On the anniversary of the abominable, morally reprehensible, inhumane act that was the dropping of the atomic bomb on Hiroshima on 1945, there has hardly been any outpouring of indignation about the dubious nature of the decision to vaporise tens of thousands of civilians, which might not be surprising given the long period of time that has elapsed but given the magnitude of torment suffered by its victims alone should be warranted. Oceans of ink have already been spilled about the callous and gratuitous way in which the Americans initiated the horror that heralded the start of the nuclear era. In a way, the Americans were the first and most prolific users of the famed 'Weapons of Mass Destruction', atomic, chemical or otherwise, that which they are attempting to make their own exclusive preserve through the crackdown of terrorists partaking in the piece of the pie while pushing ahead with the development of tactical nuclear weapons. But discussion of the events of 6 August 1945 have never been as much about US military strategy as they have been about the humanitarian catastrophe, and ultimately, the extent of the evil that may be perpetuated by man against other man. Crimes against humanity had already been abound since time immemorial, but the singular image that reminds us of the depths of depravity that we have plumbed has always been, barring another, more cataclysmic event, is the mushroom cloud, a riot of red, white, orange reaching into the skies, a fleeting, towering monument for our much more enduring wickedness. Much later, the landscapes replete with shattered buildings and debris demonstrated to us the sheer force that had been unleashed upon the citizens of Hiroshima.

The question on everyone's mind then, was how could anyone do anything so terrible to fellow human beings? Surely there was some sort of empathy or bond that governed human acts. Whilst the event itself has in more recent times become more and more politicised, that question still remains, pertinent, as it had always been, as events continually reiterate the urgent need to somehow answer that question. It may be put forth as the premise that, if once we admit, be it for a single hour or in a single instance, that there can be anything more important than compassion for a fellow human being, then there is no crime against man that we cannot commit with an easy conscience. Then, men become more impervious to any feeling of pity and humanity as a paved road is to rain. It might be necessary to pave a road with tar, but it is also sad to see the earth made barren when grass, corn, or trees could have been growing atop it. The American resolve might have been steeled by, even made requisite on, the grounds of so-called morality, or simple revenge. History might show that the bombings were vital towards ensuring a swift victory, if four years and millions of lives may be called swift, but it is always frightening to think towards the malevolence that people are capable of drawing upon when called to, and even more so that they think it as natural as the rain itself, and that such shows no signs of abating, and perhaps becoming even more prevalent.