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Once upon a time, long ago in another universe, the end of the world was left in the hands of the gods, not human beings. Today, however, humanity, in its curious ingenuity, has managed to come up with two ways of destroying itself, as well as the very habitat that welcomed and nourished it all these eons. For the first of these, two dates suffice: August 6th and 9th, 1945. Those were, of course, the moments when the primordial power of the split atom was first released directly on the human populations (and cityscapes) of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Not long after, the two Cold War superpowers began to create vast arsenals of such weaponry, ever more powerful, ever more destructive, that could, if released in a full-scale nuclear war, annihilate not just humanity but much of the world (and possibly two or three more Earth-sized planets in the bargain). This was, in the phrase of the era, "the unthinkable" and, as TomDispatch regular Rebecca Gordon reminds us today, those of us growing up in the Cold War years couldn't stop thinking the unthinkable.
Unlike that version of Armageddon, consciously organized, planned out, tested, and financed by the American and then Soviet governments (which would, when all its implications were clear, be replicated by a host of other powers ranging from China and Great Britain to Israel and North Korea), the second human apocalypse was essentially inadvertent. It caught us unawares. It turned out that, once burned, coal and oil, the energy sources that powered the industrial revolution and so changed forever the nature of our lives, were also putting greenhouse gases into the atmosphere. These would cumulatively warm the planet in ways guaranteed to devastate humanity -- not in an instant but over hundreds of years in what can only be imagined as a slow-motion Armageddon.
Think of these two apocalypses as nuclear winter (an effect of nuclear war, not known in 1945, in which even a regional nuclear exchange could devastate the planet) and climate change summer with, as we've experienced this year in the U.S., its extreme weather, fierce droughts, raging wildfires, and rising sea levels.
What makes this moment in the first year of the age of Trump so extreme is that our strange new president, a man ready to turn everything (even the dead of America's wars) into a win-lose contest centered on himself, has taken the accumulated knowledge of the two potential human apocalypses and essentially tossed them out the window of Trump Tower. It's possible, in other words, that the guy with the orange comb-over, the jut jaw, the thinnest of skins, and the most limited of vocabularies -- and his urge to inflict "fire and fury" and his fervent rejection of the very existence of climate change -- may be the true apocalyptic god of our era. It's a hard thought to take in, but let Rebecca Gordon, TomDispatch's expert in "forever wars," lend a hand on the nuclear part of the equation with her latest piece, "Trump's Nuclear Dreams."
Dear Common Dreams reader, It’s been nearly 30 years since I co-founded Common Dreams with my late wife, Lina Newhouser. We had the radical notion that journalism should serve the public good, not corporate profits. It was clear to us from the outset what it would take to build such a project. No paid advertisements. No corporate sponsors. No millionaire publisher telling us what to think or do. Many people said we wouldn't last a year, but we proved those doubters wrong. Together with a tremendous team of journalists and dedicated staff, we built an independent media outlet free from the constraints of profits and corporate control. Our mission has always been simple: To inform. To inspire. To ignite change for the common good. Building Common Dreams was not easy. Our survival was never guaranteed. When you take on the most powerful forces—Wall Street greed, fossil fuel industry destruction, Big Tech lobbyists, and uber-rich oligarchs who have spent billions upon billions rigging the economy and democracy in their favor—the only bulwark you have is supporters who believe in your work. But here’s the urgent message from me today. It's never been this bad out there. And it's never been this hard to keep us going. At the very moment Common Dreams is most needed, the threats we face are intensifying. We need your support now more than ever. We don't accept corporate advertising and never will. We don't have a paywall because we don't think people should be blocked from critical news based on their ability to pay. Everything we do is funded by the donations of readers like you. When everyone does the little they can afford, we are strong. But if that support retreats or dries up, so do we. Will you donate now to make sure Common Dreams not only survives but thrives? —Craig Brown, Co-founder |
The above piece, published here with permission, first appeared at Tom Engelhardt's substack page, where you can find more of his writing.
Engelhardt, was editor-in-chief of TomDispatch.com for over 24 years, is the author of numerous books, including: "A Nation Unmade by War" (2018, Dispatch Books), "Shadow Government: Surveillance, Secret Wars, and a Global Security State in a Single-Superpower World" (2014, with an introduction by Glenn Greenwald), "Terminator Planet: The First History of Drone Warfare, 2001-2050"(co-authored with Nick Turse), "The United States of Fear" (2011), "The American Way of War: How Bush's Wars Became Obama's" (2010), and "The End of Victory Culture: a History of the Cold War and Beyond" (2007).
Once upon a time, long ago in another universe, the end of the world was left in the hands of the gods, not human beings. Today, however, humanity, in its curious ingenuity, has managed to come up with two ways of destroying itself, as well as the very habitat that welcomed and nourished it all these eons. For the first of these, two dates suffice: August 6th and 9th, 1945. Those were, of course, the moments when the primordial power of the split atom was first released directly on the human populations (and cityscapes) of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Not long after, the two Cold War superpowers began to create vast arsenals of such weaponry, ever more powerful, ever more destructive, that could, if released in a full-scale nuclear war, annihilate not just humanity but much of the world (and possibly two or three more Earth-sized planets in the bargain). This was, in the phrase of the era, "the unthinkable" and, as TomDispatch regular Rebecca Gordon reminds us today, those of us growing up in the Cold War years couldn't stop thinking the unthinkable.
Unlike that version of Armageddon, consciously organized, planned out, tested, and financed by the American and then Soviet governments (which would, when all its implications were clear, be replicated by a host of other powers ranging from China and Great Britain to Israel and North Korea), the second human apocalypse was essentially inadvertent. It caught us unawares. It turned out that, once burned, coal and oil, the energy sources that powered the industrial revolution and so changed forever the nature of our lives, were also putting greenhouse gases into the atmosphere. These would cumulatively warm the planet in ways guaranteed to devastate humanity -- not in an instant but over hundreds of years in what can only be imagined as a slow-motion Armageddon.
Think of these two apocalypses as nuclear winter (an effect of nuclear war, not known in 1945, in which even a regional nuclear exchange could devastate the planet) and climate change summer with, as we've experienced this year in the U.S., its extreme weather, fierce droughts, raging wildfires, and rising sea levels.
What makes this moment in the first year of the age of Trump so extreme is that our strange new president, a man ready to turn everything (even the dead of America's wars) into a win-lose contest centered on himself, has taken the accumulated knowledge of the two potential human apocalypses and essentially tossed them out the window of Trump Tower. It's possible, in other words, that the guy with the orange comb-over, the jut jaw, the thinnest of skins, and the most limited of vocabularies -- and his urge to inflict "fire and fury" and his fervent rejection of the very existence of climate change -- may be the true apocalyptic god of our era. It's a hard thought to take in, but let Rebecca Gordon, TomDispatch's expert in "forever wars," lend a hand on the nuclear part of the equation with her latest piece, "Trump's Nuclear Dreams."
The above piece, published here with permission, first appeared at Tom Engelhardt's substack page, where you can find more of his writing.
Engelhardt, was editor-in-chief of TomDispatch.com for over 24 years, is the author of numerous books, including: "A Nation Unmade by War" (2018, Dispatch Books), "Shadow Government: Surveillance, Secret Wars, and a Global Security State in a Single-Superpower World" (2014, with an introduction by Glenn Greenwald), "Terminator Planet: The First History of Drone Warfare, 2001-2050"(co-authored with Nick Turse), "The United States of Fear" (2011), "The American Way of War: How Bush's Wars Became Obama's" (2010), and "The End of Victory Culture: a History of the Cold War and Beyond" (2007).
Once upon a time, long ago in another universe, the end of the world was left in the hands of the gods, not human beings. Today, however, humanity, in its curious ingenuity, has managed to come up with two ways of destroying itself, as well as the very habitat that welcomed and nourished it all these eons. For the first of these, two dates suffice: August 6th and 9th, 1945. Those were, of course, the moments when the primordial power of the split atom was first released directly on the human populations (and cityscapes) of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Not long after, the two Cold War superpowers began to create vast arsenals of such weaponry, ever more powerful, ever more destructive, that could, if released in a full-scale nuclear war, annihilate not just humanity but much of the world (and possibly two or three more Earth-sized planets in the bargain). This was, in the phrase of the era, "the unthinkable" and, as TomDispatch regular Rebecca Gordon reminds us today, those of us growing up in the Cold War years couldn't stop thinking the unthinkable.
Unlike that version of Armageddon, consciously organized, planned out, tested, and financed by the American and then Soviet governments (which would, when all its implications were clear, be replicated by a host of other powers ranging from China and Great Britain to Israel and North Korea), the second human apocalypse was essentially inadvertent. It caught us unawares. It turned out that, once burned, coal and oil, the energy sources that powered the industrial revolution and so changed forever the nature of our lives, were also putting greenhouse gases into the atmosphere. These would cumulatively warm the planet in ways guaranteed to devastate humanity -- not in an instant but over hundreds of years in what can only be imagined as a slow-motion Armageddon.
Think of these two apocalypses as nuclear winter (an effect of nuclear war, not known in 1945, in which even a regional nuclear exchange could devastate the planet) and climate change summer with, as we've experienced this year in the U.S., its extreme weather, fierce droughts, raging wildfires, and rising sea levels.
What makes this moment in the first year of the age of Trump so extreme is that our strange new president, a man ready to turn everything (even the dead of America's wars) into a win-lose contest centered on himself, has taken the accumulated knowledge of the two potential human apocalypses and essentially tossed them out the window of Trump Tower. It's possible, in other words, that the guy with the orange comb-over, the jut jaw, the thinnest of skins, and the most limited of vocabularies -- and his urge to inflict "fire and fury" and his fervent rejection of the very existence of climate change -- may be the true apocalyptic god of our era. It's a hard thought to take in, but let Rebecca Gordon, TomDispatch's expert in "forever wars," lend a hand on the nuclear part of the equation with her latest piece, "Trump's Nuclear Dreams."