On August 29, 2025, the world paused to mark both a somber milestone and an urgent warning: the nuclear threat, once thought to have receded with the end of the Cold War, is now as grave as ever. As the 80th anniversary of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki passes, the global community confronts a stark reality—an estimated 12,241 nuclear warheads remain worldwide, arms control agreements are unraveling, and the legacy of nuclear devastation continues to haunt countless communities from Asia to Africa.
According to The Seattle Times, this summer not only commemorates the end of World War II but also shines a light on the rarely acknowledged victims of the Atomic Age. While the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki have long been etched into the world’s collective memory, the suffering of tens of thousands of Koreans—forced laborers under Japanese colonial rule—remains largely unrecognized. Approximately 70,000 Koreans were victims of the atomic bombings, with about 30,000 surviving the initial blasts. The United States government has never acknowledged, apologized to, or compensated these Korean victims, despite ongoing pleas from survivors and their descendants.
One such survivor, Park Jeong-soon, now 92, will serve as a plaintiff in the 2026 International Peoples Tribunal on the 1945 Atomic Bombings in New York City. The city of Hapcheon, South Korea, sometimes called the "Hiroshima of Korea," is home to many of these survivors and their families. Their stories are not only a testament to the enduring trauma of nuclear warfare but also a call to action for justice and recognition. As The Seattle Times notes, atomic bomb survivors and their descendants face significantly higher risks of cancers, particularly thyroid cancer and leukemia, compared to the general population—a grim inheritance that continues to this day.
The legacy of nuclear devastation extends far beyond Japan and Korea. At a recent session of the Korean National Assembly, representatives from nuclear-impacted communities across the globe—including the Navajo Nation, the Marshall Islands, French Polynesia, Kazakhstan, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo—testified about the intergenerational effects of radiation exposure and what many have termed “nuclear colonialism.” The testimony of Congolese victims, in particular, sheds light on a little-discussed chapter of nuclear history: the Shinkolobwe uranium mine in the Belgian-colonized Congo supplied the Manhattan Project with some of the world’s purest radioactive ore, extracted by forced laborers with no safety protections. Birth defects and severe illnesses still afflict communities near the mine, and, as the report makes clear, the United States has historically tried to distance itself from this legacy by claiming its uranium came from Canada.
Meanwhile, the world’s nuclear landscape is growing more precarious. As of August 2025, the New START treaty—the last remaining arms control agreement between the United States and Russia—remains suspended and is set to expire in February 2026, with no successor in sight. The Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces (INF) Treaty is defunct, the Open Skies Treaty has been abandoned, and the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty has yet to enter into force. According to The Seattle Times, the U.S. government has not even appointed a negotiator or started formal talks to replace New START, despite the fact that Washington state alone hosts over 1,000 deployed nuclear weapons. Only two lawmakers from the state, U.S. Representatives Pramila Jayapal and Adam Smith, have signed on to H.Res 100, expressing alarm at the looming expiration of the treaty.
Yet, the threat is not just about numbers or treaties. As highlighted in The Guardian, around 2,100 nuclear weapons remain on short-notice alert worldwide, meaning leaders may have only minutes to decide whether to unleash them. This hair-trigger posture, especially in an era of rising geopolitical volatility and growing reliance on artificial intelligence in military technologies, amplifies the risk of accidental or unauthorized launches. "Human survival should not rest on a rushed decision made in mere moments," the article warns, urging immediate de-alerting of these weapons as a near-term risk reduction step.
Few countries understand the human cost of nuclear weapons as intimately as Kazakhstan. From 1949 to 1989, more than 450 nuclear tests were conducted at the Semipalatinsk test site, exposing over a million people to radiation. The consequences—cancers, birth defects, environmental destruction, and intergenerational trauma—are still felt today. As one Kazakh activist and artist, born without arms due to radiation exposure, recounted in The Guardian: "My own life is a testimony to the human price paid for so-called ‘national security.’"
Since gaining independence, Kazakhstan has charted a different course. The country voluntarily relinquished the world’s fourth-largest nuclear arsenal, permanently shut down the Semipalatinsk site, and helped establish an international low enriched uranium bank with the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) to provide a global backstop against nuclear fuel crises. Notably, Kazakhstan is now preparing to build its first nuclear power plant, underscoring a crucial distinction: "Our country is not against nuclear energy, which can be harnessed peacefully to meet the growing demand for electricity and reduce carbon emissions. But nuclear weapons are a different matter entirely—they do not light homes, they only destroy them."
It was Kazakhstan’s initiative that led the United Nations to proclaim August 29—the date the Semipalatinsk Polygon was officially closed—as the International Day against Nuclear Tests. This day is not just a remembrance of past suffering but a call for concrete action. As The Guardian outlines, the international community can take several steps to reduce nuclear risks: de-alerting weapons, reaffirming moratoriums on nuclear testing, embracing the humanitarian principles of the Treaty on the Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons, preventing the weaponization of outer space, and ensuring that decisions on nuclear use are never delegated to artificial intelligence.
Yet, as arms control frameworks collapse and governments, particularly in the United States, plan to spend over $1.7 trillion on new nuclear weapons over the next three decades, the vision of a world free of nuclear weapons seems ever more distant. But the voices of survivors and affected communities, from Hapcheon to Semey to the Congo, insist that forgetting is the greatest danger of all. "Each August 29, we should not only mark the International Day against Nuclear Tests but also commit to education and remembrance. Every schoolchild should know what happened at Semey, at Hiroshima and Nagasaki, at Bikini Atoll. Only when the world remembers our suffering will it choose never to repeat it," the Kazakh activist urged.
Kazakhstan’s decision to renounce its nuclear arsenal and the ongoing struggle for justice by survivors worldwide serve as reminders that the nuclear threat is not just a matter of geopolitics or deterrence, but a lived reality for millions. Whether the world finds the courage to act remains an open question, but the cost of inaction is written in the bodies and histories of those who have already paid the price.
