Some 20,000 or more people were killed instantly in the atomic bombing of Nagasaki on 9 August 1945; an additional 40,000 ormore died from radiation and related illnesses in the coming days and weeks. Many others were exposed to radiation effects. Remembrance, the struggle for recognition on the part of the victims or hibakusha, and the even greater struggle waged by City Hall in Nagasaki to bring to world attention the threat of nuclear weapons, are at the heart of this book. This we term the Nagasaki peace discourse. Yet, other narratives vie with the `idealist’ view. `Realists’ welcome the nuclear umbrella provided by the US–Japan Treaty system and have eagerly embraced civilian nuclear power under the `atoms-forpeace’ slogan. On their part, Japanese nationalists perceive Japan’s `peace constitution’ as ripe for revision, looking ahead to a legal Self Defense Force and, for some, a `normal’ and even a nuclear-armed Japan. In the light of the Fukushima nuclear disaster of 11 March 2011, however, City Hall in Nagasaki cannot ignore the risks of civilian nuclear power or the nation’s mounting stockpile of plutonium. With Nagasaki prefecture host to the second largest US naval base in Japan, as became apparent with the 2017–18 Korean missilecrisis, neither can the city insulate itself from international politics. Seventy and more years on from the atomic bombings, Hiroshima and, in subtly different ways, Nagasaki, have a sombre message to convey. This is encapsulated in no better way than in the popular civil society slogan, `No! More! Hibakusha!’

Some 20,000 or more people were killed instantly in the atomic bombing of Nagasaki on 9 August 1945; an additional 40,000 ormore died from radiation and related illnesses in the coming days and weeks. Many others were exposed to radiation effects. Remembrance, the struggle for recognition on the part of the victims or hibakusha, and the even greater struggle waged by City Hall in Nagasaki to bring to world attention the threat of nuclear weapons, are at the heart of this book. This we term the Nagasaki peace discourse. Yet, other narratives vie with the `idealist’ view. `Realists’ welcome the nuclear umbrella provided by the US–Japan Treaty system and have eagerly embraced civilian nuclear power under the `atoms-forpeace’ slogan. On their part, Japanese nationalists perceive Japan’s `peace constitution’ as ripe for revision, looking ahead to a legal Self Defense Force and, for some, a `normal’ and even a nuclear-armed Japan. In the light of the Fukushima nuclear disaster of 11 March 2011, however, City Hall in Nagasaki cannot ignore the risks of civilian nuclear power or the nation’s mounting stockpile of plutonium. With Nagasaki prefecture host to the second largest US naval base in Japan, as became apparent with the 2017–18 Korean missilecrisis, neither can the city insulate itself from international politics. Seventy and more years on from the atomic bombings, Hiroshima and, in subtly different ways, Nagasaki, have a sombre message to convey. This is encapsulated in no better way than in the popular civil society slogan, `No! More! Hibakusha!’