Russian TV audiences are
treated to a graphic presentation showing how British civilisation will be targeted
by the thermo-nuclear warheads of their owl ballistic missiles. Other state-supported
broadcasts use AI to merge familiar London scenes with clips of nuclear
detonations, demonstrating how the Houses of Parliament, Buck Palace and
Trafalgar Square will cease to exist. All of which, of course, is indisputable.
Yes, Bloodymire Putin is capable of inflicting enormous damage to the seven UK
cities shown on the presentation, including London. A third of the UK’s
population will be wiped out in the attack, and a third more will die in the
aftermath. The remaining twenty or so million people will face a lifetime of
hardships; and for generations, the effects of radioactive fallout, the
pollution from those missiles that are shot down or fail to explode - plus the long-term
effects of infrastructure damage – will blight the UK archipelago’s
inhabitants, probably leading many of them to become refugees. And where on
earth will they go?
Though Mr Putin’s assurance
that British civilisation will consequently be destroyed is less certain. True,
Greece will never get back the marble sculptures that Thomas Bruce (7th
earl of Elgin) hacked and stole from the Parthenon. The hull of HMS Victory
(Admiral Nelson’s flagship from the battle of Trafalgar) will be reduced to a
cloud of ashes scattered across the Channel. Universities such as Oxford will go
unvisited for some time; the grounds of stately homes ploughed up to grow
cabbages and potatoes; and the original manuscripts, canvases and celluloid
archives of many libraries and museums vanish for ever. Some regional accents
will disappear, while others fuse into newfangled mongolots. Will Hay, Bessie
Braddock and Agatha Christie – for lack of research and enthusiasm - might be
utterly forgotten; and other cultural remnants - such as the rivalries of
London, Manchester and Glasgow football teams - may lose all significance. Such
will be the shared trauma of the remaining population that differences of race &
colour, class & wealth, and North & South could wither far sooner than
otherwise. Government as we know it might fizzle on for a long while, while distrust
of a UK supra-nationality will have communities reverting to their pre-Celtic,
anarcho-feudality. Survival will depend on co-operation in matters of food
production, energy, housing and transport on the one hand; and on defences
against overseas marauders on the other. The fallout from Putin actually
carrying out his mad threat – nuclear, chemical, biological and ephemeral -
will persist for centuries.
Meantime, the Royal Navy
will have been alerted to the attack and its response will be more or less
automatic. I know this. There is no question of some conscience-struck captain
of the HMS Stick-It-Up-Your-Jumper-Mate failing to carry out orders. How do I
know this? My father was the carpenter who built the captains’ cabins of two
nuclear submarines constructed at Camel-Lairds shipyard in Birkenhead in the 1960s: the Polaris sub
“Renown” and the hunter-killer “Conqueror”. When prime minister Margaret Thatcher,
in a fit of jingoistic rage, ordered Conqueror to sink the Argentinian cruiser
“Belgrano” in 1982, the captain didn’t hesitate much. He carried his orders in
good faith. My father was sick to his stomach, saying, “That was not what we
built those subs for!” He had taken on the job with a bellyful of trepidations;
and as he worked away panelling the bulkheads in teak and mahogany, he was
doubleplus careful never to leave any irritating fault, no screwhead swarf or
unbevelled edge, nor any untoward crossgrains that would disturb the occupant
of that tiny, undersea living space. So, when Conqueror sent the young,
conscript crew of the Belgrano to the bottom of the South Atlantic, Harold Lee
cursed Mrs Thatcher. Having been away to sea himself - his ship the RMS Baltic
came to the rescue of the schooner “Northern Lights” in 1929 – he had seen for
himself what drowning in such circumstances meant. And then it came as no
surprise to him when Argentina responded in kind, sinking six British ships,
including “The Atlantic Conveyor” – which was a merchantman with a civilian
crew. As a result of Thatcher’s anger, ten times the casualties were suffered
in the recovery of those godforsaken islands.
I was a fulltime
anti-nuclear campaigner at the time of the Falklands War, and my father and I
had discussions about the rights and wrongs of deterrence. On the whole, he
agreed with my opposition to the deployment of tactical nuclear weapons, such
as the Cruise Missiles at Greenham Common and the Pershing IIs. But, even after
the South Atlantic War was long over, he would support the upgrading of
Britain’s deterrent to Trident. I still think the UK should have taken a
different pathway back then, but realpolitik, ie the reality of world we live
in, dictates how these things are played out. Bloodymire should never doubt
that the Royal Navy will do its D U T Y.
Oh, you might ask, isn’t
there some kind of dual key, here? Won’t Downing Street be on the blower to
Donald J Duck, squatting deep in their brickbuilt shitehouse, for a quick
consultation? Even if there was time (which there won’t be) between the launch
of Russian missiles and the UK’s response, there is nothing a lame US president
could do to restrain its number one ally’s response. Nor is there anything the
Pentagon could do. Even Musk - with his vast array of satellites – could only
warn the Russians of what they were already well aware: that their automated
RSVP was safely due to arrive within minutes.
One of the four HMS
Vanguard submarines is permanently at sea, and if tensions (as they probably
would be) were at a heightened state, probably a second would have been
scrambled. One sub, though, is all it takes. And whereas the Russians’
equipment is ageing, and has not been upgraded with the latest technology,
Britain’s American supplied missiles are the last word. A Vanguard submarine can
launch sixteen rockets that lift their nuclear payload into a low orbit, before
each of which re-enters the atmosphere as eight retargetable warheads. You may
do the maths on that yourself. But the weapons themselves are not American, they are British designed at AWRE Aldermaston and assembled at nearby ROF Burghfield
(both places I have peace-camped at). Let’s say that as with the output of
Russia’s rusting, land-based silos (post-Soviet Russia has not been able to
maintain a seaworthy fleet of nuclear submarines) - 25% of these miss their
targets, and a further 25% are somehow ack-acked. That leaves 100-plus warheads
raining down to airburst in clusters of five or ten above Moscow, St
Petersburg, Volgograd, Billy-Omsk and Bally-Tomsk (the Ural mountains will not
get in their way). Bang, bang, bang.
The UK is a relatively
small target, with its cities closely packed on the main island, so the
kill-rate will be unspeakable. Russia, however, spans seven time-zones, taking
up around a third of the Northern Hemisphere’s circumference. Its Western
provinces are where most of the population, industry and infrastructure lie. So,
unlike when targeting the UK, there will be vast areas unaffected by the
blasts. Possibly, then, only about a fifth of the population will die at first,
with another fifth following in the aftermath of the attack. To counter Mr
Putin’s threat to destroy a civilisation, however, the upshot of Britain’s
response won’t be so very different. The Kremlin will be gone, as will the
Winter Palace, the Ballet Rus and the Nevsky Prospekt. The Moscow tocsin will
melt into the ground it stands on. Infrastructure - from Arkangel to the Black
Sea - will collapse. Most electronic equipment will fail because of the effects
of Electro-Magnetic Pulse. No doubt, Putin and his henchmen will be safely
ensconced underground. Maybe even a land line or two will remain and, if he
chooses, the Russian leader will still be able to call a similarly hold-down
Starmer on the phone and take things from there.
Tolstoy and Shakespeare
will survive intact - as far as their works are concerned. As will recordings
of Benjamin Brittain and Dimitri Shostakovich, copies of images made by Marc
Chagall and David Hockney, and the steps of Swan Lake retraced by such UK dancers
who take its fancy (and are still on their two feet).
Some people say things
like ants or cockroaches will inherit the Earth. I’ve never bought that
bogey-man’s tale. Humanity’s self-destructive tendencies, no matter how awesome,
are just not effectively targeted at enough of its roots. In fact, I don’t see
how such a Final Solution could be managed, without outside (ie Alien)
intervention.
Anyhow, I’m talking about
Russia attacking the UK and the UK responding, as it certainly will. I’m not
counting on Amurrican or even NATO involvement. Perhaps if every single nuclear
armed state decided to deploy all its nuclear, chemical, biological and
conventional weapons in one fell swoop (as it were), some kind of tipping-point
would end humanity’s hold on existence. That does sound a bit stage-managed,
doesn’t it?
At the end of the
Peloponnesian War when Greeks - having seen off the mighty Persians - turned on
fellow Greeks and nearly tore each other apart, Athens must have seemed a
pretty desolate place. Most domestic animals had been slaughtered to feed a
starving populace, the vineyards burnt, wells poisoned, farms denuded of their
workers (ie the slaves had run off), temples desecrated and womenfolk left
tearing their hair out at the stupidity of it all. And yet, that era was a
high-point for what we call civilisation. Senseless destruction went
hand-in-hand with the creation of what we call history. OK, the scale of
warfare we are facing now is on an exponential upwards curve. Losing our nerve
in the face of ruthless dictatorship on one side and senseless populism on the other,
we might be forgiven for cowering underground, crossing our fingers and hoping
that the worst will somehow blow over, leaving just a few of our children’s
childrens’ children to emerge into a Brave New World. But that is all that’s
going to happen. ALL? Isn’t that enough? OK, get yourself a bolt-hole. But
don’t cower, it doesn’t suit us.
Putin isn’t Hitler. If he
were, he would have used The Bomb by now. Hitler would’ve had no qualms putting
nuclear warheads on his Doodle-bugs or V2 Rockets - if he’d had them. Putin is
a Stalinist, and Stalin quietly killed far more people than Hitler could boast
of. Hitler actually ordered his architect Speer to destroy what was left of
Germany as the allies closed in on the Reich. Speer, who masterminded the use
of slave labour, was spared the gallows because of this. The point is, who’s
going to carry out his last orders? Not the Russian navy, they’ll be too busy
saving their own bacon rinds. And there may never be a Nuremburg Trial at which
Putin and his gang are arraigned. So what!
Amurrica - ever late to
the party - having watched all the lights going off across the UK, will finally
step in and finish the job in Russia. Then China and India will rub their hands
and grab the territories to their north. The Turks will welcome Bukhara and
Alma-Ata back to the fold. The Northwest Frontier will move towards the Arctic
Circle. The Global South will heave a sigh of relief. Believe me, you don’t
have to be one of those right-wing, populist crazies to realise this. There is
no MAD, nothing is assured except a great tide of death and destruction.
Ukraine might even come out of it relatively unscathed to annex Belarus; and
Finland get back Eastern Karelia. In other words, the world will go mad, not
MAD.
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| No Mad No! |
In Philip Lee’s new installation at Tate
Owl, rapidly ageing verse stages a virtual attempt at staying up late. (When
the The Avengers with John Steed & Mrs. Peel were on, it was,
