During the Cold War, nuclear holocaust was unavoidably on people’s minds, especially during and after the Cuban Missile Crisis. That crisis was, in fact, real; the threat was immediate; death seemed imminent for millions. Children were taught to “duck and cover” away from windows either in hallways or beneath desks.
For the general public, fallout shelters in the basements of many buildings were supposed to provide refugia, all of them marked with yellow and black signs. There wasn’t much science in designating which buildings were “bombproof”; the choice, made by some government official was probably based on the ostensible solidity of the foundation, maybe one with a granite-clad exterior. The fallout signage and choice of buildings were no doubt part of a plan to instill confidence in the citizenry that survivability was possible. No one seemed to question how a group of strangers shopping in local stores or taking their classes in old schools could gather under a fifteen-minute warning without food or water until the radioactivity subsided, maybe in a couple of hundred years or so.
But even in those potentially bleak times, there was a sense that one could survive, that life could go on. Recently, I came across an old public service announcement advocating the “duck and cover” procedure. “Here’s Tony in a cub scout meeting,” the narrator begins. And then he says that Tony knows to duck and cover when he sees the flash of a nuclear bomb. Never mind that if one sees the flash, blindness is a possible effect, and ionizing gamma rays already passed through the body, not to mention the vaporizing heat that would leave only Tony’s shadow. Anyway, the announcement ends with a cute ditty.* It’s almost Disney-like, the Disney of Mickey in his earliest days.
No doubt there were some in government and in the media of the times who were well aware of the horrors of a nuclear bomb blast. But maybe the times were a bit different. The media might have been complicit in a government plan to instill confidence and hope. Not many people understood radiation. Atomic bomb tests were televised. I know. I used to get up early in the morning to turn on the black-and-white TV to see a blast in Nevada—if I could line up the rabbit ears antenna properly. And what did I know about radiation except what I saw in science fiction movies? Oversized ants, or grasshoppers, or even rabbits that plagued the locals. Or radiation gave special powers to those irradiated, normal people turned into either monsters or superheroes. I had entered the atomic age. Could anything have more promise?
Fast forward to today. Sure, nuclear holocaust is possible, maybe even more so with terrorist-minded people and countries seeking to get the bomb or neighboring nuclear powers like India and China squabbling over borders. But I’m guessing that on your current list of concerns, nuclear holocaust is at the bottom. What’s on top? Why COVID-19, of course. And why is that?
Well, look at the difference in the media coverage. Social media, the Internet, radio, TV cable and networks, and traditional print media keep telling us that we’re doomed. Governors and mayors have shut down states and cities. Everyone is told that even ducking and covering is no guarantee of safety. Life is dire. COVID will kill us all. There are no safe shelters save living in one’s own basement. And even then, the virus might sneak in on some package, letter, or food wrapping.
What is interesting is that so many in government and media seem to thrive on negative news. I’ve seen no coverage of hope, especially when politically motivations prevail. Sure, I could argue that though COVID might not last for hundreds of years like radioactive fallout, it still poses an immediate threat. After all, look how many have died. I might be next. Isn’t there a shelter; isn’t there a ditty to make me feel a bit more light-hearted in the midst of widespread sickness and death. Wait! Is there widespread sickness and death? I seem to remember a 2009 pandemic that infected tens of millions of people. What am I looking at in September, 2020? Six million Americans infected? Sure, that’s a lot, but not tens of millions. Sure, that’s a lot, but in a population of 325 million? Sure, more could be infected before the virus either mutates or yields to a vaccine or therapy.
These are definitely different times from those Cold War days. Someone needs to write a cute ditty about Tony at his cub scout meeting when he hears someone cough. "Yes, Tony knows to put on his mask and socially distance."
*Listen to Number 17 at https://music.apple.com/us/album/duck-and-cover-atomic-bomb-psa/584957485?i=584958071
For the general public, fallout shelters in the basements of many buildings were supposed to provide refugia, all of them marked with yellow and black signs. There wasn’t much science in designating which buildings were “bombproof”; the choice, made by some government official was probably based on the ostensible solidity of the foundation, maybe one with a granite-clad exterior. The fallout signage and choice of buildings were no doubt part of a plan to instill confidence in the citizenry that survivability was possible. No one seemed to question how a group of strangers shopping in local stores or taking their classes in old schools could gather under a fifteen-minute warning without food or water until the radioactivity subsided, maybe in a couple of hundred years or so.
But even in those potentially bleak times, there was a sense that one could survive, that life could go on. Recently, I came across an old public service announcement advocating the “duck and cover” procedure. “Here’s Tony in a cub scout meeting,” the narrator begins. And then he says that Tony knows to duck and cover when he sees the flash of a nuclear bomb. Never mind that if one sees the flash, blindness is a possible effect, and ionizing gamma rays already passed through the body, not to mention the vaporizing heat that would leave only Tony’s shadow. Anyway, the announcement ends with a cute ditty.* It’s almost Disney-like, the Disney of Mickey in his earliest days.
No doubt there were some in government and in the media of the times who were well aware of the horrors of a nuclear bomb blast. But maybe the times were a bit different. The media might have been complicit in a government plan to instill confidence and hope. Not many people understood radiation. Atomic bomb tests were televised. I know. I used to get up early in the morning to turn on the black-and-white TV to see a blast in Nevada—if I could line up the rabbit ears antenna properly. And what did I know about radiation except what I saw in science fiction movies? Oversized ants, or grasshoppers, or even rabbits that plagued the locals. Or radiation gave special powers to those irradiated, normal people turned into either monsters or superheroes. I had entered the atomic age. Could anything have more promise?
Fast forward to today. Sure, nuclear holocaust is possible, maybe even more so with terrorist-minded people and countries seeking to get the bomb or neighboring nuclear powers like India and China squabbling over borders. But I’m guessing that on your current list of concerns, nuclear holocaust is at the bottom. What’s on top? Why COVID-19, of course. And why is that?
Well, look at the difference in the media coverage. Social media, the Internet, radio, TV cable and networks, and traditional print media keep telling us that we’re doomed. Governors and mayors have shut down states and cities. Everyone is told that even ducking and covering is no guarantee of safety. Life is dire. COVID will kill us all. There are no safe shelters save living in one’s own basement. And even then, the virus might sneak in on some package, letter, or food wrapping.
What is interesting is that so many in government and media seem to thrive on negative news. I’ve seen no coverage of hope, especially when politically motivations prevail. Sure, I could argue that though COVID might not last for hundreds of years like radioactive fallout, it still poses an immediate threat. After all, look how many have died. I might be next. Isn’t there a shelter; isn’t there a ditty to make me feel a bit more light-hearted in the midst of widespread sickness and death. Wait! Is there widespread sickness and death? I seem to remember a 2009 pandemic that infected tens of millions of people. What am I looking at in September, 2020? Six million Americans infected? Sure, that’s a lot, but not tens of millions. Sure, that’s a lot, but in a population of 325 million? Sure, more could be infected before the virus either mutates or yields to a vaccine or therapy.
These are definitely different times from those Cold War days. Someone needs to write a cute ditty about Tony at his cub scout meeting when he hears someone cough. "Yes, Tony knows to put on his mask and socially distance."
*Listen to Number 17 at https://music.apple.com/us/album/duck-and-cover-atomic-bomb-psa/584957485?i=584958071
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