オバマ アメリカ大統領 於:広島平和公園
Seventy-one years ago, on a bright cloudless morning, death fell from the
sky and wall of fire destroyed s city
and demonstrated that mankind possessed the means to destroy itself.
Why do we come to this plase, to
Hiroshima? We come to ponder a terrible force unleashed in the not so distant
past. We come to mourn the dead, including over 100,000Japanese men, women and children, thousands of Koreans
and dozen Americans held prisoner.
Their souls speak to us. They ask us to look inward, to take stock of take of who we are and what we might become.
It is not the fact of war that sets Hiroshima apart Artifacts tell us that violent conflict appeared with the very first
man. Our early ancestors, having leaned to make blades from flint and spears from wood, used these tools not just
for hunting but against their own kind.
On every continent the history of civilization is filled with war, whether
driven by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold,
compelled by nationalist fervor or religious zeal.
Empires have risen and fallen, peoples have been subjugated and liberated,
and at each juncture innocents have
suffered ? a countless toll, their names forgotten by time.
The World War that reached its brutal end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought among the wealthiest and most
powerful of nations. Their civilizations had given the world great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers had advanced
ideas of justice and harmony and truth, and yet the war grew out of the same base instinct for domination or conquest
that had caused conflicts among the simplest tribes, an old pattern amplified by new capabilities and without new constraints.
In the span of a few years some 60 million people would die: men, women,
children ? no different than us, shot, beaten,
marched, bombed, jailed, starved, gassed to death.
There are many sites around the world that chronicle this war ? memorials
that tell stories of courage and heroism,
graves and empty camps that echo of unspeakable depravity.
Yet in the image of a mushroom cloud that rose into these skies, we are
most starkly reminded of humanity’s core
contradiction ? how the very spark that marks us as a species, our thoughts, our imagination, our language, our
tool making, our ability to set ourselves apart from nature and bend it to our will ? those very things also give us
the capacity for unmatched destruction.
How often does material advancement or social innovation blind us to this
truth? How easily do we learn to justify
violence in the name of some higher cause?
Every great religion promises a pathway to love and peace and righteousness,,
And yet no religion has been spared
from believers who have claimed their faith has a license to kill.
Nations arise telling a story that binds people together in sacrifice and
cooperation, allowing for remarkable feats,
but those same stories have so often been used to oppress and dehumanize those who are different.
Science allows us to communicate across the seas, fly above the clouds,
to cure disease and understand the cosmos.
But those same discoveries can be turned into ever more efficient killing machines.
The wars of the modern age teach us this truth. Hiroshima teachers this truth. Technological progress without an
equivalent progress in human institutions can doom us. The scientific revolution that led to the splitting of an atom
requires a moral revolution as well.
That is why we come to this place. We stand here in the middle of this
city and force ourselves to imagine the moment
the bomb fell. We force ourselves to feel the dread of children confused by what they see.
We listen to a silent cry. We remember all the innocents killed across
the arc of that terrible war, and the wars that
came before. and the wars that would follow.
Mere words cannot give voice to such suffering. But we have a shared responsibility
to look directly into the eye of
history and ask what we must do differently to curb such suffering again.
Some day the voices of the Hibakusha will no longer be with us to dear
witness. But the memory of the morning of
August 6, 1945 must never fade. That memory allows us to fight complacency. It fuels our moral imagination. It allows
us to change.
And since that fateful day we have made choices that give us hope. The United States and Japan forged not only an
alliance. but a friendship that has won far more for our people that we can ever claim through war.
The nations of Europe built a union that replaced battlefield with bonds of commerce and democracy.
Oppressed peoples and nations won liberation. An international community
established institutions and treaties that
worked to avoid war and aspired to restrict and roll back and ultimately eliminate the existence of nuclear weapons.
Still. every act of aggression between nations, every act of terror and
corruption and cruelty and oppression that we
see around the world shows our work is never done. We may not be able to eliminate man’s capa capacity to do evil,
so nations and the alliances that we formed must possess the means to defend ourselves.
Among those nations like my own that hold nuclear stockpiles, we must have
the courage to escape the logic of fear
and pursue a world without them. We may not realize this goal in my lifetime, but persistent effort can roll back the
possibility of catastrophe.
We can chart a course that leads to the destruction of these stockpiles, we can stop the spread to new nations. and
secure deadly materials from fanatics. And yet that is not enough, for we see around the world today how even the
crudest rifles and barrel bombs can serve up violence on a terrible scale.
We must change our mindset about war itself ? to prevent conflicts through
diplomacy and strive to end conflicts
after they’ve begun; to see our growing interdependence as a cause for peaceful cooperation and not violent
competition; to define our nations not by our capacity to destroy but by what we build. And perhaps above all
we must reimagine our connection to one another as members of one human race ? for this too is what makes
our species unique.
We’re not bound by genetic code to repeat the mistakes of the past. We
can learn. We can choose. We can tell
our children a different story. one that describes a common humanity, one that makes war less likely and cruelty
less easily accepted.
We see these stories in the Hibakusha: the woman who forgave a pilot who
flew the plane that dropped the atomic
bomb because the recognized what she really hated was war itself; the man who sought out families of Americans
killed here because he believed their loss was equal to his own.
My own nation’s story began with simple words: “All men are created equal, and endowed by our Creator with
certain unalienable rights, including life, liberty and the pursuit happiness.
Realizing that ideal has never been easy, even within our own borders, even among our own citizens. But staying
true to that story is worth the effort. It is an ideal to be strived for, an ideal that extends across continents and
The irreducible worth of every person, the insistence that every life is
precious, the radical and necessary notion
that we are part of a single human family: that is the story that we all must tell.
That is why we come to Hiroshima, so that we might think of people we love,
the first smile from our children
in the morning, the gentle touch from a spouse over the kitchen table, the comforting embrace of a parent.
We can think of those things and know that those same precious moments
took place here 71 years ago. Those
who died, they are like us.
Ordinary people understand this, I think. They do not want more war. They
would rather that the wonders
of science be focused on improving life and not eliminating it.
When the choices made by nations, when the choices made by leaders reflect
this simple wisdom, then the
lesson of Hiroshima is done.
The world was forever changed here, but today the children of this city
will go through their day in peace.
What a precious thing that is. It is worth protecting and then extending to every child.
That is a future we can choose, a future in which Hiroshima and Nagasaki
are known not as the dawn of atomic
warfare, but as the start of our own moral awakening.