Nuclear Blatancy
Day
There are political dangers in a standing army; yet SAC’s
power to destroy civilization should not be in the hands of recruits. How,
then, do we reconcile citizen armies with nuclear technology?
Jonathan Schell offers a partial solution in his book, “The
Abolition”, which proposes that the USA become a “latent” nuclear power; that
is, that it dismantle all actual nuclear bombs, but retain (and indeed
strengthen) its ability to swiftly build those bombs.
We
keep the know-how and the infrastructure and the fissile materials, but hold
off on building the accursed things unless we need them right away. You could
call it just-in-time civicide; like taking the bullet out of the rifle over the
fireplace. I also call it the “virtual” bomb. Nuclear latency is purified
deterrence; a way for America to say to the world that we don’t feel like
killing a million people today, so don’t make us want to.
I like Schell’s idea, but I think it’s incomplete. It’s too
rational, it lacks the aura of apocalyptic histrionics so natural to all things
nuclear. Also, those virtual bombs need occasional testing, to be credible.
Therefore
I offer the following modest proposal: Nuclear Blatancy Day. It’s a nuclear war
game, and it works like this:
Participating
contestant countries send the following to the U.S.A.:
A
“shell”; that is, a nuclear bomb, minus trigger-explosives and fissiles; and sent
separate from that, trigger explosives and fissiles;
Blueprints
for those nukes;
A
modest entrance fee;
And
a sizable entrance loan.
The
shell, the explosives and the fissiles are given with careful ceremony by
participant countries to the U.S.A. via their elite military forces. The
entrance fee defrays America’s game-hosting expenses; and return of the loan
depends upon the kilotonnage of the nukes.
Some
American citizens will compete for prizes by submitting their own shells and
blueprints. The Defense Department will provide explosives and fissiles.
Shell,
explosives and fissiles then go to the test site, where there are glove boxes,
deep shafts, and reporters with video cameras. On Trinity Day, high-ranking representatives
from the participating countries arrive at the test site, to witness the
results personally.
Also
on hand are American contestants, reporters, politicians, marching bands
(pro-bomb) and satirical giant-puppet troupes (anti-bomb). Both groups are
welcomed as essential components of the inherently mixed message being sent
that day. Politicians speak smoothly in
praise of the People’s Bomb; a grandmother from Hiroshima pleads passionately
for peace.
One
of the speakers is a “holy fool”, who wears motley, and whose job is to
question, warn, bewail, criticize, satirize, mock, castigate, and curse the assembled
heads of state for their nuclear ambitions.
Each
country’s team assembles their nukes in the glove boxes, under close
surveillance by Americans. These nukes then go to the bottom of the mine shafts.
The mine shafts are sealed off.
The
countdown starts. Five, four, three, two, one, zero! Suddenly the earth quakes,
and new craters collapse in the desert. The marching bands cheer, the
puppeteers boo, and the foreign dignitaries look at each other nervously.
Technicians announce yields; the winning contestants get scholarships and job
offers; and the dignitary from Japan politely tells the other dignitaries that
these Americans are indeed as crazy as they look, so don’t mess with them!
The
heads of state attend a banquet, then go home.
All
countries whose nukes do not achieve the kilotonnage goal forfeit their loans.
The winning countries get back their loans, and the forfeited loans are
distributed evenly among the winning countries and the U.S.A.
Entrance
loans are also forfeit if the nukes cause damage to the test site by exceeding
the kilotonnage limit.
The
blueprints, and the glove-box footage, is distributed, unedited, to the winning
countries and the U.S.A.
In
addition to the loans, there may also be prior treaties whose terms depend upon
the kilotonnage of the nukes. These “side bets” may cover exchanges of money,
territory, alliances, trading arrangements, and other considerations that would
otherwise require a war to settle.
The point of the exercise is to impose order upon chaos via
games and ritual. Nuclear war games are “virtual” nuclear wars; they have all
the physical ferocity of nuclear war, but with zero casualties. This maximizes
witnesses, and consequent political point. It is given full global media
scrutiny, with blueprints shared by the winners, in order to reduce uncertainty
to a minimum; for the greatest terror is the unknown.
Unassembled nukes, with shell, trigger and fissiles stored
separately, are “virtual” nukes, which all participating countries have by
definition. Virtual nukes are reliable once they are tested in a virtual
nuclear war. Unlike assembled nukes, virtual nukes do not threaten a
first-strike attack; yet they resist first strike. It’s hard to nuke a nuke
that isn’t there yet. So it’s best to not wake the dragon!
