News from armed conflicts pings across the globe in seconds, creating the illusion that the only important events are those happening now. Everything pre-internet has receded from our national collective memory. If history itself seems distant, then its study seems even more so. Politicians debate which history should be taught. Colleges are cutting humanities degree programs. Despite those dismal indicators, we have hope that history will not be forgotten.

Saturday marked the 78th anniversary of the end of World War II on Sept. 2, 1945. We are encouraged that more than a million tourists annually visit the Pearl Harbor National Memorial. They pause to read a plaque engraved “remember, understand, and honor.” Visitors seem enthralled by the place where bullet holes still gape in the windows and 2,403 people lost their lives.

Often, there is a line to climb aboard the USS Missouri, the spot where Japan surrendered, ending World War II. There, a framed replica of a flag flown by U.S. Commodore Matthew Perry in Japan in 1853 symbolizes the relationship between the two countries restored in 1945. Since the ship became a memorial in 1998, more than 10 million people have had the opportunity to view that flag and contemplate the countries’ reconciliation.

Recently, we softly touched misshapen World War II shrapnel, scooped from the front yard of Pearl Harbor attack eyewitness Dorinda Nicholson. At age 87, Nicholson’s story of survival and peace are the driving forces of her life. Now a prolific author, Nicholson — then age 6 — and her father stood in their driveway watching in awe as the Dec. 7, 1941, Japanese bombers made their way to Pearl Harbor. She speaks at schools, gently insisting that students fold origami cranes, themselves a symbol of love and hope. She introduced us to another Pearl Harbor eyewitness, a 103-year-old woman who still lives in the same Pearl City home as she did on that fateful 1941 day. They spoke of the fear and uncertainty, vividly bringing the attack to life. Their lived experience of war is now perpetuated in us.

We know — as so many movie fans do — that during the attack on Pearl Harbor, American pilots George Welch and Kenneth Taylor got airborne. Other stories are less well known, like that of Philip M. Rasmussen, a second lieutenant in the U.S. Army Air Corps who got into the air still in his silk pajamas as Japanese planes attacked Hawaii. This history speaks to our national character. It provides the light of heroism and hope in a world still darkened by war and terror today.

Recently, we visited a small, air-conditioned oasis next to the Pacific Aviation Museum on Ford Island, honoring a man named Hope: England-born Bob Hope, who first became an iconic American performer in the 1930s. Known as the one-man morale machine, Hope entertained U.S. troops serving in the farthest reaches of the world. His story represents the premise that anyone can find ways to contribute to the security of our country and its spirit.

If it is truly the internet that makes history seem so distant, then it is this same internet that can breathe new life into our understanding of war. It is there that we can most easily read U.S. Gen. Douglas MacArthur’s words spoken Sept. 2, 1945, on the USS Missouri, pointing to a world dedicated to the dignity of mankind and the fulfillment of our most cherished wish for freedom, tolerance and justice.

The war in Ukraine has made these words ever more relevant. MacArthur expressed hope that we will remember, understand and honor the memory of our nation’s sacrifice. Studying history means seeing its relevance in our lives today.

Micah Tokita, born and raised in Pearl City, is a junior studying history at the University of Hawaii; Stephen Teves is a Hawaii-based attorney and amateur historian.