[Speech]Jeong-soon Park Testifies at Virtual Conference Hosted by Pathways To Peace
Jeong-soon Park Testifies at Virtual Conference Hosted by Pathways To Peace
On August 4, 2025, at 10:00 AM ET, Jeong-soon Park, one of the plaintiffs of The A-Bomb Tribunal, gave her testimony during a virtual conference titled "Nuclear Disarmament for Humanitarian Needs: Empowering Individuals and Cities." The event was hosted by Pathways To Peace, a partner organization of The A-Bomb Tribunal.
The video of her speech and the full statement are attached below.
I am honored to give this testimony at this international event for the abolition of nuclear weapons.
My name is Jeong-soon Park, and I am a first-generation Korean atomic bomb victim. I am now 92 years old. I was born in Nagoya, Japan in 1934. I was 12 years old and in the 5th grade of elementary school when the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima in 1945.
My father had moved to Nagoya earlier to work at a factory an acquaintance had introduced him to. In 1932, my mother and the rest of our family followed him to Japan. At the time, due to colonial exploitation by the Japanese Empire, life in Korea was extremely hard. Many families like ours moved to Japan to survive. Many Koreans were also forcibly taken to work in mines and munitions factories under harsh conditions.
As the war intensified, it became difficult for my father to continue working at the factory. In 1943, another acquaintance told him there was a munitions factory in Hiroshima where many Koreans worked and where he would at least be able to afford food. So he moved there first, and our family joined him in May 1945, settling in the Uchikoshicho area—about 2 kilometers from the hypocenter. That neighborhood was a Korean community.
On August 6, 1945, a morning like any other, my father left early for the munitions factory as usual, and my mother was getting ready to go to her job at a restaurant. We children were all at home. The air raid siren sounded, but we were so used to them by then that we didn’t think much of it. Then suddenly, a blinding flash of light struck like lightning. Right after the flash, we heard a massive blast. An enormous boom shook the whole world around us, and in an instant, our house collapsed. The ceiling and pillars came crashing down on us.
Amid the screams and chaos, my mother pulled us children out from under the rubble one by one. I had been hit on the back of my head by a fallen beam, and blood was pouring from the wound. I had also injured my lower back and have lived with back pain ever since. Years later, an X-ray revealed that my spine had been partly dislocated. When we got outside our destroyed house, we saw our neighbors crying and screaming. People were lying on the road—some dead, some injured, some burned and bleeding. Everyone was running in every direction. We managed to get ourselves together and ran with others toward a nearby bamboo grove, where many injured neighbors had gathered. It felt like all of Hiroshima had been destroyed. Almost no one in that grove was unhurt. Even among the bloodshed and pandemonium, there was a slight sense of relief in having survived.
My father immediately began looking for a way to return to Korea. Following delay after delay, we were finally able to board a ship from Shimonoseki, just a few days before Lunar New Year in 1946. It may be hard to imagine just how much fear and hardship we experienced on our journey back on that crude ship. Our family returned to Yesan in South Chungcheong Province, our parents' hometown. We were in dire poverty. At the time, the General Headquarters (GHQ) of the allied powers allowed Koreans to bring back no more than just “1,000 yen.” That was nowhere near enough to secure a home or even to buy food for the winter.
No matter how hard we toiled in the countryside, our efforts were in vain. It was nearly impossible to make a living. I was born and raised in Japan, and so didn't speak any Korean at all. While in Japan we were discriminated against for being Korean, but in our homeland, we were called “Japs” and looked down on. For my sister and me, who didn’t know Korean, life was unbearable—so much so that we seriously considered returning to Japan. Instead, I found a job at a textile factory to support my family. The meager payments from this job, however, prevented me from taking my parents, who were suffering from atomic bomb aftereffects, even once to the hospital.
My mother had been pregnant at the time of the bombing and suffered a stillbirth in March 1946. Afterwards, her health issues persisted. She became immobile, developed digestive problems, and vomited whenever she tried to eat. She often muttered to herself, “It’s all because of the bomb.” My father, too, could no longer work due to the aftereffects. He spent his days in pain and cursing the world, relying on alcohol to get him through the day. If the U.S. had not dropped the atomic bomb, my parents would not have suffered to this extent or died so early. It is heartbreaking and unjust.
Even now, I can’t move without daily acupuncture because of the aftereffects. Not only me but my younger sister also suffered for many years from diseases like bile duct cancer and heart disease. My mother, my father, and all four of us sisters suffered from long-term radiation aftereffects. We couldn’t even mention we had been exposed to the bomb, too afraid of how people would react. Even our children now show symptoms we suspect may be due to the bomb. One of my nephews died after much suffering.
I resent Japan for starting the war. And I deeply resent the U.S. for its barbaric ambition in dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Around 70,000 Koreans were exposed to the bomb, and about 40,000 of them died. The U.S. must be held accountable for this atrocity and must apologize. As a person who has lived through the horrors of nuclear weapons, I want to shout to the world: Ban all nuclear weapons! A nuclear war would mean the end of humanity. I long for peace and believe it is my duty, as a survivor, to help pass on a nuclear-free world to future generations. The use of nuclear weapons in war must be explicitly outlawed and stigmatized.
Now that I’m 92 years old, I’ve lived more than 80 years with the grief, pain, anger, and sorrow of losing my family to the bomb. As I watch our children suffering too from illnesses and mental anguish, I can’t stay silent any longer. The U.S. must acknowledge its responsibility for the suffering of Korean A-bomb victims and their descendants—and issue an apology and compensation. These words are the fulfilling of my final duty to the second and third generations of victims in what few years are left of my life.
That is why I am participating as a plaintiff in the 2026 International People's Tribunal on the Atomic Bombings to demand justice for the U.S.’ illegal atomic bombings in 1945. I sincerely hope that, through this tribunal, our children and the youth of the world will be able to live in a world without war and without nuclear weapons. Please pay attention to the plight of Korean atomic bomb victims. Let us all unite our hearts and build a peaceful world without nuclear weapons. Thank you.
Jeong-soon Park Testifies at Virtual Conference Hosted by Pathways To Peace
On August 4, 2025, at 10:00 AM ET, Jeong-soon Park, one of the plaintiffs of The A-Bomb Tribunal, gave her testimony during a virtual conference titled "Nuclear Disarmament for Humanitarian Needs: Empowering Individuals and Cities." The event was hosted by Pathways To Peace, a partner organization of The A-Bomb Tribunal.
The video of her speech and the full statement are attached below.
I am honored to give this testimony at this international event for the abolition of nuclear weapons.
My name is Jeong-soon Park, and I am a first-generation Korean atomic bomb victim. I am now 92 years old. I was born in Nagoya, Japan in 1934. I was 12 years old and in the 5th grade of elementary school when the atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima in 1945.
My father had moved to Nagoya earlier to work at a factory an acquaintance had introduced him to. In 1932, my mother and the rest of our family followed him to Japan. At the time, due to colonial exploitation by the Japanese Empire, life in Korea was extremely hard. Many families like ours moved to Japan to survive. Many Koreans were also forcibly taken to work in mines and munitions factories under harsh conditions.
As the war intensified, it became difficult for my father to continue working at the factory. In 1943, another acquaintance told him there was a munitions factory in Hiroshima where many Koreans worked and where he would at least be able to afford food. So he moved there first, and our family joined him in May 1945, settling in the Uchikoshicho area—about 2 kilometers from the hypocenter. That neighborhood was a Korean community.
On August 6, 1945, a morning like any other, my father left early for the munitions factory as usual, and my mother was getting ready to go to her job at a restaurant. We children were all at home. The air raid siren sounded, but we were so used to them by then that we didn’t think much of it. Then suddenly, a blinding flash of light struck like lightning. Right after the flash, we heard a massive blast. An enormous boom shook the whole world around us, and in an instant, our house collapsed. The ceiling and pillars came crashing down on us.
Amid the screams and chaos, my mother pulled us children out from under the rubble one by one. I had been hit on the back of my head by a fallen beam, and blood was pouring from the wound. I had also injured my lower back and have lived with back pain ever since. Years later, an X-ray revealed that my spine had been partly dislocated. When we got outside our destroyed house, we saw our neighbors crying and screaming. People were lying on the road—some dead, some injured, some burned and bleeding. Everyone was running in every direction. We managed to get ourselves together and ran with others toward a nearby bamboo grove, where many injured neighbors had gathered. It felt like all of Hiroshima had been destroyed. Almost no one in that grove was unhurt. Even among the bloodshed and pandemonium, there was a slight sense of relief in having survived.
My father immediately began looking for a way to return to Korea. Following delay after delay, we were finally able to board a ship from Shimonoseki, just a few days before Lunar New Year in 1946. It may be hard to imagine just how much fear and hardship we experienced on our journey back on that crude ship. Our family returned to Yesan in South Chungcheong Province, our parents' hometown. We were in dire poverty. At the time, the General Headquarters (GHQ) of the allied powers allowed Koreans to bring back no more than just “1,000 yen.” That was nowhere near enough to secure a home or even to buy food for the winter.
No matter how hard we toiled in the countryside, our efforts were in vain. It was nearly impossible to make a living. I was born and raised in Japan, and so didn't speak any Korean at all. While in Japan we were discriminated against for being Korean, but in our homeland, we were called “Japs” and looked down on. For my sister and me, who didn’t know Korean, life was unbearable—so much so that we seriously considered returning to Japan. Instead, I found a job at a textile factory to support my family. The meager payments from this job, however, prevented me from taking my parents, who were suffering from atomic bomb aftereffects, even once to the hospital.
My mother had been pregnant at the time of the bombing and suffered a stillbirth in March 1946. Afterwards, her health issues persisted. She became immobile, developed digestive problems, and vomited whenever she tried to eat. She often muttered to herself, “It’s all because of the bomb.” My father, too, could no longer work due to the aftereffects. He spent his days in pain and cursing the world, relying on alcohol to get him through the day. If the U.S. had not dropped the atomic bomb, my parents would not have suffered to this extent or died so early. It is heartbreaking and unjust.
Even now, I can’t move without daily acupuncture because of the aftereffects. Not only me but my younger sister also suffered for many years from diseases like bile duct cancer and heart disease. My mother, my father, and all four of us sisters suffered from long-term radiation aftereffects. We couldn’t even mention we had been exposed to the bomb, too afraid of how people would react. Even our children now show symptoms we suspect may be due to the bomb. One of my nephews died after much suffering.
I resent Japan for starting the war. And I deeply resent the U.S. for its barbaric ambition in dropping atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Around 70,000 Koreans were exposed to the bomb, and about 40,000 of them died. The U.S. must be held accountable for this atrocity and must apologize. As a person who has lived through the horrors of nuclear weapons, I want to shout to the world: Ban all nuclear weapons! A nuclear war would mean the end of humanity. I long for peace and believe it is my duty, as a survivor, to help pass on a nuclear-free world to future generations. The use of nuclear weapons in war must be explicitly outlawed and stigmatized.
Now that I’m 92 years old, I’ve lived more than 80 years with the grief, pain, anger, and sorrow of losing my family to the bomb. As I watch our children suffering too from illnesses and mental anguish, I can’t stay silent any longer. The U.S. must acknowledge its responsibility for the suffering of Korean A-bomb victims and their descendants—and issue an apology and compensation. These words are the fulfilling of my final duty to the second and third generations of victims in what few years are left of my life.
That is why I am participating as a plaintiff in the 2026 International People's Tribunal on the Atomic Bombings to demand justice for the U.S.’ illegal atomic bombings in 1945. I sincerely hope that, through this tribunal, our children and the youth of the world will be able to live in a world without war and without nuclear weapons. Please pay attention to the plight of Korean atomic bomb victims. Let us all unite our hearts and build a peaceful world without nuclear weapons. Thank you.