Blogg: Vi måste förhindra det som inte kan botas

Opening Plenary Speech – IPPNW World Congress, Nagasaki
October 2, 2025 

Ladies and gentlemen, esteemed colleagues, and honored guests,
It is a great privilege to stand before you today.

We gather in this city of memory and resilience—as physicians, scholars, and advocates—united by our unwavering dedication to peace. Not a passive peace, but one rooted in justice, evidence, and collective responsibility. A peace that demands courage. Nagasaki is not just a place on the map. It is a moral compass. Eighty years ago, this city bore witness to the catastrophic consequences of nuclear war. Today, it calls us to conscience. It reminds us that silence is complicity, and that remembrance must be paired with action.

In 1985, IPPNW was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for ”spreading authoritative information and creating awareness of the catastrophic consequences of nuclear war.” That recognition was not just for scientific rigor—it was for moral clarity. It affirmed the power of evidence-based policymaking, of using science to serve humanity, and of placing people—not power—at the center of the debate.

Today, in 2025, the Doomsday Clock stands at 89 seconds to midnight—the closest humanity has ever been to self-annihilation. Just three decades ago, it was 17 minutes. What happened?

When the Cold War ended in 1991, the world sighed in relief. The prevailing thought was that, in a world no longer bipolar, nuclear weapons would lose their purpose. The superpowers would disarm, and peace would follow. It was a moment of hope—a belief that reduced tensions would lead to dialogue and disarmament. But nuclear disarmament did not happen. The iron curtain fell, but the arsenals remained. Why?

Simply put, nuclear weapons had become a status symbol. After decades of propaganda equating them with prestige, those possessing them had a vested interest in keeping them. Nukes became the currency of power. And this did not change when the superpowers lost their primary reason to threaten each other. The world failed to unequivocally condemn nuclear weapons, and instead of ushering in peace, they poisoned international relations, emboldened aggression, and undermined global security.

Today, nine nuclear weapon states exist—not in isolation, but as reflections of global power dynamics. Their treasured nuclear status relies on a system of norms and values that reward possession. Nuclear weapons are valued because a system—nuclearism—makes them valuable. In medical terms, nuclearism is a generalized disease, and nuclear weapon states are but local symptoms. To cure this disease, we must treat the underlying cause—not just the symptoms. The treatment must be systemic.

To eliminate the menace, we must not only fight for disarmament—we must tackle nuclearism. We must unequivocally condemn nuclear weapons. In the words of Setsuko Thurlow, nuclear weapons are not a necessary evil—they are the ultimate evil. Security lies not in their possession, but in their abolition.

Abolition requires stigmatization. Stripping nuclear weapons of their perceived value is essential. This is how humanity has changed other behaviors—like slavery—and abolished other weapons of mass destruction. Today, no country boasts of being a chemical weapons power. No nation proudly includes biological weapons in its security doctrine. What was once acceptable is now unthinkable. We will rid the world of nuclear weapons when they are universally condemned—when nuclear status is not a badge of honor, but a mark of shame.

De-escalation also requires stigmatization. For children to stop playing “chicken,” one must be mature enough to recognize the danger. This was the case with the famous “Reagan reversal.” Ronald Reagan, once hawkish, came to an agreement with Mikhail Gorbachev at the Geneva Summit in 1985, declaring that “a nuclear war cannot be won and must never be fought.”

That change of heart was not spontaneous. It was the result of tireless campaigns raising awareness of the humanitarian impact of nuclear weapons—campaigns that permeated every layer of society. The risk was high, and everyone knew it. But awareness alone is not enough. The abolition of other weapons of mass destruction was achieved through a dual process: the humanitarian impact provided the compelling reason—the “why”—and prohibition provided the path—the “how.” Normative change followed. Legal and moral pressure became universal, even among countries that hadn’t signed the respective treaties.

This is the power of stigmatization. This is the path to abolition.

Today, many experts warn that the risk of nuclear war is at its highest in history. The erosion of the rule of law, the climate crisis, and the unpredictable influence of emerging technologies have created a volatile and dangerous reality.

We have witnessed the devastation of nuclear weapons in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Their consequences are catastrophic, long-lasting, and profoundly inhumane. But a full-scale nuclear war would be existential. Beyond the immediate loss of tens of millions of lives and ecological destruction, such a war would bring global radiation exposure, collapse the ozone layer, and trigger a nuclear winter lasting years. Many species, including our own, could face extinction. No country could ever prepare for such an event. There is no coming back from nuclear war.

It is our duty to redefine security in service of people. We must challenge the notion that security can be measured in military expenditures while neglecting public health, education, and humanitarian aid. True security is found in strong institutions, equitable healthcare systems, and resilient communities built on cooperation—not conflict.

The role of physicians in peace is essential. As healers, scientists, and protectors of life, it is our duty to ensure that the dangers of war—especially the existential threat of nuclear annihilation—are fully understood. We must prevent what we cannot cure.

And we must remember: empathy and compassion are human nature.

In her book Life Undercover, Amaryllis Fox recounts witnessing former combatants—sworn mortal enemies—laughing and sharing a drink simply because their circumstances had changed. Somehow, they had moved beyond their grievances and recognized humanity in each other. She describes this as the lifting of a “fairytale curse”—one that dehumanizes opponents and leads to atrocities. Once that dehumanization is stripped away, people can collaborate. They realize that, at the core, they are not so different. That, ultimately, they are in the same boat. What does this mean for nuclear abolition?

Nuclear deterrence relies on the belief that human nature is prone to violence—that people require a massive threat to keep them from fighting. Ursula von der Leyen’s doctrine of “peace through strength” operates under this assumption. And under this logic, nuclear disarmament is impossible—because nuclear weapons will always be necessary. But what if we assume instead that people truly seek peace—even if they don’t always realize it? That humans aren’t necessarily prone to war and violence? In that case, nuclear abolition is not only possible—it is the logical path forward.

Si vis pacem, para bellum—“If you want peace, prepare for war.” This phrase has guided military doctrine for centuries. Yet history has shown that militarization fuels conflict, not peace. Militarization breeds escalation. Escalation leads to war.

Peace cannot be sustained through intimidation. It is not simply the absence of war, or even the absence of conflict. Peace demands the non-violent resolution of conflict, achieved through tireless diplomatic efforts. It requires building bridges, forging agreements, and creating opportunities for cooperation. It requires justice, equality, and the rule of law. Simply put, peace is an ongoing effort to lift the fairytale curse of “othering.”

If we genuinely desire peace, the correct approach must be: Si vis pacem, para pacem—“If you want peace, prepare for peace.” This means grounding policies in evidence—using science and technology to benefit humanity. It means learning from history. It means strengthening the rule of law—ensuring that international agreements, humanitarian codes, and treaties designed to protect civilians are upheld without compromise.

So, as we roll up our sleeves and take on the challenge ahead, let us approach nuclear abolition not with cynicism, but with courage. Not with resignation, but with resolve. Let us open minds, challenge entrenched narratives of nuclearism, and break free from the dehumanization trap that sustains violence.

Let this congress be more than a meeting—let it be a movement. A space for strategy, solidarity, and bold action. Let us reaffirm our role as physicians—not only healers of individuals, but healers of societies.

Let us be optimistic—not because the path is easy, but because history is shaped by those who believe change is possible. Peace is possible. Nuclear abolition is possible. But possibility alone is not enough. It demands effort. It demands unity. It demands us.

So let us act—guided by science, hope, and a deep faith in humanity.
Let us speak truth to power. Let us reject the rule of might and affirm the rule of law. Let us lift the curse of “othering” and replace it with the promise of shared humanity. Let us prepare for peace. And let us do so with urgency, with clarity, and with hope.

Because the clock is ticking.
And the world is watching.

Thank you.