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April 30, 2005 ~ Nuclear Propaganda Reels
Saturday.
A bright white flash, then slowly the world started to solidify again, the three houses darkened back into view. Smoke crept up along the walls from the paint that was singed in the flash. Then the shockwave hit, and the houses were instantly flattened. Dust, all was dust, one couldn't see a foot through the dust. A moment later the wind reversed direction, sucking the dust backwards, back toward the epicenter of the explosion. The houses, needless to say, were no longer there.
Morgan and I have been watching, this week, several videos of old press releases and propaganda reels from the forties, fifties, and sixties about nuclear tests and nuclear bombs. Some were safety films: "duck and cover," how civil servants can help you in the event of a nuclear attack, what to do if your city is bombed, and safety procedures for different locals such as home, school, or street. Some were propaganda reels with patriotic music telling the wonders of "man's progress in the nuclear age" ("man," I suppose, was a designation that only US citizens and their allies could claim?). Some bragged of the United States military superiority because of nuclear weapons. Others were informative, about all of the other useful things that nuclear technology can do. Some were serene, easing fears; others were terrifying, emphasizing just how horrible a nuclear attack would be if "the enemy" were to succeed in attacking US soil. How odd it is, watching them now that we know what we know.
Mainly, I was struck by two things. How frightening all of the propaganda must have been at the time: watching those reels, truly believing that a devastating nuclear attack could come at any time. Yet, at the same time, so much of it was painted with such an optimistic, happy tint overall. The newsreels showed a remarkable naiveté as to just how truly destructive nuclear weaponry could be. As scary as it must have been to watch those reels, they had no idea, really, back then, of how destructive and long lasting the invisible effects of nuclear weaponry could be.
Several of the news clips showed nuclear test explosions with thousands of soldiers on site. Some flew through the radioactive cloud, gathering information on instruments. Others on the ground had only a trench to "protect them from the radiation." And as soon as the blast was over, they all went charging out of the trench, into ground zero to examine the damage. They spend days analyzing, examining, measuring--plenty of time for nuclear fallout to settle over them. It wasn't as if they had any sort of special suits; they were completely exposed, with only their cotton uniforms to shield them. I would not be surprised if they all died shortly thereafter from radiation poisoning or cancer. It was as if, back then, they didn't think that nuclear fallout was unhealthy. One reel showed footage of the soldiers coming out of the blast site, and stopping so that other soldiers could "sweep the radiation off of them" with brooms and brushes. As if the sweep of a broom is sufficient protection from radiation!
Another film was aimed at a child's comprehension level, to explain nuclear technology. At one point in the film, when talking of nuclear radiation, they announcer said, "Nuclear radiation is not dangerous in small amounts. For instance, the sun gives off radiation, but the amount of radiation from the sun is so slight that it amounts to absolutely no danger to humans." I wonder what someone with skin cancer from exposure to ultra violet radiation from the sun would have to say about that little gem now...
And oh, don't even get me started on the damage all of that testing did to various landscapes, home and abroad. The assumption that there is nothing to harm in a desert, no ecosystem to throw into disarray with several nuclear explosions, makes me incredibly sad. Mainly because we still haven't learned that lesson. Deserts are still abused in similar ways because they "aren't alive."
Out of all of them, there was one reel that left me truly disgusted that it was a part of my country's history. The film was shot in Hiroshima and Nagasaki after their destruction, and it detailed the damage that my country's two bombs had done to those cities. Most of the reports (granted, also propaganda) that one can read or see today about those two nuclear attacks talk with regret concerning the civilian casualties caused by those two bombs. They emphasize the military targets and have an apologetic and embarrassed tone when acknowledging the massive human loss suffered. Not this film, however.
It bragged of how the bombs were detonated at a certain precise altitude to "maximize damage and casualties." It spoke of hundreds of thousands dead as if they weren't human, as if they were some sort of score to a sports game. They interviewed survivors, who spoke of the extreme suffering they had endured thanks to the bomb, and the announcer's emphasis was far from compassion; instead, he focused on how wonderful it is that the United States has the power to cause such extreme suffering. Dehumanizing. It was all so very dehumanizing.
At the end of the film, a US official stood on a bridge, outlining in chalk on the pavement below the shadow of a man who had disintegrated in the blast. The announcer spoke with no respect for the human being who had died on that spot, only pride in the military might that the United States had gained through nuclear weaponry, might that could disintegrate a human being so that only his shadow was left.
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