These trees are powerful symbols of man-made destruction and nature’s resilience. Perhaps they can express people’s desire for peace more effectively than we can ourselves.

I was born in the north of England in February 1945, shortly before the end of World War II. Growing up, all the families I knew were affected by the war in some way.

In the 1970s, as part of the Cold War, the United States and the Soviet Union decided to site nuclear weapons in Europe, with the border between East and West Germany the dividing line between the two superpowers. A total of 464 missiles were slated for Western Europe, each one 15 times more lethal than the bomb dropped on Hiroshima, which decimated the city and incinerated thousands of people in an instant. I joined the massive peace movement that sprang up to oppose the terrifying possibility of nuclear war and this appalling waste of resources. 

Years later, I was stunned to learn that several trees growing near the blast center survived the bombing of Hiroshima. When I heard that the Peace Crane Project wanted to get seeds from descendants of these hibakujumoku, A-bomb survivor trees, I was excited to participate. 

These trees are powerful symbols of man-made destruction and nature’s resilience. Perhaps they can express people’s desire for peace more effectively than we can ourselves.