"That's why we come to Hiroshima": Mr Obama's Hiroshima speech. - 2016/5/27
オバマ前大統領は広島での演説の中で、71年前に投下された原爆の壊滅的な影響を振り返り、人間の創造と破壊に対する深遠な能力を強調した。 彼は、古代の部族から世界大戦に至るまでの歴史的な紛争の傾向と、より重大な破壊手段につながる人類の進歩の矛盾を強調しました。 オバマ氏は、分断よりも人間性の共有を強調し、私たちのつながりを再考することの重要性を強調した。 同氏は戦後の同盟と核兵器削減の取り組みを称賛し、外交と平和を優先するよう各国に訴えた。 この演説は、広島の教訓を忘れず、平和な未来を目指して努力するという共通の責任を強調した。(English) In his Hiroshima speech, President Obama reflected on the devastating impact of the atomic bomb dropped 71 years prior, emphasizing the profound human capacity for creation and destruction. He highlighted the historical propensity for conflict, from ancient tribes to world wars, and the contradiction of human advancement leading to more significant means of devastation. Obama stressed the importance of reimagining our connections, emphasizing shared humanity over division. He celebrated post-war alliances and efforts to reduce nuclear weapons, urging nations to prioritize diplomacy and peace. The speech underscored the shared responsibility to remember Hiroshima's lessons and strive for a peaceful future.
President Obama's Speech in Hiroshima: Mr Obama's Hiroshima speech. - 2016/5/27
1)
Seventy-one years ago, death fell from the sky on a bright, cloudless morning, and the world was changed. A flash of light and a firewall destroyed a city and demonstrated that humanity has the means to destroy itself.
Why have we come to this place, to Hiroshima? We come to reflect on a terrible force unleashed in a not-so-distant past. We come to mourn the dead, including over 100,000 Japanese men, women and children; thousands of Koreans; a dozen Americans held prisoner. Their souls speak to us. They ask us to look within, to take stock of who we are and what we might become.
2)
It is not the fact of war that distinguishes Hiroshima. Artefacts tell us that violent conflict appeared with the very first humans. Our early ancestors, having learned to make blades from flint and spears from wood, used these tools for hunting and against their kind.
On every continent, the history of civilisation is filled with war, whether driven by scarcity of grain or hunger for gold, compelled by nationalist fervour or religious zeal. Empires have risen and fallen. People have been subjugated and liberated. And at every juncture, innocents have suffered an innumerable toll, their names forgotten by time.
3)
The world war that came to its brutal end in Hiroshima and Nagasaki was fought between the wealthiest and most powerful nations. Their civilisations had given the world great cities and magnificent art. Their thinkers had advanced ideas of justice, harmony and truth.
And yet the war grew out of the same base instinct for domination or conquest that had caused conflict among the simplest tribes, an old pattern amplified by new capabilities and without new constraints. In a few years, some 60 million people would die - men, women, children no different from us, shot, beaten, marched, bombed, imprisoned, starved, gassed.
4)
Many sites worldwide chronicle this war - memorials that tell stories of courage and heroism, graves and empty camps that echo unspeakable depravity. But it is in the image of a mushroom cloud rising into those skies that we are most starkly reminded of humanity's core contradiction; how the very spark that defines us as a species - our thoughts, our imagination, our language, our tool-making, our ability to separate ourselves from nature and bend it to our will - also gives us the capacity for unparalleled destruction.
5)
How often does material progress or social innovation blind us to this truth? How easily can we justify violence in the name of some higher cause? Every great religion promises a path to love, peace, and justice, yet no religion has spared believers who have used their faith as a licence to kill.
Nations are created, telling a story that binds people together in sacrifice and cooperation, enabling remarkable achievements. Still, those same stories have often been used to oppress and dehumanise different people.
Science allows us to communicate across oceans and fly above the clouds; to cure disease and understand the cosmos. But the same discoveries can be turned into ever more efficient killing machines.
6)
The wars of the modern age teach this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth. Technological progress without corresponding progress in human institutions can be our undoing. The scientific revolution that led to atom splitting also requires a moral process.
That is why we have come to this place, Hiroshima. We stand in the middle of this city and force ourselves to imagine when the bomb fell. We push ourselves to feel the fear of children being confused by what they see. We hear a silent cry. We remember all the innocents killed across the arc of this terrible war, the previous wars, and the following ones.
Mere words cannot voice such suffering, but we have a shared responsibility to look history in the eye and ask what we must do differently to prevent such suffering from happening again.
One day, the voices of the Hibakusha will no longer be with us to bear witness. But the memory of the morning of 6 August 1945 must never fade. This memory allows us to fight against complacency. It fuels our moral imagination. It will enable us to change.
7)
And since that fateful day, we have made choices that give us hope. The United States and Japan forged an alliance and a friendship that has given our people far more than we could ever claim from war. The nations of Europe built a union that replaced battlefields with the bonds of trade and democracy.
Oppressed peoples and nations won their freedom. An international community established institutions and treaties that worked to avoid war and to limit, roll back and ultimately eliminate the existence of nuclear weapons.
Yet every act of aggression between nations, terror and corruption and cruelty and oppression we see worldwide shows that our work is never done. We may not be able to eliminate man's capacity for evil, so nations - and the alliances we've formed - must have the means to defend themselves.
But for those nations, like my own, that have nuclear stockpiles, we must have the courage to escape the logic of fear and seek a world without them.
8)
We may not achieve this goal in my lifetime. But with persistent effort, we 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 keep deadly materials out of the hands of fanatics.
But that is not enough, for we see worldwide how even the crudest rifles and barrel bombs can be used for violence on a terrible scale.
We must change the way we think about war itself -- to prevent conflict through diplomacy and to seek to end conflict once it's begun; to see our growing interdependence as a cause for peaceful cooperation, not violent competition; to define our nations not by our capacity to destroy, but by what we build.
9)
And perhaps most of all, we need to reimagine our connection to each other as members of one human race. That, 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 readily accepted.
We see these stories in the Hibakusha -- the woman who forgave a pilot who flew the plane that dropped the atomic bomb because she realised that what she hated was war itself; the woman who sought out the families of Americans killed here because he believed that their loss was equal to his own.
10)
How often does material progress or social innovation blind us to this truth? How easily can we justify violence in the name of some higher cause? Every great religion promises a way to love, peace, and justice, yet no religion has spared believers who have used their faith as a licence to kill.
Nations are created, telling a story that binds people together in sacrifice and cooperation, enabling remarkable achievements. Still, those same stories have often been used to oppress and dehumanise different people.
Science allows us to communicate across oceans and fly above the clouds; to cure disease and understand the cosmos. But the same discoveries can be turned into ever more efficient killing machines.
11)
The wars of modern times teach this truth. Hiroshima teaches this truth. Technological progress without a corresponding improvement in human institutions can doom us. The scientific revolution that led to atom splitting also requires a moral process.
That is why we have come to this place, Hiroshima. We stand in the middle of this city and force ourselves to imagine when the bomb fell. We push ourselves to feel the fear of children being confused by what they see. We hear a silent cry. We remember all the innocents killed across the arc of this terrible war, the previous wars, and the following ones.
Mere words cannot give voice to such suffering. Still, we have a shared responsibility to look directly into the eye of history and ask what we must do differently to prevent such suffering from happening again. One day, the voices of the hibakusha will no longer be with us to bear witness.
But the memory of the morning of 6 August 1945 must never fade. This memory allows us to fight against complacency. It fuels our moral imagination. It will enable us to change.
12)
And since that fateful day, we have made choices that give us hope. The United States and Japan forged an alliance and a friendship that has given our people far more than we could ever claim from war.
The nations of Europe built a union that replaced battlefields with the bonds of trade and democracy. Oppressed peoples and nations won their freedom. An international community created institutions and treaties that worked to avoid war and to limit, roll back and ultimately eliminate the existence of nuclear weapons.
13)
Yet every act of aggression between nations, every act of terror and corruption and cruelty and oppression that we see around the world, shows that our work is never done.
We may not be able to eliminate man's capacity for evil, so nations - and the alliances we've formed - must have the means to defend themselves. But for those nations, like my own, that have nuclear stockpiles, we must have the courage to escape the logic of fear and seek a world without them.
We may not achieve this goal in my lifetime. But with persistent effort, we 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 keep deadly materials out of the hands of fanatics.
14)
But that is not enough. We must change the way we think about war itself -- to use diplomacy to prevent conflict and to work to end it once it's begun; to see our growing interdependence as a cause for peaceful cooperation, 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. This 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 readily accepted.
15)
We see these stories in the Hibakusha – the woman who forgave a pilot who flew the plane that dropped the atomic bomb because she recognized that what she hated was war itself; the woman who sought out families of Americans killed here because he believed their loss was equal to his own.
16)
My nation's story began with simple words: all men are created equal, and our Creator endows them with certain unalienable Rights; among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.
Realizing this ideal has never been easy, even within our borders and even among our citizens, but staying true to this story is worth the effort.
17)
It is an ideal to aspire to, an ideal that spans continents and oceans: the fundamental value of every human being, 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 we all have to tell.
That is why we come to Hiroshima to think of people we love the first smile of our chilly children in the morning, the gentle touch of a spouse across the kitchen table, and the comforting embrace of a parent.
18)
We can think of those things and know that those precious moments occurred 71 years ago; those who died are like us; ordinary people understand that.
I think they do not want more war; they would rather see the wonders of science focused on improving life, not eliminating it, if the choices made by nations if the choices made by leaders reflect that simple wisdom.
19)
The world was changed forever here, but today the children of that city will go through their day in peace; what a precious thing worth protecting and extending to every child; that is the future.
We can choose a lot whether Hiroshima and Nagasaki or not. These places are not the beginning of nuclear warfare but the beginning of our moral awakening.
"That's why we come to Hiroshima": Mr Obama's Hiroshima speech.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c32_LCVdjzc
On May 27, 2016, US President Barack Obama visited Peace Memorial Park in Hiroshima City, laid wreaths at the Atomic Bomb Cenotaph with Prime Minister Shinzo Abe, and observed a moment of silence. He spoke in front of Sunao Tsuboi (91), a representative member of the Japan Council of Atomic and Hydrogen Bomb Victims Organizations (Nihon Hidankyo). We will deliver the historic "Hiroshima Speech" (17 minutes 18 seconds) uncut.
President Obama's Speech in Hiroshima ~Full text in English, Japanese translation and commentary~
https://english-learninghelp.com/obama_speech_hiroshima/
Faure Requiem op 48, Seiji OzawaSeiji Ozawa Hiroshima Peace concert
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zqch8YP7b7w
Gabriel Faure's Requiem Op. 48 Complete (Best Recording)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnilUPXmipM&t=272s
Gabriel Faure,1845-1924 - Requiem Op.48
https://classic-info.net/faure-requiem/