The Questioners Are Quietly Changing — A Reflection on Mr. Minomaki’s Statement, the High School Peace Ambassadors’ Inauguration Ceremony, and the Visit of Atomic Bomb Survivor Veterans’ Families to Hiroshima

The Questioners Are Quietly Changing — A Reflection on Mr. Minomaki's Statement, the High School Peace Ambassadors' Inau

By Rei

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The Questioners Are Quietly Changing — A Reflection on Mr. Minomaki’s Statement, the High School Peace Ambassadors’ Inauguration Ceremony, and the Visit of Atomic Bomb Survivor Veterans’ Families to Hiroshima

An 86-year-old atomic bomb survivor posed a poignant question to the governor of Hiroshima Prefecture, high school students from across the nation gathered for their inauguration ceremony, and the families of American soldiers who died in the bombing visited Hiroshima — these three events occurred separately yet concurrently in different contexts. However, when we overlay their outlines, a singular structure emerges: the “side that questions peace” is quietly transitioning.

Mr. Minomaki’s Statement Illuminates the “Location of the Question”

The words thrown at the governor of Hiroshima Prefecture by Tomoyuki Minomaki, the former chairman of the Hiroshima Prefectural Atomic Bomb Survivors Association, were succinct: “Will you comply if the constitutional amendment is decided?” — This is not a matter of policy or legal discussion. It is a question that probes a more fundamental human attitude.

What is noteworthy is the very “form” of this question. The atomic bomb survivor did not make a request or a petition to the head of the administration. Instead, it was a first-person inquiry demanding a personal commitment: “What will you do?” For many years, the activities of atomic bomb survivor organizations have operated within the framework of “systematic language” such as signatures and requests. The significance of Mr. Minomaki stepping beyond that and asking in personal terms is not insignificant.

The average age of atomic bomb survivors has surpassed 85. According to statistics from the Ministry of Health, Labour and Welfare, the number of holders of atomic bomb survivor health cards is about 106,000 as of the end of March 2024, a reduction of over 70% from the peak of approximately 370,000. A decrease in numbers means a reduction in the overall volume of voices. Therefore, the density of a single voice increases. Mr. Minomaki’s question resonated widely through the media precisely because of its high density.

However, it is essential to pause and consider “what happened after it was received.” How did the governor respond? Beyond the content of that response, did the recipient of the question take it on as their own inquiry? A question only becomes what we can call “inheritance” when it transforms back into a question within the recipient.

The 29th High School Peace Ambassadors — The Thickness of a 29-Year-Old “System”

The inauguration ceremony for the 29th High School Peace Ambassadors took place in Hiroshima. Selected high school students from across the country began their activities under the banner of “Thoughts of Hiroshima and Nagasaki to the World.”

What tends to be overlooked in this initiative is the weight of the number “29.” This program, which began in 1998, has now continued for over a quarter of a century. This means that the first peace ambassadors are now in their mid-40s. Rather than high school students remaining as high school students, former ambassadors have spread throughout society, each maintaining their own “circuit for discussing peace” — such a structure is already beginning to take shape.

The fact that the system has lasted for 29 years means that every year, someone has been managing the secretariat, conducting selections, organizing the inauguration ceremony, arranging travel, and setting up reporting sessions. The accumulation of these behind-the-scenes efforts supports the words of the high school students who stand in the spotlight. Individual enthusiasm alone cannot sustain 29 years. The system cultivates people, and those who have been nurtured support the system in return — this nested structure is likely the true achievement of this program.

What kind of messages this year’s ambassadors will convey remains to be seen. However, one thing is certain: they are not “representatives” of the atomic bomb survivors. When a generation without direct memories of the bombing speaks about peace in their own words, there will inevitably be a translation involved. Translation always entails change. Something is lost, and something is added. Whether one views that change as “deterioration” or “renewal” fundamentally alters the meaning of inheritance.

The Visit of Atomic Bomb Survivor Veterans’ Families to Hiroshima — A Circuit Outside the “Perpetrator and Victim” Dichotomy

The third event is the visit to Hiroshima by the families of American soldiers who died in the atomic bombing.

The victims of the atomic bombing in Hiroshima were not only Japanese citizens. At the time, there were at least a dozen American military prisoners, including crew members of a downed B-24, in Hiroshima. They too were present under that flash. Through years of research by citizen researchers like Akira Morishige, their existence has been gradually revealed one by one. Many may remember the moment in 2016 when then-President Obama visited Hiroshima and embraced Morishige.

This visit by the families is a continuation of that narrative. For them, Hiroshima is not a “city of the enemy.” It is the place where their family members met their end. Nationality does not dictate the emotions of mourning — while it may be overly simplistic to say so, at least when they set foot on Hiroshima’s soil, a circuit opens that cannot be captured within the binary framework of “perpetrator and victim.”

Another significant aspect of this visit is that it changes the “direction of questioning.” For a long time, peace movements within Japan have been articulated from the perspective of Japanese atomic bomb survivors. The inclusion of American soldiers’ families shakes the very question of “who is a victim?” The structure of war is not designed for only one side to be harmed. The presence of the families quietly yet surely confronts this obvious truth.

The Common Structure Connecting the Three Events — The Layering of the “Questioning Subjects”

When we line up the three events we have examined, a common structure becomes apparent.

Mr. Minomaki questioned the administration in personal terms from the standpoint of an “affected party” as an atomic bomb survivor. The High School Peace Ambassadors are seeking to acquire their own words while being supported by the system as a generation without direct experiences of the bombing. The families of American soldiers have opened a new entry point into the previously closed circuits of questioning within Japan from outside its borders.

The angles of the three parties are entirely different. Yet, the questions that lie ahead overlap: “How do we receive this pain, and how do we re-narrate it?” — that is the common inquiry.

It is important to note that this is not a linear narrative of “generational change.” Mr. Minomaki’s question cannot be “replaced” by the activities of high school students. The visit of the American soldiers’ families does not “supplement” the narratives of Japanese atomic bomb survivors. Each exists as an independent circuit, mutually influencing one another while increasing the overall volume of questions. This is not a changeover; it is a layering.

Inheritance Is Passing on a “Question,” Not an “Answer”

When discussing the inheritance of peace, the focus often centers on “what to convey.” The recording of testimonies, the archiving of images, the descriptions in textbooks — all of these take the form of “answers.” They are records of what happened and the lessons derived from them.

However, what Mr. Minomaki posed to the governor was not an answer but a question. What the high school students will face moving forward is not reciting pre-prepared answers but rather formulating their own questions. The families of American soldiers came to Hiroshima not in search of answers but to share questions.

What should truly be passed on in inheritance may not be “answers” but rather “questions.” Answers become outdated with time. However, questions can grow into new forms within the recipients.

As the average age of atomic bomb survivors exceeds 85, the day when the number of cardholders falls below 100,000 is not far off. The overall volume of voices is certainly diminishing. In that context, the layering of questioning subjects is not a cause for pessimism but a form of hope.

Future Points of Interest

  • Responses to Mr. Minomaki’s Question: How did the governor respond, and to what extent will that response expand into public discourse? I want to follow whether the question will fade away unanswered.
  • The Quality of the High School Peace Ambassadors’ “Translations”: When they translate the words of atomic bomb survivors into their own, what remains, and what changes? The substance of that change will reveal the reality of inheritance.
  • Progress in Research on American Atomic Bomb Survivors: Is there any movement to continue the research conducted by Akira Morishige and others? Will a system emerge to support the facts unearthed through individual dedication?
  • Movements Leading Up to the 80th Anniversary of the Bombing (2025): Next year marks the 80th anniversary of the bombing. As plans for ceremonies and projects become more concrete, I want to pay attention to the design philosophy of “who speaks.”

The side that questions is not changing; it is increasing. Within this quiet transformation, a new form of peace inheritance is beginning to emerge.

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