An Open Letter To: President George W. Bush,
I am an American student currently studying in Japan. This October, I traveled to Hiroshima and was able to see the reality of an Atomic Bomb. As I walked through the Hiroshima Peace Park, I saw the miraculously eerie, hollow, remains of the "Genbaku Dome", which was one of the few buildings to survive the horrifying force of the Atomic Bomb. I walked further, and saw the "Peace Flame" burning hopelessly for peace in an era frozen in a global panic of war and Atomic energy. I continued, and walked through the Peace Memorial Museum. I concluded my day by receiving an unforgettable talk from an Atomic Bomb survivor, who showed me her physical scars, and disturbingly relived August 6th, 1945 with me. She lucidly recalled each sickening memory as if that day had never passed.
Heroically, her scars healed, Cancer came and went, and she resolutely moved forward. To my amazement, there were no traces of bitterness in her voice. In her talk, she did not reprimand the United States for dropping the Atomic Bomb in 1945; rather, she agonized over America's current calamity in Iraq. She agonized over the year 2005, which dragged us deeper into the mire of war. How could the United States, the father of the greatest terror known to mankind, incite wars and create a global frenzy where the use of an Atomic Bomb could become a reality? Hiroshima stands as a symbol of what can happen when men let their animalistic instincts break the restraints of society. However, in varying degrees, every generation suffers from the scars of its own "Hiroshima"; and the new millennium does not possess immunity. I will not pretend to understand the delicate interactions of the world. Nevertheless, I do know that the failure to learn from old mistakes will lead to new regrets.
Hiroshima removed the veil of numbness which I had created to shield my own fragility from the poignant realities of war. Hiroshima made death real. President Bush, I invite you to be my guest in Japan. I invite you to Hiroshima to receive the same talk I did. I know you are busy, but I guarantee that you will not regret this decision.
A Proud American,
Mason Benjamin Horowitz