Students attend classes on July 27, 1946 with the ruins of Hiroshima surrounding them. (Bettmann / Getty Images) Students attend classes on July 27, 1946 with the ruins of Hiroshima surrounding them. (Bettmann / Getty Images / Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists)

Before the next nuclear crisis, listen to those who lived through the last one

Originally published: Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists on August 6, 2026 by Renata Hessmann Dalaqua and Rebecca Davis Gibbons (more by Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists)  | (Posted Aug 07, 2026)

The nuclear attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki resulted in the deaths and fatal injuries of more than 210,000 people, who either died instantaneously or within months. In addition to these victims, the hundreds of thousands who survived the bombings had to live with the consequences of radiation exposure, which could also affect their descendants.

Eighty-one years later, nuclear anxiety and fear appear to be rising amid increased levels of armed conflict involving nuclear powers around the world. But the testimonies and perspectives of thousands of people who have been affected by nuclear weapons use and testing remain regrettably absent from media coverage and the public debate.

As many worrying developments are described as “unprecedented,” it becomes critically important to hear from those who have lived through nuclear attacks in Japan as well as nuclear tests in Algeria, Australia, China, French Polynesia, Kazakhstan, Kiribati, India, Pakistan, the Marshall Islands, and the United States, among other places. The stories of nuclear survivors and their perspectives should be enough to remind leaders and the general public not to take nuclear threats lightly.

Remembering and learning from the past. In the aftermath of the atomic bombings in Japan, horrifying, first-hand accounts were featured in John Hersey’s 1946 book, Hiroshima. In his book, Hersey introduces six survivors and shares details of how they experienced the nuclear bombing, including its immediate impacts on their health, such as severe burns and radiation sickness. Initially published in an entire issue of The New Yorker on the first anniversary of the bombings, unannounced and placed behind a cover of a lively park scene with people enjoying various summer activities , the text became an immediate best seller and received great attention from specialized media and the general public, even being read over the radio in various countries.

On August 31, 1946, The New Yorker published John Hersey’s “Hiroshima,” a novelistic account that tells the stories of six survivors of the atomic bomb that was dropped a year earlier on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. The 30,000-word article, which took up the entire magazine issue, had been prepared in secret and published behind an illustrated cover of a park scene (left) to evade wartime restrictions on news coverage from Occupied Japan. In their cover note, editors warned the readers: “The New Yorker this week devotes its entire editorial space to an article on the almost complete obliteration of a city by one atomic bomb, and what happened to the people of that city.” The article became an immediate publishing sensation and classic of literary journalism, being continuously reprinted and serialized all over the world ever since (right). Never out of print, Hersey’s essay remains the first and most influential account of nuclear holocaust. (Charles E Martin/The New Yorker; Alfred Eisenstaedt/The LIFE Picture Collection via Getty Images/Penguin Classics)

On August 31, 1946, The New Yorker published John Hersey’s “Hiroshima,” a novelistic account that tells the stories of six survivors of the atomic bomb that was dropped a year earlier on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. The 30,000-word article, which took up the entire magazine issue, had been prepared in secret and published behind an illustrated cover of a park scene (left) to evade wartime restrictions on news coverage from Occupied Japan. In their cover note, editors warned the readers: “The New Yorker this week devotes its entire editorial space to an article on the almost complete obliteration of a city by one atomic bomb, and what happened to the people of that city.” The article became an immediate publishing sensation and classic of literary journalism, being continuously reprinted and serialized all over the world ever since (right). Never out of print, Hersey’s essay remains the first and most influential account of nuclear holocaust. (Charles E Martin/The New Yorker; Alfred Eisenstaedt/The LIFE Picture Collection via Getty Images/Penguin Classics)

Since then, several books have been written that contain analysis and testimonies from nuclear survivors. The Hiroshima Peace Culture Foundation, for instance, has compiled testimonies by survivors of the nuclear attack.

Akihiro Takahashi is one of the A-bomb survivors offering eyewitness testimony. Takahashi was 14 and a student at a Hiroshima high school. He remembers being blown by the blast and looking up to find that buildings had disappeared:

For a bewildered second I thought, “Hiroshima has vanished!” Coming to my senses, I quickly examined myself. My uniform was burned and tattered. The skin on the back of my head, my back, my arms and legs had peeled like rags, red flash was painfully exposed to the air. … I saw a line of A-bomb survivors looking dazed. … Many were virtually naked. It was exactly like a procession of ghosts.

This was just the beginning of the ordeal.

Nuclear survivors recount their many cancers or the litany of people in their communities who died of cancer or suffered other health problems in the aftermath of the bombing. These personal tragedies have been backed by studies across time of survivors in Japan and elsewhere that demonstrate more elevated incidence of thyroid cancer and other thyroid diseases than the general population, as well as elevated risks of breast, leukemia, stomach, and colon cancers. These impacts disproportionately affect children because their smaller body mass means their internal organs have less tissue shielding them from radiation compared to adults. Many of the health consequences would not manifest for years after exposure, and nuclear survivors have lived with persistent anxiety about transmitting their radiation-induced health issues to the next generations. And not only in Japan.

There are reports of an increase in infant mortality in New Mexico after the Trinity test of July 1945 and in Australia after the United Kingdom’s Maralinga tests in the 1950s. In the Marshall Islands, where the United States conducted 67 nuclear tests between 1946 and 1958, women reportedly suffered miscarriages and gave birth to stillborn babies or “jellyfish babies,” which were infants born with translucent skin and no bones.

For many survivors, pregnancy and labor after radiation exposure took on added psychological stress. As Hiroshima survivor Keiko Ogura recounts:

Before I delivered my baby until the last moment, I was so scared. … Everybody had a hard time. “My baby, my child, is he okay or not?” always mothers are thinking. [With] nuclear weapons stays future fear. Not all casualties are burned or have scars. No, fear. Yes, fear, so deep in our hearts. Everybody had fear.

While there is a need for more scientific research on the generational effects of radiation exposure, many victims believe the illnesses and birth defects in their children and grandchildren are connected to their original exposure. This is the view of Lee Gyuyeo, another survivor of the Hiroshima bombing:

No words can describe the gravity of the aftereffects on the second and third generations, not to mention on us, the first generation of nuclear victims. Our children and grandchildren, the second and third generations of survivors, continue to suffer from unexplained illnesses and are in unspeakable pain.

In addition to health problems, radiation contamination also leads to displacement and environmental deterioration.

In the Marshall Islands, radioactive fallout led to a two-pronged migration pattern, first, from outer islands to the capital, Majuro, and then, with a significant portion of the population relocating to other countries away from radiation and its concomitant harms. Continued displacement led to cultural dislocation and hindered the sense of belonging. As a young Marshallese student living in Fiji observed,

having your land taken away creates a limbo where you don’t know where to identify.

Satellite image of the Runit Dome (in gray), also locally called “The Tomb,” on the Marshall Islands. The dome contains 100,000 cubic yards of radiologically contaminated soil and debris collected from the fallout of the 43 atmospheric nuclear tests conducted at Enewetak Atoll in the Marshall Islands archipelago by the United States between 1946 and 1958. The cleanup operations removed less than one percent of the total estimated radioactive fallout of those tests. The dome, which was completed in 1980, sits on top of the crater created by the “Cactus” 18-kiloton nuclear test of May 6, 1958. The 404-feet-wide crater formed by the “Redwing Lacrosse” 40-kiloton nuclear test of May 5, 1956 is also visible on the image (in blue). (Credit: Airbus / Maxar Technologies, via Google Earth)

Satellite image of the Runit Dome (in gray), also locally called “The Tomb,” on the Marshall Islands. The dome contains 100,000 cubic yards of radiologically contaminated soil and debris collected from the fallout of the 43 atmospheric nuclear tests conducted at Enewetak Atoll in the Marshall Islands archipelago by the United States between 1946 and 1958. The cleanup operations removed less than one percent of the total estimated radioactive fallout of those tests. The dome, which was completed in 1980, sits on top of the crater created by the “Cactus” 18-kiloton nuclear test of May 6, 1958. The 404-feet-wide crater formed by the “Redwing Lacrosse” 40-kiloton nuclear test of May 5, 1956 is also visible on the image (in blue). (Credit: Airbus / Maxar Technologies, via Google Earth)

Satellite image of the Runit Dome (in gray), also locally called “The Tomb,” on the Marshall Islands. The dome contains 100,000 cubic yards of radiologically contaminated soil and debris collected from the fallout of the 43 atmospheric nuclear tests conducted at Enewetak Atoll in the Marshall Islands archipelago by the United States between 1946 and 1958. The cleanup operations removed less than one percent of the total estimated radioactive fallout of those tests. The dome, which was completed in 1980, sits on top of the crater created by the “Cactus” 18-kiloton nuclear test of May 6, 1958. The 404-feet-wide crater formed by the “Redwing Lacrosse” 40-kiloton nuclear test of May 5, 1956 is also visible on the image (in blue). (Credit: Airbus / Maxar Technologies, via Google Earth)

Radioactive fallout from the tests on the Marshall Islands also resulted in environmental contamination that affected local foods and fish stocks. The need to avoid locally produced food and to rely on the consumption of processed products has been associated with diseases among the Marshallese population, including diabetes, hypertension, and obesity. Environmental impacts are further compounded by climate change. Rising sea levels elicit concern about the potential nuclear waste leakage in the Runit Dome, the concrete structure housing contaminated topsoil and radioactive debris on Runit Island.

Acknowledging the past to change the future. Many nuclear survivors feel that relevant governments never truly acknowledged the harm caused by the atomic bombings and nuclear testing programs or the extent of suffering they caused. Without acknowledgement, victims feel not only harmed but almost invisible, as if their experiences, sacrifices, and torments never happened. Media coverage and popular culture still too often glorify nuclear weapons and shirk consequences, adding to the burden carried by survivors.

Several ongoing initiatives by international organizations are trying to shed light on the impacts of nuclear war, including upcoming studies by the World Health Organization and an independent scientific panel established by the UN General Assembly, as well as technical assistance provided by the Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights to the Marshall Islands. Although extremely important, these initiatives remain all but absent from public discourse and media coverage on nuclear weapons.

If new generations do not learn from the suffering and experience of nuclear survivors, they run the risk of seeing history repeat itself. Listening to nuclear survivors, teaching their struggles in schools, and telling their stories to leaders and the public are paramount if the world is to avoid—or at least postpone—the next nuclear catastrophe.


Renata Hessmann Dalaqua is the head of the Integrated Approaches Programme at the United Nations Institute for Disarmament Research (UNIDIR). Before joining UNIDIR, Hessmann Dalaqua worked as deputy director of projects at the Brazilian Center for International Relations and as a Consultant with VERTIC. She holds a PhD in History and Politics from the Vargas Foundation, Brazil and a master’s degree in International Politics and Security from the University College London.

Rebecca Davis Gibbons is an associate professor of political science at the University of Southern Maine. She previously served as a fellow and associate of the Project on Managing the Atom at the Harvard Kennedy School’s Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs. Before joining academia, Davis Gibbons taught elementary school among the Bikini community in the Republic of the Marshall Islands and served as a national security policy analyst at SAIC, providing research and analytical support to the Headquarters Air Force Strategic Stability and Countering WMD Division (AF/A10-S). Davis Gibbons holds a PhD in international relations from Georgetown University. She is the author of The Hegemon’s Tool Kit: U.S. Leadership and the Politics of the Nuclear Nonproliferation Regime (Cornell University Press, 2022).

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