FORTY-FIVE years after the atomic bombs that destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945, the world abounds with material about the consequences of nuclear weapons. We are not only familiar with the fact that nuclear weapons are directed at major cities all over the world and that new "devices" are continually installed, but we also realize the indescribable results if these weapons were ever used. We have heard about "nuclear winter," which would leave no environment suitable for human life, and about the neutron bomb, which would leave buildings but no life.
In comparison, the atomic bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were ridiculously small. They affected less than half a million people. Today, the cities destroyed are sprawling centers where one has to search for signs of catastrophe. Every visitor who comes to Hiroshima and Nagasaki for the first time is surprised, and perhaps also, for at least a moment, inclined to doubt the horrors that were so real forty-five years ago. But those horrors still haunt the survivors as nightmares about the past and as fear for the future and the health of unborn generations.
The survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki are still the only human beings who can tell what it means to survive nuclear war. In spite of that, the world has only occasionally listened to them. In fact, only periodically has the world concerned itself with the effects of nuclear weapons at all. Today, we live in times when this concern is widespread, but this was not so in 1969. Then it was possible for a young Swedish woman like myself to arrive in Hiroshima and be shocked that I had realized so little of what the atomic bombing of Hiroshima means. I was shaken by my own lack of realization and by the sorrow of the survivors at not being heard.
I thought at that time that it was solely out of disinterest and inertia that Hiroshima and Nagasaki were not on the minds of people in general. I could find no explanation as to why the atomic bombings received mere passing mention in the history books of my native Sweden. But being a writer, I wanted to remedy this lack of knowledge as best as I could by interviewing survivors and publishing their stories.
I soon became aware, however, that it had not always been possible to conduct such interviews, much less to publish them. Many of the hibakusha (atomic bomb survivors) I met told me that material about the atomic bomb, its effects, and the conditions of hibakusha in Hiroshima and Nagasaki had been censored. One of them was Issei Nishimori, a medical doctor who specialized in pathology, particularly white corpuscle count in the blood. He was a medical student at the time of the atomic bombing of Nagasaki. After the war he decided to concentrate on research concerning the effects of the atomic bomb on human beings. But he soon discovered that this was very difficult:
Partly this was because we could not afford research. We had to make a living. But partly it was because if we had conducted research we would not have been able to make the results public. Research during this period soon after the actual bombings would have been important. The Americans did not order us to stop, but they imposed so many restrictions, for example, that everything had to be translated into English, that in practice we were prohibited from publishing.
Also, they took all the autopsy material that we had collected and sent it to America. Had even half of it been left, we pathologists could have done research on the effects of the atomic bomb on human beings. As it was, there was no autopsy material about the important period of the bombing and its immediate aftermath. The material was not returned to us for thirty years, and then only after we repeatedly asked for it At that time, of course, it was already history.
Neither were we told anything about the results of the research undertaken at the Atomic Bomb Casualty Commission (ABCC), started in Hiroshima in 1947. All results were sent to America. There was no possibility of having them published in Japan. In addition, the ABCC only did research. It did not try to cure. It kept many secrets. This made hibakusha feel that they were experimental animals. As a doctor I think it is common sense that when one finds something new during research one should publish it for the benefit of all human beings. But the ABCC did not share its research. Had the Americans, with their higher knowledge in medical science, done that, many patients would have been saved.1
Another person who told me about limits to the spread of information about the atomic bombings was Sueo Inoue, a cameraman for Nippon Eiga-sha (Nippon Film Co.) In September 1945 he had been sent to Hiroshima and Nagasaki to film the destruction:
Our plan was to appeal against the inhumanity of the atomic bomb to the Red Cross in Geneva. Our team also belonged to an academic investigation group doing research about the effects of the bomb. We were thirty-two or thirty-three persons. On September 16 we started filming in Nagasaki. We continued until October 24, when we were arrested by American military police. Then all work was stopped. All the film was confiscated. I was told to return to Tokyo.
My company protested against the confiscation, but we were told that it was on orders from the American Navy. When the Americans watched our films, they found them useful. So they changed our orders and gave us permission to take more film. We had finished in Hiroshima but returned to Nagasaki. By December we had completed our work. Then we were ordered to edit the films. The films were taken to America—everything we had shot and edited, even the small cuts. All in all it was 30,000 feet of film. The Japanese government had to pay the cost of the raw film.
But secretly we copied some film before giving it to the Americans. Only four people knew about this film. If the Occupation authorities had known, they would probably have sent us to Okinawa for hard labor. The reason we made the copy was that we wanted to show proof of the inhumanity of the atomic bomb. We wanted to send the film to the Red Cross in Geneva. But under the Occupation we did not dare to. We thought maybe we would be able to show it when the Occupation had come to an end.2
Even people who had nothing to do with information, newspapers, or film-making knew about restrictions. Tsukasa Uchida was a Nagasaki schoolboy in 1945:
The Americans brought bulldozers to clear up the Urakami area which had been hit by the atomic bomb. There were still many dead under the rubbish. Despite that the Americans drove their bulldozers very fast, treating the bones of the dead just the same as sand or soil. They carried the soil to lower places and used it to broaden roads there. A person who tried to take a picture of what they were doing was approached by the military police. The MP pointed his gun and threatened to confiscate any picture taken.
Because of the Press Code there was no possibility for us to write about such incidents. Newspapermen did not tell about them and they did not appear even in the readers' columns.
But Dr. Takashi Nagai was allowed to publish what he wrote. He was a Catholic. He called the atomic bomb a kind of baptism. In spite of the horrendous conditions after the bombing in Nagasaki he said that God must have had a special meaning, letting the atomic bomb be dropped on the Urakami area, where many Catholics lived.3
Hideo Matsuno, who was a journalist at the Domei News Agency, told me: "Because of the Press Code, we could not write freely. I kept my reports about Nagasaki in the hope that someday I would be able to publish them."4
In Hiroshima I was told similar things by the poet Sadako Kurihara. During our interview she suddenly said: "We could never have written about our experiences of the atomic bomb during the Occupation. It would have been impossible because of the censorship."5
Like most other people, I never thought of censorship in connection with the American Occupation of Japan. I had read many histories about this period and never heard about censorship. I associated censorship with dictatorship. The Occupation, on the other hand, I thought of as the democratization of defeated, militaristic Japan. "We were not allowed to write about the atomic bomb during the Occupation. We were not even allowed to say that we were not allowed to write about the atomic bomb," Ms. Kurihara explained.
Why? From those days in the 1970s when I first heard about Occupation censorship, I wanted to find the answer. But when I looked through available literature about the Occupation, I rarely found censorship mentioned, and then most often in passing. Regarding censorship of the atomic bomb, there were only brief reminiscences by people like Sadako Kurihara, who had themselves experienced it.
In 1977 the United States declassified the archives on the Occupation of Japan. The complete Records of the Supreme Commander for the Allied Forces, with a few exceptions, became available to the public. This enormous collection of material, although extremely poorly organized, opened up completely new possibilities for research into one of the most extensive attempts at social engineering ever—the remaking of Japan in the image of American democracy.
For the first time it also became possible extensively to research censorship during the American Occupation. No comprehensive studies on this subject had been written before that. The transformation of the minds and hearts of the Japanese people through the activities of the Civil Information and Education Section of the Occupation authorities have been studied—for example, the reformation of the education system. The censorship operations, on the other hand, were left largely unresearched, although they certainly played an important part in influencing Japanese knowledge and opinions. Because of this, when I started studying censorship of the atomic bomb I first had to find out about censorship in general.
My first question was: Why did the American Occupation impose censorship at all? Why and how was it decided to introduce censorship? Wasn't censorship totally inimical to the concept of democracy? Introducing democracy to Japan was the stated aim of the Allies. I could understand that censorship might be necessary when troops are occupying enemy territory in war. But Japan was not exclusively regarded as a defeated enemy after the surrender; it was a nation earmarked to become "better." The Japanese were to discard the military beliefs that led to war, in favor of democracy, which would assure peace. That, in short, was the American agenda. With that starting point, was the censorship envisaged as a military operation? Or did it in practice become something other than planned? How did the United States and the other Allies reason?
When I started studying the censorship plans I soon understood that the censorship operations were very broad. Generally speaking, Japan was an unknown country for Americans, even if Japan specialists in different departments prepared wide-ranging reports.6 For the ordinary participant in the Occupation, it was not only Japan's culture that was unknown. Even more important, from the viewpoint of censorship, was that few Americans understood the Japanese language, and it was extremely difficult to learn. How could censorship be feasible under such circumstances? Who were the censors? How did they work?
The practical aspects aside, what did the censors censor? The first thing that comes to mind is that censors delete criticism of themselves and the rulers they represent. Was this the case in Japan, in spite of the basic premises of democracy, which allow free political discussion? How was it possible under such circumstances to draw lines for what to allow and what to ban? Without clear-cut restrictions, could censorship be effective?
Not until these questions were answered would it be possible to take up the case of censorship of atomic bomb material. Dr. Nishimori, Mr. Inoue, Mr. Uchida, Mr. Matsuno, and Ms. Kurihara had stated that they had not been allowed to write freely about the atomic bomb. In spite of that, a look at bibliographies of books published during the Occupation showed that some works had been published on that subject. How was that possible? I had to ask: Were the Japanese I interviewed wrong?
The rules of American censorship, the Press Code, made no mention of the atomic bomb. In fact, the rules were rather vague. But when I found reports of censorship written by censors themselves it became clear that much material about the atomic bomb had, indeed, been censored. What was allowed and what was prohibited? With what motivations? And, above all, where were those decisions made? Was censorship policy in Japan concerning the atomic bomb set locally or in Washington? What were the reasons for censoring such material? It was, after all, already known throughout the world that on August 6, 1945, Hiroshima was obliterated by such a bomb. Hiroshima and Nagasaki could hardly be said to be a secret. As a whole, I wanted to know the result of the censorship of the atomic bomb in Japan during the first four years after the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.
These are questions that this study tries to answer. I have had to limit myself mainly to newspaper censorship, but I believe that this topic is representative of censorship in general. Further detailed studies are needed. I have searched the American archives of the Occupation to try to explain how the occupiers themselves reasoned and worked and to find the result of their actions. In doing so, it may seem that I have forgotten the hibakusha and their own evidence of what it was like to live under the Occupation and to write under censorship. But they are not forgotten. Had it not been for them, this study would never have been made. By making it I hope to contribute to an understanding of nuclear weapons, of their horror and their importance, both to those who possess them and to their victims.