Tuesday, I went on Judge Napolitano’s show, and we talked about several challenging issues. Among them, the Trump administration’s military coup in Venezuela and the illegality of the same, the difficulty of disobeying illegal orders (and of distinguishing what is legal under pressure and within a hierarchical organization), colossal spending on the U.S. military, and the ongoing threat of nuclear armageddon, even as the “glitter” of nuclear weapons continues to enthrall, appealing to technical arrogance while offering illusions of illimitable power, as Freeman Dyson once explained.
A clarification: I mentioned in the interview that there are more than 5000 nuclear weapons and warheads around the world; I should have said that’s the number in the U.S. nuclear arsenal. Russia has an equivalent number, China a much smaller but growing arsenal, and other countries like Britain, France, India, and Pakistan have their own. The total global arsenal is roughly 13,000 nuclear weapons, which I suppose illustrates our collective death wish (though we’ll take most of life on earth with us if we ever use these weapons).
Many thanks to Judge Napolitano for being willing to address such serious issues, issues that are rarely discussed in the U.S. mainstream media today.
Recently, the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists featured a fiction contest: “Write Before Midnight.” I sent in an entry, which, sad to say, didn’t win. (The winners can be found here.) But that’s OK: I enjoyed writing something other than my usual essays. My “losing” entry to the contest follows. (Re-reading it, it’s perhaps too much like a memoir rather than fiction.)
*****
Making Armageddon Great Again
And so the missiles are finally here. Long ago, I thought I’d put nuclear war in the rearview mirror. I never expected to see a mushroom cloud through my windshield, rising in the near distance.
I’d seen something like it before—Russian nuclear missiles flying over the North Pole on their way to America—but that was fifty years ago. I was a young lieutenant then, working in the Missile Warning Center deep inside Cheyenne Mountain. Those missile tracks weren’t real; they were part of a war game, fed into our computers on magnetic tape. The exercise ended with a simulated Armageddon, soundless, screamless.
Even so, when the tracks terminated at U.S. cities, we all went quiet. Sitting two thousand feet under granite, staring at monochrome monitors, we imagined those cities vaporized in an instant. Millions dead, incinerated in a heartbeat. The thought chilled us.
I was 24 then, serving my country against the “evil empire” of the Soviet Union, near the tail end of the Cold War. The first Cold War, I should add—as opposed to the “new” one we’ve been trapped in for the past two decades. Well, it’s plenty hot now. Thermonuclear hot.
I was far enough from my city’s ground zero to survive the initial blast and heat. But at 74, I know these are my last days. Fallout will finish me—unless I take care of it myself first.
I now know for certain that, after an unimaginably destructive nuclear exchange (a nice euphemism, isn’t it?), the living will envy the dead. For now, I’m one of the living, caught in a land of the dead.
How did it come to this? We always ask that, don’t we? How did I let a 50-year-old nightmare scenario on magnetic tape become real? Couldn’t I have done something—anything—to stop it?
Even now, I like to think I could have. There was nothing inevitable about the “new” Cold War or its culmination in MAD—mutual assured destruction. I just wasn’t mad enough to resist it with the ferocity required. I gave my quiet consent to the warmongers, the death-wishers, the ones who talk tough about “big-boy pants,” the ones haunted by missile envy and mindless fear. The ones who blow hardest just before they decide to blow up the world.
I saw it coming. So did many others. I wrote against the “new” Cold War. I denounced so-called investments in new nuclear weapons. I warned about militarizing space, how our early warning satellites and sensors could be blinded. I cautioned that President Trump’s “Golden Dome” missile shield might make nuclear war more likely. None of it mattered. Money spoke louder than I ever could—talk of jobs and the promise of profits outweighed any argument I could muster.
And so here I am, facing darkness—smoke, ash, soot blotting out the sun. I’ve stocked enough supplies to last a couple of weeks, but what’s the point? I have no desire to navigate a post-apocalyptic hellscape.
Once upon a time, I was an Air Force historian, a captain, teaching cadets about the making and use of the atomic bomb. That was 1992—45 years ago. Where does the time go? We even took the cadets to Los Alamos, the birthplace of the bomb, and then on to the Trinity test site.
Back then I was oddly optimistic. The Soviet Union had collapsed. Politicians were talking about peace dividends. Some even hinted that America might become a normal country in normal times. Normalcy! Imagine that today.
I remember a somewhat glum spokesman at Los Alamos talking about reinventing the lab—shifting to peaceful purposes, maybe consumer electronics like VCRs and CD players, competing with Japan. I was skeptical. Nuclear physicists designing camcorders and video games? A longshot—but better than cranking out new warheads and bombs.
At Trinity, what struck me most was the absence of the tower from which the “gadget” had been suspended. Vaporized instantly. Only twisted rebar remained at the base. And that had been a baby nuke—mere kilotons compared to the megatons in our arsenal. I tried to impress this on the cadets, some of whom might someday be ordered to launch such weapons. But who can really picture megatons of destruction, repeated again and again and again?
A sharp-eyed cadet found a sliver of trinitite. For some reason, I had to touch it, briefly, radioactivity be damned. This tiny fragment, this ghost of Trinity, made it all seem real. As a few atomic tourists walked around the scrub desert in masks, fearful still of breathing in radioactive particles, I thought of Oppenheimer’s god of death, the destroyer of worlds. That god has finally come for us—bringing mass death just as Oppie knew he would.
Now, back in the present, at least I’ve filled both bathtubs with water. A small reserve. At Cheyenne Mountain, there was a pond underground, a kind of giant bathtub, complete with a rowboat, so I was told. Maybe Charon did the rowing. We used to joke that boat and reservoir was the Navy’s presence in our Air Force-run bunker. I never saw that boat or pond. I wish I had.
There’s a lot I wish I’d seen. I thought there’d be more time. Next month, next year, next life.
Next life. That’s what I cling to now. I fought the good fight. I tried to argue for disarmament as the only sane option—for America, for humanity, for the entire living breathing beautiful planet of ours. But others thought differently. Some were simply making too much money, making Armageddon great again.
So don’t judge me for thinking about the unthinkable. I know suicide is a mortal sin for us Catholics. But my Ruger 9mm sits by my side. Twelve rounds in the magazine—but I’ll only need the one in the chamber.
Yes, I’ve seen the mushroom cloud. And soon, quite soon, there’ll be a smoking gun.
There are at least 30 trillion reasons why the Trump administration is waging war against Venezuela. Recall that Venezuela has proven oil reserves of 300 billion barrels. If those barrels average $100 over the decades of their extraction, that’s $30 trillion, an immense sum representing about 80% of America’s colossal national debt. Of course, most of those trillions will go to multinationals and billionaires, not to the American people—and certainly not to the Venezuelan people. But who said life is fair?
The so-called Donroe Doctrine of hemispheric dominance represents the return of unapologetic gangster capitalism. The basic policy of the Trump administration recalls Michael Corleone, the mafia don in “The Godfather” saga. When his consigliere Tom Hagen (played by Robert Duvall) asks Michael (played by Al Pacino) whether he has to wipe everyone out, Michael coldly replies “Just my enemies.” Anyone who defies the Corleone Family must be eliminated.
Maduro defied the Trump “family” so he had to be taken out. Cuba and Iran may be the next “enemies” to be “wiped out.”
As Trump once said in an interview, the U.S has plenty of killers. This is what the exercise of naked power looks like. Power without morality. Power without principles other than profit and the further consolidation of power.
U.S. democracy is a sham. We have shamocracy. Thugocracy. The strong do what they will; the weak suffer as they must. What matters is control, power, and profits.
Again, as Caitlin Johnstone noted, Trump has been transparent about his motives. Put bluntly, it’s the oil, stupid.
“We’re gonna take back the oil that frankly we should have taken back a long time ago,” Trump told the press following Maduro’s abduction, saying “We’re going to be taking out a tremendous amount of wealth out of the ground, and that wealth is going to the people of Venezuela, and people from outside of Venezuela that used to be in Venezuela, and it goes also to the United States of America in the form of reimbursement for the damages caused us by that country.”
“We’re going to have our very large United States oil companies, the biggest anywhere in the world, go in, spend billions of dollars, fix the badly broken infrastructure, the oil infrastructure, and start making money for the country, and we are ready to stage a second and much larger attack if we need to do so,” Trump said.
“We have tremendous energy in that country. It’s very important that we protect it. We need that for ourselves, we need that for the world,” the president added.
Trump is America’s most scrutable president. He doesn’t bother to hide his motives here. This is theft, impure and very simple. We have the power to take it and we will, full stop.
Sometimes, imagining an opposite scenario can bring folly and illegality into relief.
Imagine if Venezuela attacked the U.S. Imagine if President Trump and Melania Trump were seized, and that the Venezuelan attorney general said they would face justice in Venezuela. I’d imagine that nearly all Americans would see this as an act of war, a gross violation of national sovereignty. American vengeance would be swift.
Of course, this is not Opposite Day. It’s the U.S. that has attacked Venezuela, seizing Maduro and his wife, with U.S. Attorney General Pam Bondi vowing “They will soon face the full wrath of American justice on American soil in American courts.”
WTF? After kidnapping foreign leaders in an obvious act of war, we’re then going to try them in U.S. courts as if they’re American citizens subjects? When did U.S. courts become international courts of justice? I know—that’s hardly the worst of it.
The conceit here is stunning, as is the exertion of executive privilege. Apparently, Trump didn’t bother to consult with Congress before launching this war. That is unconstitutional and an impeachable offense.
Yesterday, I was reading about how the Maduro government was open to negotiations with the Trump administration. Today, Maduro is apparently in American hands, kidnapped in a military coup.
Yes, the people of Venezuela would prefer to elect or depose their own presidents. Yankee go home!
I know Trump and others have always lusted after Venezuela’s oil and gas reserves, but seriously? Which country are we going to invade next, which leaders will we kidnap next, using the false pretext of fighting a war on drugs? (Speaking of drugs, it seems like half the ads on TV now are for selling “legal” drugs of one sort or another, featuring lots of smiling happy people; are we going to declare war on Big Pharma?)
I’m tempted to write the U.S. has hit a new low on the international stage, but surely we know lower acts are coming. The optimism of the New Year died so quickly, didn’t it?
The scary part is that the official death toll of 76,134 is an undercount. So many bodies remain under rubble or just plain obliterated by bombs.
Of course, the so-called cease fire in Gaza is anything but as Israel continues its policy of not-so-selective killing and slow strangulation. If you suggest genocide is wrong, the predictable response from the Israeli-U.S. government is that you’re a Hamas terrorist sympathizer and probably an anti-Semite as well (the latter is true even if you’re Jewish).
Coincidentally, I just took a drink after typing that and started choking. OK, maybe that wasn’t a coincidence.
I remember during Catholic service we’d sing the hymn: “Whatsoever you do to the least my brothers, that you do unto me.” I guess they’re just empty words to all those avowed Christians in the government.
Bracing Views 