Peace and a reporter's essay

Eighty years ago, in August 1946, The New Yorker did something it had never done before, or since. The entire issue of this magazine included just one essay, by a journalist and author John Hersey. The essay, titled, Hiroshima, was around 31,000 words and described in plain but piercing language the lives of six ordinary Japanese before, during and since the dropping of the atomic bomb a year before in August 1945. All 300,000 copies of the magazine were sold almost immediately. Knopf, which got the rights to publish it in a book form, soon after sold 250,000 copies in a week, which was a record sale at the time. An NBC presenter read the essay live on air from morning till the studio closed at night. In the course of weeks and months since its publication, the essay's impact was felt around the world. BBC produced a full dramatised reading of the essay. The piece reached audiences across the shores in Europe and Japan, but more significantly it reached homes and classrooms, churches and community halls. The New Yorker reported that they had never gotten so many letters from the readers, most of whom were stunned, shocked and saddened. The essay changed what people had believed about the war and victory until then – and it did so by highlighting the lives and suffering of ordinary people. Beyond the burden on the conscience of the readers and the listeners, the essay shaped public opinion and, in turn, policy. Historians believe that the essay played a strong part in public debate and disgust against nuclear weapons that eventually led to treaties on nuclear disarmament. A panel of distinguished judges assembled by the New York University voted the essay as the best piece of American journalism in the 20th century. The book form of the essay has never been out of print and has been translated in dozens of languages. People have written books on the essay. ABC Australia included the book in the list of five most influential books of the 20th century that 'changed us'. The essay is available freely online and I encourage people to read it for themselves and reflect on it. The reason to mention Hersey's essay today is not just our preference for remembrance on neat number anniversaries (80 is better than 79), but also because of the world that we live in. Around the world, and among our midst, it is getting incredibly difficult to report and share. Rigorous reporting is viewed through a particular lens; it is quickly shut down if it tells inconvenient truths, and labels ranging from biased to unpatriotic are instantaneously slapped onto it. Journalists are increasingly unable to even report from their hometowns, or not allowed to travel to a city within their own country. Hersey's essay offers us some insights at this moment. It was not easy in 1945 and 1946 to report from Japan. There was a particular world view that was curated, and from a distance it all seemed fine. But, in fact, it was quite the opposite of fine. We now know that by offering a glimpse into the lives of people who shared little except the bond of humanity with the readers, the essay enabled millions to ask about what kind of a world we want to create. The questions echoed at kitchen tables and in policy circles. By learning about the lives of six people in Hiroshima, people in far-off lands reflected on their lives and their own future. Of course, there was pushback then and some people felt this was sensational, or disrespectful or perhaps even unpatriotic. But in the end, it is safe to say that the impact of the reporting helped in creating a safer world for everyone. Today, perhaps we should read Hersey again, and remind ourselves that if the goal is peace and safety, it often happens by knowing more about others and their suffering, not less. Truth and openness allow for empathy and recognition, darkness and silence do quite the opposite.