Hibakusha: Japanese American Atomic Bomb Survivors

 

By Dean Toji

 

Most people don't realize that there were Americans living and Nagasaki when the two cities were bombed in 1945. But For example, Kanji Kuramoto, who was born in Honolulu, Hawaii, was visiting his ailing grandparents. “Because I made that one trip, the course of my life changed" says Kuramoto. "I was in Hiroshima two days after the bombing. I searched for my lost father for weeks, digging up over twenty dead bodies in my search.

 

He was one of many American children of Japanese immigrants to the United States who were in Japan during the war. These Nisei had often been sent there for a Japanese education, or because of the expense and difficulty that working immigrants parents had in raising children in America. When the war broke out, they were unable to return to the U.S. Hiroshima Prefecture was the birthplace of about one-third of the immigrants' parents, and as a consequence, had many Nisei living in the doomed city. About 4,800 Nisei were in Hiroshima City when the bomb fell. Most perished with the hundreds of thousands of other victims of the atomic blasts.

 

But many also survived, and some, along with other migrants, returned to the United States after the war. There are perhaps one thousand hibakusha, survivors of the atomic bombings, now living in the U.S. The majority are citizens, and nearly all the rest are permanent residents, usually married to Americans. A few of the hibakusha are of Korean descent. The hibakusha generally live in the areas with large Japanese American populations, the West Coast and Hawaii.

 

Kuramoto: "I have tried to forget this tragedy. It gave me great relief by returning to the United States, escaping that tragic experience. I enjoyed a very happy life with my wife and two children, erasing and ignoring the A-bomb event of the early years."

 

Most survivors, in Japan as well as those in the United States, went about rebuilding their lives and living as happily as possible. But they found they could not escape the weight-of the bomb experience. It caused them physical, psychological and financial problems.

 

Tsuyako Munekane, who lives in Los Angeles and is also a Hawaiian-born hibakusha, found that she began to suffer from debilitating, undiagnosed symptoms. She was in such pain that she could not work. There was a ringing sound in her ears. Her face and body grew bloated, and she suffered from general tiredness. One doctor whom she visited accused her of "malingering."' 

 

The experience of individual hibakusha is confirmed by large scale medical studies carried out in Japan.

 

The survivors of the atomic bombings who escaped or recovered from the immediate effects of the blasts  burns, cuts and other injuries as well as radiation caused sicknesses  began to find in the years afterwards that they were plagued by other, more slowly developing diseases. They were especially vulnerable to various types of cancers.

 

Shortly after the bombing, the incidence of leukemia began to rise above the normal rate. In the late 1950's, it was thyroid and lung can¬cer, and in the 1960's and 1970's breast and salivary gland cancer. Recently, cancer of the colon and bone marrow have begun to increase. The authors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, a recent authoritative overview of the entire bomb experience commissioned by the two cities, said that Hit is impossible to forecast when and what kind of disease will appear in the exposed . . ." Thirty seven years after the atomic bomb, some survivors have said, with justification, that a "time bomb" is ticking away inside their bodies.

 

The hibakusha who came to the United States are probably more healthy, on the average, than those who remained in Japan. Even still, a team of Japanese physicians, who examined 166 American survivors in 1981, estimated that one fifth of them had diseases which would qualify for treatment of bomb-related illnesses given in Japan.

 

Their concern about illness was compounded by the threat that insurance policies could be cancelled if it was discovered that they were survivors of the bomb. Insurance policies customarily include a fine print "waiver" clause which exempts the company from responsibility for claims resulting from atomic war. The waivers are most likely directed toward atomic wars of the future (which would probably be a moot point in the case one should happen; there's no reason to believe insurance firms would be spared), but it is not hard to imagine a company slipping through that loophole to escape paying the large sums that serious medical problems can easily require. The survivors worry, too, that they may be dropped as high risk prospects if their radiation exposure is revealed.

 

Some hibakusha are in the worse situation of having no insurance coverage to lose, either because they could not afford it, or because they work in businesses without insurance plans. (Three quarters of the hibakusha are women, and many have the language and cultural handicaps of immigrants. Because of this, although there are no statistics, it seems that quite a few are in livelihoods without health coverage.) They have the terrible vulnerability of any person without health protection.

 

The hibakusha began to pull together to address the many problems they face in common. A group of survivors who lived in Los Angeles began to meet together in 1965, as an informal "friendship circle" of people who shared the same experience. The group grew and, in 1971, was organized as the Committee of Atomic Bomb Survivors (CABS) in the U.S.A. There are now chapters in southern California, northern California, Seattle/Pacific Northwest and Hawaii, as well as local support groups.

 

Since its inception, CABS has focused its efforts on securing health care for its members. The sort of program which survivors in Japan were able to win from their government is what is really needed: free regular examinations and therapy for illnesses which are related to the bombing. CABS' objectives have been more modest, but it has still been a difficult struggle, yet they have been able to win some partial assistance. American survivors who are able to travel to Japan now have quick access to the health cane system there. They have been able to receive a series of free physical examinations, sponsored mostly by the Japanese government, sometimes linked with U.S. medical research projects, and often by the generosity of Japanese American medical and lay volunteers. However, as Kanji Kuramoto, president of CABS, told a congressional committee in 1978: "The issue is whether the American government can assist a small number of American survivors living today." The government has been unwilling.

 

In almost every year since 1972, legislation which would guarantee medical care for the American hibakusha has been introduced in Congress, and each time it has failed to pass. The bill, if enacted, would compensate survivors for medical expenses related to the bomb exposure which were not covered by any other financial sources, such as insurance or health plans. Edward Roybal, the congressman who has sponsored the bill, says he will introduce survivors’ health care legislation again in 1983.

 

Some obstacles to its passage are not hard to discern. In 1976, a California State version of the bill was attempted. Kaz Suyeishi, the southern California CABS Chapter President, explained what happened after all the explanations of the survivors' plight had been presented at a legislative hearing. One of the committee members asked, "Why should we help the former enemy?" One witness testified that there was no such thing as an “American atomic bomb survivor,” they were all "Japanese." 

 

The outlook of the federal government may be reflected in another different, but related case. An estimated quarter million U.S. military personnel were exposed to aboveground nuclear tests in the 1950's and some are now experiencing illnesses which they feel are connected to their bomb exposure. They have attempted to pass legislation for health care and disability benefits, which has been opposed by the Department of Defense. The Department of Defense's lawyers wrote to Congress in 1981, saying that passage of the atomic veterans' bill would be “damaging to every aspect of the Department of Defense's nuclear weapons and nuclear propulsion programs. The legislation could adversely affect our relations with our European allies, (and) impact upon the civilian nuclear power industry…” In other words, aid given to the victims of earlier nuclear blasts would help confirm the dangers of nuclear technology and thus help fuel the disarmament and anti nuke movements.

 

The prospects for the passage of hibakusha health care legislation are mixed. It comes at a time when President Reagan and the Congress are cutting, rather than increasing, spending for human needs. This assures that it will be a continued uphill battle.

 

At same time, however, the disarmament movement, after years of relative dormancy, has suddenly and dramatically revived. Perhaps it is because increasing numbers of people realize that they themselves are potential future victims of the bomb. The public pressure for disarmament has already been reflected in Congress, where attempts have been made to advocate a bilateral weapons freeze. The chances for passage of the hibakusha health care legislation depend to a great extent on how much this public pressure grows and how much of it can be focused in support of the survivors. 

 

But the hibakusha have also had problems with the disarmament movement. They have complained about being treated as symbols, and of being lost in the shuffle of anti nuke activities. These unfortunate incidents almost certainly reflect some not so subtle racist attitudes in the anti nuke movement, which presently is predominantly white. Asians in the nukes movement will have to be ready to struggle with and educate our allies who are working for disarmament.

 

After the Hiroshima/Nagasaki Day commemorations organized by the Asian Americans for Nuclear Disarmament in Los Angeles this summer, Kaz Sueyishi said she was happy with the recent growth in support for the hibakusha; "It's my big dream for 10 years."

 

She also reflected on the changes in community attitude from a few years ago when, "People said don't say anything (about the hibakusha problem) because it's painful and troublesome to the Japanese American community. But now it's different. Japanese Americans are not afraid anymore."