The annual ceremonies in Hiroshima on Aug. 6 and Nagasaki on Aug. 9 are somber yet chilling events. But on the 80th anniversaries of history’s only atomic bombings, Japan’s peace advocates seem more isolated than ever in a world headed toward greater proliferation—and where even pacifist Japan may decide it needs its own nuclear bomb.
In Hiroshima, the Peace Bell is rung and sirens across the city usher in a minute of silence in order to “pay silent tribute to the victims of the atomic bombing and pray for the realization of lasting world peace.” In Nagasaki, similar words are uttered under the watchful eye of a 32-foot bronze statue of a man with the right hand raised to represent the atomic bomb and the left hand outstretched to pray for peace. The two bombings together killed an estimated 200,000 to 300,000 people.
For Japan’s peace activists, including the 2024 Nobel Peace Prize-winning confederation of atomic bomb survivors Nihon Hidankyo and the remaining survivors known as hibakusha, the goal is straightforward: to remind society of what happened and to promote a world without nuclear weapons.
But the risk of nuclear proliferation is now higher than at any time since the passage of the landmark 1970 U.N. Treaty on the Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons (NPT). The agreement, which has been backed by 191 nations, has managed to keep a lid, if not a perfect one, on the growth of nuclear weapons arsenals beyond the five recognized nuclear states. Only four other countries have acquired the bomb since 1970: Israel, India, Pakistan, and North Korea. But that number seems set to grow.
“We are in the very moment of crisis. We are facing growing divisions and conflicts. People are becoming more aggressive to each other, and many people have pessimistic views towards the future,” said Hirotsugu Terasaki, head of peace and global issues for the Japan Buddhist organization Soka Gakkai, which advocates an end to all nuclear weapons.
The concerns are understandable given the catalogue of growing nuclear risks—and they’re driving Japanese politicians to rethink their own calculus.
North Korea, once dismissed as a “hermit state” with a bellicose propaganda machine and little else, is now a full-fledged nuclear power—and extremely unlikely to surrender that achievement, especially as it looks to the fate of leaders like Libya’s Muammar al-Qaddafi who were persuaded to give up their quest for the bomb. The stated goal of Western nations to force Pyongyang to abandon all nuclear weapons in exchange for an end to sanctions is dead in the water, and North Korea has grown worryingly close to President Vladimir Putin’s Russia.
India and Pakistan are sparring even more frequently than before, with the air battles in May just the latest clash. China’s close ties to and military support for Pakistan and its own disputes with New Delhi add even more volatility.
Allies and enemies alike are alarming Tokyo. China is losing no time in strengthening its already sizable nuclear force. According to the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, China now has at least 600 nuclear warheads and is ramping up the total faster than any other country at about 100 new warheads a year since 2023.
But the biggest source of a new round of nuclear proliferation may well be from Washington, with President Donald Trump’s ever-changing statements on the extent of U.S. commitment to its allies and his focus on alleged transgressions often linked to the trade conflicts of the 1970s and ’80s. The timing could hardly be worse, with Tokyo fearing the president is taking away the long-standing U.S. security umbrella just as the risk of a nuclear storm grows.
The newfound uncertainty among allies in Europe has produced a groundbreaking agreement between France and the United Kingdom to coordinate their nuclear arsenals with an eye toward extending their protection to other European nations.
But for South Korea and Japan, who are at best uneasy partners through the United States, there are no easy alternatives, and the signals that Trump is in effect monetizing the presence of U.S. forces in both countries do little to calm their nerves. In his first term, Trump said Japan should quadruple what it pays to help cover the costs of U.S. forces to around $8 billion. Last year on the campaign trail, he suggested that South Korea should pay up to $10 billion.
That’s changed calculations in Tokyo. Talk of Japan acquiring its own bomb was previously confined to the right-wing fringe of Japanese society (often twinned with the idea that Japan was morally correct in its World War II aggression).
Former Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, a notable hawk, said in 2022 after leaving office that Japan should consider hosting nuclear weapons, while eight retired senior defense officials authored a report this year saying Japan should reconsider its entire nuclear policy. Public opinion has also shifted. A 2024 survey by the University of Tokyo found a mixed view on the issue with 61.4 percent against or somewhat against Japan having its own nuclear weapons, with 19.8 percent in favor.
A Japanese bomb would be in direct contradiction to Japan’s long-standing three non-nuclear principles, which state Japan will not possess, produce, or permit the introduction of nuclear weapons. An abandonment of these principles would be a tectonic shift, perhaps too far for a conservative society. But the government knows it needs to adapt quickly in the Trump era of geopolitics.
Technologically, Japan would have little trouble in building a bomb, although a credible delivery system and the necessary command-and-control structure would be a taller hurdle.
But Japan’s anti-nuclear advocates remain steadfast, pointing out that the road to a nuclear-free world has often seemed unattainable and that there have been bright spots as well.
One positive is that nonproliferation efforts have worked in the past. More than a dozen nations have either given up their weapons or halted development programs—and sometimes under moral pressure, not geopolitical arm-twisting. That list includes South Africa, Belarus, Brazil, Argentina, and even Sweden.
The taboo against use has also held. Since Nagasaki, there has never been an atomic or nuclear bomb detonated in warfare, despite the many regional conflicts of the past 80 years, as the Norwegian Nobel Committee noted in awarding the prize to Hidankyo and the hibakusha.
The key weapon in the anti-nuclear arsenal is storytelling. Even into their 90s, the Hiroshima and Nagasaki survivors have proved to be tireless salespeople for their cause, giving speeches and taking part in seminars in Japan and globally. They’ve adapted to a social media age, using video interviews with chilling stories told in a calm and straightforward manner. “The Hibakusha help us to describe the indescribable, to think the unthinkable, and to somehow grasp the incomprehensible pain and suffering caused by nuclear weapons,” the Nobel committee noted.
The focus on the two bombings is not without its own controversies, with some critics, both in Japan and elsewhere, saying that commentaries on the horror of war can be used to depict Japan as a victim of the war rather than a transgressor. Ritsu Yonekura, a researcher into news reporting on wartime topics in Japan, refers to “August journalism,” with a spike each year in stories on the bombings and Japan’s subsequent surrender.
“In such a context, Japan’s invasion, atrocities, colonial rule and other forms of ‘aggression’ are completely receded into the background. Instead, its self-image as victims of militarism is brought to the fore,” he said in a 2023 newspaper interview.
But for anti-nuclear groups, the issue is not about who was at fault in the past, it is about the future and whether the goal to eliminate nuclear weapons is still achievable: “I think our philosophy tells us that it is a fight between optimism and pessimism. We must continue to find hope in this very tough situation,” Terasaki said.