I met Sadae Kasaoka in the fall of 2016 in Hiroshima. She was – is – a petite and vivacious woman. When he speaks, his figure is magnified and his voice conveys an impregnable determination. Sadae Kasaoka is one of the survivors (a hibakusha, as they are known) of the atomic bomb dropped on the Japanese city by the United States on August 6, 1945, at the end of the Second World War. He was 12 years old when the B-29 Enola Gay bomber launched the first nuclear attack in history. The bomb, dubbed Little Boy, exploded at 8:15 a.m. at an altitude of 600 meters, destroying practically the entire city and killing 140,000 people.
Among the dead were Sadae's parents. She got rid of it because that day she stayed at home, more than three kilometers from the center. “Suddenly, I saw a very strong glow outside, first red and then orange, and the window panes exploded. Then it rained black water", he remembers. Nor has he forgotten – how could he? – his father's terrible agony when they brought him home. Nor the army of wounded wandering the streets: "They looked like ghosts, like zombies, walking with their arms outstretched, their skin in tatters...".
Sadae Kasaoka is 90 years old today and has made the duty to keep the memory alive and the fight for the abolition of nuclear weapons his reason for living. "I don't want more wars, I don't want more suffering. And that the world's nuclear weapons disappear. A lot of people don't know how horrible they are. That's why I have to explain it", he said. On the eve of the May 19-21 G-7 summit in Hiroshima, Sadae Kasaoka and other hibakusha addressed the leaders of the world's major democratic economic powers asking them to take a decisive step toward nuclear disarmament . His disappointment was proportional to the lack of commitments. There were very good words, but to say very little.
After a 30-minute lightning tour of the Hiroshima Peace Park and Museum – which included a brief meeting with a survivor – the leaders of the United States, the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Canada, Italy and Japan (the first three, possessors of the atomic bomb) expressed their "commitment to achieve a world without nuclear weapons with indestructible security for all". Adding the -substantial- precision that disarmament and non-proliferation efforts must start from "a realistic, pragmatic and responsible approach".
The president wrote in the guest book a commendable but non-committal statement: "May the stories of this museum remind us all of our obligations to build a future of peace. Together, we continue to move toward the day when we can finally and forever rid the world of nuclear weapons. You have to keep the faith!" I don't know if Sadae Kasaoka has much faith left.
"This city that experienced the nuclear catastrophe has been dishonored by foolish leaders who reaffirm nuclear weapons," lamented Akira Kawasaki, from the Japanese non-governmental organization Peace Bat. "The inaction of the G-7 is an insult to the hibakusha and to the memory of those who died in Hiroshima", reacted for its part the leadership of the International Campaign for the Abolition of Nuclear Weapons (ICAN), which 2017 he won the Nobel Peace Prize. The action of this group, which brings together more than 600 organizations from a hundred countries, managed to get the UN to approve - with the support of 122 states - the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons in 2017. Its effects, however, are merely symbolic, since none of the nine nuclear powers (China, North Korea, USA, France, India, Israel, Pakistan, United Kingdom and Russia) have ratified it. Between them all they store more than 13,000 atomic weapons, 90% in the hands of the USA and Russia.
One can share the sadness of Sadae Kasaoka and the hibakusha. But if the war in Ukraine has made something starkly clear, it is that good intentions are not enough. And if there is one thing that cannot be asked for - today less than ever - it is unilateral disarmament. After the collapse of the USSR in 1991, Ukraine agreed to return to Russia the 3,000 nuclear weapons stationed on its territory. In exchange, the latter committed, in the 1994 Budapest Memorandum, to respect the sovereignty and territorial integrity of the newly independent country and to renounce the use of force. As we have seen, for President Vladimir Putin, Russia's word is worthless.
Unable to assert its military superiority on the battlefield after more than a year of war, Moscow repeatedly threatens a nuclear conflagration with the West over its military support for Kyiv and has even sent weapons to Belarus tactical nukes.
In this escalation, Putin announced in February that he was suspending the application of the New START Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty, signed with the US in 2010, which limits each country's arsenal to 1,550 deployed nuclear warheads. In response, Washington has announced this week that it is also reneging on some obligations - without providing Moscow with data on its missiles and launchers -, although it has offered to respect the limits agreed in the treaty until 2026 - the year it expires - if Russia does the same, and resume bilateral talks on nuclear arms control.
With the war in Ukraine, the most dangerous times of the cold war have returned.
