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Book Review: Hiroshima Nagasaki

By Richard Frank
2/14/2017 • World War II Magazine

HIROSHIMA NAGASAKI: The Real Story of the Atomic Bombings and Their Aftermath

By Paul Ham. 640 pp. St. Martin’s, 2014. $35.

Sometimes revisionist history is a revelation; sometimes it’s mere sensationalism. Unfortunately, this book is largely the latter. In essence, it argues that if Allied leaders had abandoned the “populist slogan” of “unconditional surrender” and simply promised to leave the emperor in power, Japan would have surrendered without nuclear devastation. This breathtaking—and demonstrably false—assertion sits atop “scholarship” that collapses like a house of cards.

Problems infest Hiroshima Nagasaki at every level of its presentation. Start with fundamentals. Ham declares that “at least 100,000” civilians died in Dresden. His numbers come from David Irving’s 50-year-old The Destruction of Dresden, whose highly inflated claims historians have long since demolished; the actual toll was closer to 25,000. Ham also asserts that by “early July 1945” the plan to invade Japan had been “set aside, if not yet completely cancel[ed]”—directly contradicting a passage he cites from my book Downfall. Even worse, Ham uses this “fact” to portray American leaders as duplicitous for later stating that they sought to avoid an invasion by dropping atomic bombs. Any Pacific War historian can assemble a devastating list of other examples.

Let’s move on to the two most conspicuous errors in Ham’s central thesis. “Unconditional surrender” hardly constituted a mere “populist slogan”; by 1945, it represented the indispensable legal foundation for reforming occupied Japan. Without it, the carefully engineered transition of the country from military dictatorship under the emperor’s aegis to democracy would have had to be sharply abridged or abandoned, leading to a very different postwar Japan.

Equally important, Japanese sources demonstrate that, prior to Hiroshima, Japan’s leaders not only never agreed to surrender, but never even agreed on the terms necessary to end the war. Their only authentic diplomatic initiative was to order Japan’s ambassador in Moscow, Sato Naotake, to seek Soviet mediation for a negotiated peace—an effort Sato relentlessly dissected as ineffectual. Sato repeatedly advised Foreign Minister Togo Shigenori that to be credible Japan’s initiative must incorporate specific terms for ending the war; Togo could not provide them because the Japanese government never identified them. Finally, when an exasperated Sato wired that the best terms Japan could obtain would be unconditional surrender with the sole reservation of preserving the imperial institution, Togo, in the name of the government, emphatically rejected the proposal.

Not that any of this deters Ham. By a process more like alchemy than historical inquiry, he transforms statements like Togo’s into “proof” that Japan would accept unconditional surrender in exchange for an American promise to retain the emperor. In reality, Japan’s leaders adamantly demanded that the old order retain substantive power. The best example comes with Japan’s first genuine message proposing to end the war: It declared that Japan would accede to the Allied terms in the July 1945 Potsdam Declaration “with the understanding that the said declaration does not comprise any demand which prejudices the prerogatives of His Majesty as Sovereign Ruler.” As both Japanese and American scholars have emphasized, this meant the emperor would have supremacy over the occupation commander and veto power over any occupation reform.

Quite possibly the most repugnant aspect of Ham’s work, however, is its moral hierarchy of victim-hood. War is hell, and the Pacific War embodied many of World War II’s most hellish aspects. But Ham individualizes Japanese suffering from atomic bombs in moving detail, while there is no remotely comparable treatment for Japan’s victims—even though for every Japanese noncombatant dead of all causes, including conventional or atomic bombing, about 18 noncombatants of other nations perished.

The one exception to Ham’s asymmetry of suffering is his silence on the huge death toll of Japanese in Soviet captivity—at least 62,000 helpless POWs and 180,000 civilians, totals which may equal or exceed the tolls from the atomic bombs. Why don’t these figures appear in Hiroshima Nagasaki? Perhaps because, like the many complexities and moral challenges at the close of the Pacific War that Ham ignores or distorts, they don’t support a narrative strong on emotion and weak on fact.

Serious revisionist history challenges accepted ideas to advance our understanding by pointing to new data or reconsidering flawed interpretations. Ham does neither credibly.

 

Originally published in the October 2014 issue of World War II. To subscribe, click here.

One Response to Book Review: Hiroshima Nagasaki

  1. Paul Ham says:

    I’ve just gotten around to reading Richard Frank’s splenetic review
    of my book Hiroshima Nagasaki and, while one shouldn’t reply to reviews,
    I feel inclined to do so because I respect some of his work (if not his
    dated book Downfall, the conclusions of which simply no longer stand up
    to scrutiny).

    I must say I’m struck by the apparent
    anger and personal tone of Frank’s review (I’ve never met him),
    suggesting that he protests too much, and feels moved to try to
    snuff out irritating truths raised in my book that utterly confound his
    conviction that the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were
    absolutely necessary, and the decisive factor in ending the war.

    Firstly, the atomic bomb did not obviate a US invasion of Japan because it was
    never a case of ‘either drop the bomb or invade Japan’. Truman had
    shelved the invasion plan in early July 1945, two weeks before the bomb
    was tested, because he did not want to risk a string of Okinawas by
    needlessly attacking a defeated nation. Note, I use the word ‘shelved’.

    After the war, the Truman government retroactively justified the use of the atomic bomb
    on the grounds that it saved ‘up to a million’ American lives, which it believed
    would’ve been lost in a land invasion (forgetting that the total combat force
    earmarked for a possible invasion was 750,000 and the projected total
    losses were between 31,000 and about 80,000). In other words,
    the US government rewrote the facts to justify the use of the bomb to the
    American public, a rewrite Frank clearly subscribes to, making him the ‘revisionist’.

    Secondly, the Japanese surrendered primarily because the US granted them the right to
    choose their government – and by implication the continuation of the
    Imperial Dynasty – as laid out in the Byrnes Note sent by Secretary of
    State James Byrnes on 11th August 1945, two days after Nagasaki. I agree
    with Frank that up that point Tokyo was determined to fight on and on
    and would never surrender, not to atomic bombs or an invasion, unless the
    US met their one remaining condition: the life of their beloved Emperor.
    The Byrnes Note effectively did this.

    Tokyo also surrendered in response to the Russian invasion of
    Japanese-occupied Manchuria, which hit Japan where it hurt: on the battlefield.

    The atomic bombs were a terrible blow to Japanese civilians. But not one to which
    Tokyo’s three hardline rulers, who held most influence over the Big Six who ruled Japan,
    considered worthy of a response. They pledged to keep fighting, even after Nagasaki.
    The Japanese had already lost about 66 cities to ‘conventional bombardment’, and
    two more were not going to dissuade them from fighting on for Hirohito.

    Frank’s comments about my discussion of casualties, which he finds ‘repugnant’,
    is frankly bizarre (pun intended). My book is about the atomic bomb, not the rest of the
    Pacific War, of which I have written extensively elsewhere (eg ‘Sandakan’ & ‘Kokoda’).

    Finally, my book fully concurs completely with the conclusions of Professors
    Tsuyoshi Hasegawa and Gar Alperovitz – although I hope it provides some
    additional detail and clarity that advances our understanding, and renders
    comprehensible to ordinary readers the decision to launch the atomic bomb.

    For a quick summary of Prof. Hasegawa’s views, here he is
    debating the end of the Pacific War with Richard Frank on ABC TV in Australia:

    http://www.abc.net.au/lateline/content/2015/s4287858.htm

    My book agrees with Hasegawa’s central points. So by accusing me of ‘alchemy’,
    Frank is, by extension, accusing Japan’s foremost authority on the bomb
    of ‘alchemy’. Yet oddly Frank doesn’t attack the Japanese historian – with whom he only
    ‘respectfully disagrees’ – with the vehemence with which he
    has attacked me. Perhaps being on public television restrained him? Or
    perhaps Frank’s anger rises in inverse relation to the extent to which he
    finds his own theories debunked?

    – Paul Ham

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