Carlo G Contrino embarks on the epic debate about nuclear destruction revealing the current views on this horrifying conflict from an real conversation.
‘So you mean the whole world really was twenty minutes away from destruction at any one time?’ spoke an incredulous voice.
‘Yes, it really was. It is hard for me to describe, but the threat of global thermonuclear war -a phrase I hadn’t used since the Berlin Wall came down - was real and people honestly went about with this in their heads.’ I replied, startling myself by the reality of my statement.
Describing the Cold War to students born in 1988-1992 was a strange experience. Impossible for these people to realise how those pesky Reds might at any one moment begin a conflict that could destroy the world. Never the Americans! I could see the knowledge - that the world was fragile - dawning in her expression.
‘Wow, I’m glad that’s over. Now that we are friends with the Russians all we have to worry about is mad people getting hold of the bomb.’ Images of a Uranium poisoned ex-KGB spy sprung to mind, but I refused to shatter any more illusions for one day.
‘Don’t worry, it’s not very likely you will see a mushroom cloud anymore’ I lied, not knowing what the future held. My students looked honestly relieved.
Teaching really could be an interesting job, especially when you watched a group of eighteen year old girls try to fathom that the world could have ENDED. Capital letters with a full stop.
‘Do you think anyone would ever use a nuclear bomb to get what they wanted?’ inquired one, ‘Or would the threat of other people nuking them put them off?’
Clever question - I remember that she wanted to be a criminal psychologist and deal with psychopaths. And that she had been a model for a surf wear company.
‘Easter Island - anyone know where that is?’ I questioned.
They rush to give the usual answer: big heads carved of stone. No one lives there anymore. What’s this got to do with nuclear bombs?
‘Well Easter Island was a microcosm of the world at large about 2000 miles from the nearest inhabited land. It had a population of about thirty thousand who lived in a number of villages ruled by chieftains.’
Pictures of an idyllic Polynesian lifestyle with bread fruit and pretty dancing girls; what poets and dreamers have considered paradise for centuries. A literal Firadu.
‘Well in the space of a few hundred years a growing population put such a strain on natural resources that a rapid deforestation ensued. No more trees, no more fishing canoes. The soil to grow plants and vegetables blown away, less food and less resources for more people.’
The politics student with the mole joined in
‘Sort of like the world today, less and less oil with more and more people.’ A natural declaimer, she had a melodious voice and a sharp mind. Sharper than mine. ‘Everyone knows wars are fought over money, which means resources and power. A war maybe, but I doubt anyone sane would use nuclear bombs to get hold of what they wanted. The risk of destroying everything would be too great’.
Echoes of MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction). No one would fight if it meant the destruction of what they fought over. I’d like to believe that.
‘You might be right’, I agreed, ‘but if we take the example of Easter Island its not good. As their resources dwindled they splintered into groups led by warlords. Archaeologists have discovered stone-headed spears and stone clubs instead of fishing tackle and farming tools, advanced killing tools in a culture that had previously had no weapons. Then they found bones with human teeth marks.’ I paused to enable the thought to sink in.
‘You mean they ate each other?’ politics voiced her disgust at this alien behaviour.
‘Yes. And the last appearance of the once advanced culture of Easter Island is a reference by Dutch explorers who witnessed a ragged tribe of savages hunting each other down in the forest of stone heads.’
‘Are you trying to compare them with us?’ Credulous model was back in.
‘When I think about nuclear war it seems ridiculous, because no one would destroy the world. Then I picture two ragged men, last survivors of their race beating each other to death with clubs, amongst the grand remains of their world.’
God I forgot what discussing the Cold War did to people. I suppose that’s what Damocles felt like. Time to move on to Big Brother.
