ask all about him. I was invited to share my story. I never forgot my father, his cruel death, which is the impetus for my work. 

Approximately 12,000 nuclear weapons exist today. And supposedly 4,000 of them are ready to launch. Unless their number reaches zero, we hibakusha will continue to live with much anxiety and without peace of mind.

Do you feel a responsibility to tell your story and that of survivors?

Yes, sharing the experience as hibakusha is hard. It’s painful. In the testimonial activities from schools and communities to the NPT [Non-Proliferation Treaty of Nuclear Weapons] Review Conference, I sometimes get a little teary-eyed. 

It may be difficult for children to understand an event of 80 years ago as a current issue, so I usually begin with, “Hibakusha remember that day as if yesterday,” hoping they take over this story, because all hibakusha will disappear in the future. One day, an audience left me a saying: “‘々渼尽 [tō-tō-mu-jin]” [originating from Buddhism, a simple translation is ‘endless light’]. If only you hold a candle, the light may be out. But if you pass the flame to others the light will stay. I tell children about this word in the testimony, and they do it in their way.

How does it feel when you see scenes of devastation from war zones across the world today?

Although there may be some difference between A-bombings and current wars, the commonality is that
most deaths are children, women and elderly people. 

Every person had their own daily life and dreams, and some of their lives ended a few years after their birth. Could that be forgiven? How will atonement be made for them? 

We hibakusha felt so when we saw the scenes in Gaza and Ukraine and reconfirmed the importance of legislation. Because the war didn’t stop, the atomic bombs were dropped. We know that firsthand.

Congratulations on being awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. What are your strongest memories about travelling to Oslo for the ceremony?

Above all, I was able to closely hear the speeches by our co-chairperson Terumi Tanaka and Nobel Committee chair Jørgen Watne Frydnes. I was very touched. Nihon Hidankyo had already been nominated as a candidate for the Nobel Peace Prize several times, but we didn’t expect we would really receive it.

What impressed you in the speeches?

Mr Tanaka addressed our two basic demands – the elimination of nuclear weapons and state compensation for the A-bomb damages, which we Nihon Hidankyo have appealed for over the 69 years since our establishment. Nuclear weapons must not co-exist with humanity. We should abolish them immediately to prevent any more hibakusha. The Japanese government never acknowledged their responsibility for the atomic bombings and never compensated for the hundreds of thousands of deaths.

Mr Frydnes stated, as the reasons for awarding, that with the testimonies of atomic bombings from hibakusha, you could perceive with sensitivity the inhumanity of nuclear weapons. He talked about the encouraging fact that because hibakusha have persistently made efforts to convey that nuclear weapons must never be used again, we have not seen the firing of them for 80 years. But he emphasised that the nuclear taboo is now under pressure during the Russia-Ukraine and Israel-Gaza wars so now is the time to remind the world of Nihon Hidankyo’s message.

What message would you like to share with readers of Big Issue?

While every hibakusha has their testimony, in my case, I was exposed to A-bomb radiation in utero. I’d like you to know what that means. It doesn’t mean the children in Hiroshima and Nagasaki were protected in their mother’s womb; rather, they have had radiational impacts since they were extremely young. Some of those survivors may be physically shorter and others may be cognitively affected. Parents passed away so their siblings or care workers [had to] look after them. It’s ongoing; the damage of A-bombs hasn’t ended. We all live in a state of anxiety.

A school teacher, an in-utero A-bomb survivor who died at 40 due to cancer, leaving her two children, once said in-utero hibakusha were hibakusha before they were born. What a cruelty; they came to the world as hibakusha, with no choice. That is the denial of life as a human being. I’d like you to know nuclear weapons can do these things.

This week sees the third Meeting of States Parties to the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons (TPNW) at the United Nations headquarters in New York.

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