Late Night Thoughts on Listening to Mahler’s Ninth Symphony
Perhaps you have seen the ad currently running on TV for
some insurance company – a man chainsaws a limb that falls on his neighbor’s
car; a woman opens her car door, and someone plows the door off; then a voice
says, “Humans. Even when we dot our “i’s” and dot our “t’s”, we still run into
problems. Namely, other humans.”
Every August I remember August 6 and August 9: Little Boy
and Fat Man destroyed Hiroshima and Nagasaki. President Harry Truman made the
decision. Truman was said to be a faithful Baptist. Jesus instructs us to love
our enemies. Some six hundred years before Jesus, during what is called The
Axial Age (coined by Karl Jaspers to describe that time period when people like
Buddha, Confucius, Lao T’zu, Socrates, and the Hebrew Prophets were all roaming
the Earth and changing the way we think about life and our lives), Isaiah wrote
of beating swords into ploughshares and teaching war no more (Isaiah 2:4).
So here we are some 2,600 years later still armed to the
teeth, nuclear warheads still loaded and coordinates set. More nations like
India and Pakistan, and likely even North Korea and Israel have nuclear
weapons, with others like Iran working overtime to build their own nuclear
“devices.”
Devices sounds less threatening than “bombs” or “warheads.”
Devices sounds less threatening than “bombs” or “warheads.”
We know what happened in August 1945 because the survivors
have given eyewitness accounts in books such as John Hersey’s Hiroshima, and
Unforgettable Fire, a book of sketches and paintings by survivors. “The survived and made their drawings thirty
years later. With one of today’s bombs they would all have been vaporized
within a fraction of a second after the explosion. What they recall most
vividly, and draw most heartrendingly, are the deaths all around them, the
collapsed buildings, and above all the long black strips of skin hanging from
the arms and torsos of those still alive. They remember the utter hopelessness,
the inability of anyone to help anyone else, the loneliness of the injured
alongside the dying. Reading their accounts and wincing at the pictures, one
gains the sure sense that no society, no matter how intricately structured,
could have coped with that event. No matter how many doctors and hospitals
might have been in place and ready to help with medical technology before
hand…at the moment of the fireball all of that help would have vanished in the
new sun. As for the radioactivity, a single case of near-lethal radiation can occasionally
be saved today by the full resources of a highly specialized, tertiary hospital
unit, with endless transfusions and bone-marrow transplants. But what to do
about a thousand such cases all at once,
or a hundred thousand? Not to mention the more conventionally maimed and burned
people, in the millions. Words like ‘disaster’ and ‘catastrophe” are too frivolous
for the events that would inevitably follow a war with thermonuclear weapons.
‘Damage’ is not the real term; the language has no name for it. Individuals
might survive, but ‘survival’ is itself the wrong word.” (The Unforgettable
Fire, from Lewis Thomas, Late Night Thoughts on Listening to Mahler’s Ninth
Symphony: Viking Press, New York:1983) p. 5-6.
It was thought that Hiroshima was spared the regular
fire-bombing which most other Japanese cities experienced because it was a
known Buddhist religious center. After the bombing it became clear that it was
spared conventional destruction so as to be able to measure and record the
effects of the new weaponry – a human experiment that lives on in the lives of
the survivors to this day.
Fifty years ago Martin Luther King, Jr delivered his I Have
A Dream Speech. He gave others decrying
our commitment to war while Americans go hungry every day living in poverty.
After building a monument to King on the National Mall, the words inscribed on
the base of the monument have been sandblasted off, so divided are we even
about how to remember the individual who called us to settle our differences
with non-violence.
Whenever anyone tries to bring the danger of all this to our
attention, we are urged to allow ourselves to be distracted by insignificant
issues, or they are simply censored from speaking out. Harry Belafonte on the
Smothers Brothers TV Hour tried. CBS refused to broadcast the segment. Pete Seeger tried with Waist Deep in the Big
Muddy, and with Joe Hickerson penned Where Have All The Flowers Gone. Not to
mention The Kingston Trio and the Merry Minuet: “But we can be thankful, and
tranquil and proud, for man’s been endowed with a mushroom shaped cloud/And we
know for certain that some lovely day, someone will set the spark off – and we
will all be blown away.”
It’s August again. Humans. Like in the insurance ad, humans
make mistakes, commit errors. And yet, it is humans who are entrusted with the
codes and decisions to use strategic and tactical thermonuclear weapons. Humans
who even now appear to be using chemical weapons. Loaded in silos, loaded on
submarines, humans are in place to “set the spark off.” We still laugh when
Peter Sellers shouts out in Dr. Strangelove that “we must not have a mineshaft
gap,” supposing that we could somehow sequester enough people underground to
emerge from a nuclear attack and rebuild civilization – while deep down inside
we know there would be no civilization to rebuild.
Every August we must remember. Again, Lewis Thomas concludes, “Carve in the
stone of the cenotaph in Hiroshima are the words: REST IN PEACE, FOR THE
MISTAKE WILL NOT BE REPEATED. The inscription has a life of its own. Intended
first as a local prayer and promise, it has already changed its meaning into a
warning, and is now turning into a threat.” p..11
It is August. August is a time to remember. And a time to
ask ourselves once again, “When will we ever learn, when will we ever learn.”
Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment