Wednesday, August 07, 2024

The Nuclear Now

How can I save my little boy
 from Oppenheimer's deadly toy?
There is no monopoly on common sense
On either side of the political fence

 We share the same biology, regardless of ideology
 Believe me when I say to you
 I hope the Russians love their children too.

 There is no historical precedent
 To put the words in the mouth of the president. 
There's no such thing as a winnable war
 It's a lie we don't believe anymore
 Mister Reagan says, "We will protect you" 
I don't subscribe to this point of view
 Believe me when I say to you
 I hope the Russians love their children too.

--from "Russians"
a song by Sting

In her deeply researched 2024 book on the subject, author Annie Jacobsen posited a plausible present or near future scenario in which North Korea detonates a one megaton bomb at the Pentagon, that kills one million people.  The subsequent war—which lasts for all of 72 minutes—slaughters at least 2 billion people. The effects of nuclear winter and a sharply degraded ozone layer as well as the ruinous chaos that follows eventually destroys the rest of human civilization, and perhaps humanity itself.  The Nuclear Age is not over, and ignoring the danger doesn’t change it.

This possibility may come as a surprise for those who assume that the threat of thermonuclear self-destruction ended with the fall of the Soviet Union and the supposed end of the Cold War.  But despite reductions in nuclear weapons (which would be obsolete by now anyway) there is still enough nuclear firepower on alert to more than destroy everything we know.  But we don't hear much about this anymore.

 “Russians” was a song on Sting’s first album after he disbanded the Police, and was released as a single in November 1985.  The early to mid 1980s were rife with expressions of concern and alarm over new accelerations to the nuclear arms race.  These were the years of the Nuclear Freeze movement (to freeze the growth of nuclear weapons) and concern over Nuclear Winter, which Carl Sagan and other scientists theorized could result from even a limited nuclear exchange, creating enough dust high in the atmosphere to block out the sun for a considerable period, endangering all life on Earth.

  There was a 1983 exhibition in New York by 90 artists depicting the effects of nuclear war, and a collection of 44 such works that traveled to other cities.  A large group of poets held a reading in 1982 called “Poets against the End of the World,” and at least five anthologies of nuclear-themed work appeared in those years.   

 But most influential were the first television movies to graphically present scenarios of nuclear attacks and aftermaths: in the UK, the movie was Threads, which re-ran paired with the first such film to be made (in 1967) but never seen on TV, Peter Watkins’ War Games.  In the US the films were Testament and the one most remembered, The Day After, the only one made and shown on a major commercial network, and seen by more Americans on its first broadcast than any other program before or since.

 Then came the fall of the Soviet Union and a series of arms reduction agreements, and the public was eager to believe the threat was over. A RAND study begged to differ, though: suggesting the chances of accidental nuclear war to be greater.  By the early 2000s, in movies and in Washington and Moscow, nuclear weapons were defanged,  not so bad, just ordinary bombs but maybe a little bigger. 

 Without great scrutiny or alarm, nuclear arsenals have grown, more sophisticated weapons developed, one new nuclear power added (North Korea) and the treaty to prevent another one (Iran) wantonly and childishly destroyed. 

 As Japan, mostly alone, marks another anniversary of the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the nuclear threat is yesterday’s news.  And yet it is still today's possibility, and in some ways the dangers are increasing.  The Russians make nuclear noise, showcase new weapons systems and drop out of arms treaties. There are always new flashpoints, and they get more volatile and dangerous.  One has reached into this year's Nagasaki memorial, which decided to not invite Israel to participate for fear of demonstrations and trouble at a solemn event for peace.  The US Ambassador to Japan responded by declining to attend. 

The basics have not changed since the 1980s or even 1945: nuclear war is madness, and could happen at any moment.  Nor has the basis for addressing this issue, stated most succinctly in Sting's lyrics: "We share the same biology, regardless of ideology."  These words are reminicent of President Kennedy's summation in 1963: “For in the final analysis, our most basic common link is that we all inhabit this planet.  We all breathe the same air.  We all cherish our children’s future.  And we are all mortal.”