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Why I Oppose
Nuclear Weapons
By David Krieger
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I
oppose nuclear weapons because they are long-distance killing
machines incapable of discriminating between soldiers and civilians, the
aged and the newly born, or between men, women and children.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they threaten the destruction of all that is sacred, of all that is
human, of all that exists.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they threaten to foreclose the future.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they are cowardly weapons, and in their use there can be no honor.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they are a false god, dividing nations into nuclear "haves" and
"have-nots," bestowing unwarranted prestige and privilege on those that
possess them.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they are a distortion of science and technology, twisting our knowledge
of nature to destructive purposes.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they mock international law, displacing it with an allegiance to raw
power.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they waste our resources on the development of instruments of
annihilation.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they concentrate power and undermine democracy.
I oppose nuclear weapons because
they corrupt our humanity.
Shortly after graduating from college, I visited the Hiroshima and
Nagasaki Peace Memorial Museums. At these museums, I was awakened to the
human suffering caused by the use of these weapons. This suffering is
not part of the American lore about the use of the bombs. These museums
gave me insight into the differences in perspective between those who
had been above the bombs and those beneath the bombs.
Those above the bombs, the victors, celebrated the technology of
triumph, and went on to engage in a mad nuclear arms race. Those beneath
the bombs, the victims, learned the simple lesson: "Never again! We
shall not repeat the evil."
The vision of the future held by those above the bombs and those beneath
the bombs may be the decisive struggle of our time. On the side of
nuclear weapons is the arrogance of power that is willing to put at risk
the future of civilization, if not of life itself. On the side of the
survivors, the hibakusha, is the moral clarity of calling evil by its
name.
Resolving this struggle is the challenge presented to humanity by
nuclear weapons. Each of us must choose. Ignorance, apathy and denial
are de facto votes for continuing the nuclear threat. Only by
unalterably opposing nuclear weapons and working actively for their
elimination can an individual align himself or herself with those who
experienced first-hand the absolute devastation of these weapons. This
is my choice. I seek without reservation the elimination of all nuclear
weapons from our unique planet, the only one we know of in the universe
that supports life.
People of the Bomb
It began with fear, not famine.
What was missing was an understanding
of consequences.
Still, the sky held a blue-white innocence.
It would be many years before light
would become so intense that you could see
your bones through translucent skin.
Silos still held grain, not missiles.
Snow-capped mountains brushed the sky
and held it aloft.
The bomb may have ended the war, but only
if history is read like a distant star.
What happened at Hiroshima and Nagasaki
cannot be forgotten, nor easily forgiven.
If only time had not bolted and changed course.
If only the white flags had flown before
the strange storm. If only there had been
one less Einstein and one more Vonnegut.
The sky turned white and aged, then
the colors of daybreak melted our hearts.
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From The Doves Flew High, a new collection of poetry by David Krieger |
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David Krieger
is president of the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation (www.wagingpeace.org)
and a councilor of the World Future Council. |
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