Excursions into the mundane and revealing

October 30, 2009

A stunning achievement in 600 pages: The Storm of War

Filed under: desipundit,Second World War — ashujo @ 2:29 am

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The contemporary Second World War historian faces a monumental task. He must sort through the enormous literature on the most devastating conflict in human history, both known and recently unearthed, and then pick out the gems. He must then string these gems together into a narrative that strikes the right balance between offering all important details and yet not miring the reader in a dense thicket of minutiae. The achievement of this objective is the mark of a true historian, and in his new, stunningly succinct and yet comprehensive history of the Second World War, Andrew Roberts more than accomplishes this objective and reveals himself as a historian of the first rank, in the words of The Economist, “Britain’s finest military historian”.

What distinguishes Roberts’s book from other World War 2 histories is that it’s simply the most stunning encapsulation of every single front in the conflict in a relatively slim 600 pages. In his drive to leave no stone unturned and his capacity to compose brief portraits of key people and events, Roberts surpasses even eminent historian John Keegan. Roberts’s style is distinguished by terse, tightly knit chapters that deliver the goods in brief paragraphs and analyses. While generally chronological and covering each important front, the chapters also include separate ones on the Holocaust and on strategic bombing. A single, absolutely masterful chapter summarizes the conflict at the end. Bringing new information to bear on well-known events, Roberts provides striking new insights into the war and puts some long-harbored beliefs to rest.

The most important thread running through Robert’s retelling of the War constitutes the singular mistakes that Adolf Hitler made and his underlying motivations while also highlighting his strengths. Hitler had an unusually prodigious knowledge of military equipment and detail and was a shrewd controller of men; a striking example was when, in the aftermath of his victory over France, he suddenly promoted twelve generals to Field Marshals, thus generally diluting the distinguished character of the rank and emphasizing his dominion over his officers. However, whatever his strengths were were far overshadowed by the stupendous mistakes he made. Admittedly the greatest was to decide to attack the Soviet Union. Hitler completely underestimated the sheer tenacity of the ordinary Russian soldier and citizen and on the other side of the continent, also underestimated the tenacity of that tiny island named England. His second greatest mistake was to foolishly declare war on the United States. Here Hitler made an even more elementary error in underestimating the enormous resources and production capacity of the United States which soon started bolstering the great Soviet war machine as well as the British. Most importantly, Hitler committed both mistakes fueled by his essential Nazism and thirst for Lebensraum (living space) in the East. And the fundamental underlying ideology driving this thinking which finally drove a stake into his grand plans was his racial theory about inferior Slavs and Jews. It was this rabid racial ideology which prevented him from shrewdly taking advantage for instance of Eastern Russians’ contempt for Stalin’s regime and turning them into allies; instead Hitler assigned the feared Einsatzgruppen to essentially wipe out Russian towns from the map. These SS units participated in the wholesale personalized murder of a million Russians in 1941 alone, killing on a scale whose sheer personal nature and horrifying brutality dwarfs even the later industrialized gassings of The Holocaust. Roberts does a superb job of highlighting how it was this basic racial and xenophobic mentality that drove almost all of Hitler’s mistakes including most of his military ones.

Roberts also has revealing analyses of more tactical errors by Hitler. These include not ramping up U-boat production in time to possibly starve Britain and make her sue for peace, not focusing on fighter development without which his cherished bombers would not be effective, being almost blissfully indifferent to the Japanese whose help he could have considered in invading the Soviet Union, and of course his two cardinal tactical errors; letting the British get away at Dunkirk (Roberts demolishes the belief that Hitler did this because he was interested in peace negotiations with Britain) and even more importantly, halting the advance on Moscow in the summer of 1941, sudden driving his forces to the South. This miscalculation, combined with Stalingrad and the later great tank battle of Kursk, signaled the death knell for the Nazi regime.

Roberts also pays due attention to the Pacific theater of war including the incredibly bloody fighting at Guadalcanal, Iwo Jima and Okinawa. His discussion of this front includes a superb chapter on the Battle of Midway which was the turning point in the Pacific war, and most notably a detailed and riveting analysis of the more under-appreciated stage of the battle in Burma. The British response in Burma against a determined enemy in a sweltering thicket of tropical heat and rain forests was comparable to anything else in the War, and Roberts calls the defeat of the Japanese in Burma the “greatest gift that the British could have given India”. He also has detailed and tactically accomplished accounts of the war in North Africa, (against Rommel’s famed Afrika Corps), Normandy, Sicily and Italy and of the Ardennes offensive (The Battle of the Bulge) and the march towards Berlin. These accounts are interspersed with sharp portraits of men like FDR, Churchill, Eisenhower, Montgomery, Manstein, Rommel, Keitel and Goring.

Robert’s chapter on the U-boat war is particularly skilled and he carefully documents the initial disasters that befell the British navy in the Atlantic. The U-boats sank millions of tons of shipping, and if Hitler had stepped up production earlier he could have starved off Britain much sooner in the war. However, in the end it was not the resilience of the Royal Navy nor Germany’s increasingly dwindling war production capability that were decisive; it was a secret weapon that was developed by mathematician Alan Turing and his colleagues at Bletchley Park near London. It is difficult to overemphasize the absolutely crucial role that breaking the Enigma code of the Nazis played in the war. It is a silent undercurrent running through Roberts’s narrative but its overwhelming importance is clear; it was code-breaking that won the critical Battle of Midway, and it was code-breaking that proved pivotal not just in the U-boat battle but in North Africa and in Normandy. It was not the atomic bomb, not even radar, but the obscure code-breaking work of brilliant scientists toiling away in the utmost secrecy that really won the war.

Further on Roberts has separate chapters on the Holocaust and on strategic bombing. His chapter on the Holocaust is painful to read and captures the key facts, including why FDR avoided bombing the train tracks to Auschwitz; there was genuine concern about killing prisoners (concern that in hindsight seems misguided) and such bombing was seen as a diversion of bombers from German cities. Roberts’s analysis of strategic bombing is highly readable. Along with the atomic bombing of Japan, it’s strategic bombing that is the most controversial part of the Allied campaign in the war. The destruction of Hamburg and Dresden are well known (the latter made famous by Kurt Vonnegut’s “Slaughterhouse Five”). Roberts wisely avoids passing any moral judgement and simply analyses whether the carpet bombing of German cities worked, and whether it was necessary. The answer to the first question is decidedly yes. There is a clear correlation between dwindling German war production and air power and the Allied bombing campaign; the bombing also kept German aircraft away from the Eastern front. The answer to the second question is more ambiguous, but in hindsight provided by the first answer it too appears favourable. Certainly the number of people killed in German cities by bombing, while quite high, was dwarfed by ground losses on both Western and Eastern fronts.

If I have a minor gripe with the book, it is that Roberts could have added about a hundred more pages and fleshed out the chapters on Stalingrad and the Holocaust in more detail. No matter how many books you read about the War, the Eastern Front and the Holocaust comprise a set of events which constantly beggar belief by their sheer magnitudes and leave one’s mind shatteringly numbed. While 6 million Jews and others were murdered in an orgiastic frenzy of factory-like slaughter, 27 million Russians lost their lives in what can only be described as Dante’s worst nightmare, a sea of blood whose volume is unmatched in human history. Just one statistic puts the staggering Russian losses in perspective; for every American soldier who died on the battlefield, 60 Russian soldiers lost their lives. About a million men died at Stalingrad alone compared to half a million or so American soldiers in the entire War. At the same time, the unimaginable ferocity on the Eastern Front was possibly matched only by Josef Stalin’s own monstrous barbarity toward his own people; not even Hitler personally tortured and murdered hundreds of thousands of his own officers and generals for absolutely no reason. In the annals of twentieth century brutality nobody can match the excesses of Stalin, and these excesses manifested themselves dangerously in the complete lack of preparation the Soviet Union faced during the early Nazi onslaught. It was only the gargantuan resolve of ordinary Russian citizens and soldiers combined with the certain death at the hands of of their own officers that deserters would face (thanks to Stalin) that forced every Russian to fight for his life. The Nazi-Soviet conflict can only be seen through the lens of one of those mythical conflicts signaling the end of the world. While tomes have been published both on this conflict as well as the singular horror that was the Holocaust, Roberts has relatively brief (although highly well-informed) chapters on both topics and I thought that an addition of a hundred or so pages would have been a small sacrifice for some added narrative on these earth-shattering events.

But these are minor issues. In the purview of his analyses, the crisp and riveting style of his narrative and the comprehensive detailing of every single important front, battle and fact of this great conflict, Roberts is second to none. While Roberts’s basic thrust is to highlight Hitler’s tactical mistakes, his overweening racial ideology and his conflict with his generals, in retrospect of course such analysis is relatively easily enunciated. Just think of how we would have written history differently had the Nazis, God forbid, won the war. We would possibly be talking about French casualties by Allied bombing instead of British casualties in the Blitz (the former actually exceeded the latter), and General Mark Clark letting the Nazi tenth army get away in Italy instead of Hitler letting the British get away at Dunkirk. Given the capacity of Hitler’s armies, the experience and fighting capability of the German solider (probably the most well trained of any in the conflict), the superiority of German weaponry and the brilliance of his generals (of whom some like Manstein, Rommel and Guderin were regarded as the finest strategic minds on any side), it was by no means obvious that the Nazis would lose. But as Roberts’s overall message in the book indicates, in the end Adolf Hitler lost the war because of the same reason that he almost won it; because he was a Nazi.

I cannot recommend The Storm of War enough. The Second World War was a transformative event in human history that should be remembered until the end of time. It deserves the constant and passionate attention of the finest historians of their generations, and Andrew Roberts proves himself as one of the best of this class.

Note: The Storm of War is not available in the United States until 2011. It is available in Britain and can be ordered through the British Amazon.

June 30, 2007

Filed under: Bush,Chomsky,Harris,Hiroshima,intention,Second World War — ashujo @ 12:31 pm

ONLY GOOD INTENTIONS DO NOT COUNT

I have written about Sam Harris’s gripe with Noam Chomsky in a previous post, and indicated that I believe in a middle ground and consider both their arguments as valid ones; Harris’s that hatred of the US springs from faith, Chomsky’s that hatred of the US springs as a repurcussion to a long tradition of US imperialism. I am reading Harris’s magnificent “The End of Faith” currently, and got a chance to consider his critique of Chomsky in detail.

I in fact find myself agreeing with Harris on many counts. I agree that to consider the Clinton administration’s 1998 bombing of the Al Shifa pharmaceutical plant in Sudan as being “morally equivalent” to 9/11 is absurd, even if the act was not justified. The US has blood on its hands, no doubt a whole bloodbath, but Harris says that in very few cases have US intentions been to maim innocent civilians, and this is true. Maybe its aims were misguided, and operations certainly were sloppily carried out, but unlike attacks by terrorists, it is rarely that the US has intentionally aimed to cause the deaths of innocent civilians.

I think Harris is largely right, and that’s why I have always written about taking Chomsky with a healthy dose of salt. That’s why I have also on numerous occasions said that in the historical book of atrocities, the US would still be way down in the list. But at the same time I think it’s important to note that one cannot always put a high premium on noble intentions. For example, the intention of toppling Saddam’s Hussein’s regime was no doubt a valid and even noble one, especially when we consider it in a sanitized, isolated context; after all, there’s no doubt that he was a repressive monster. But does that mean that what Bush did was right, even assuming that he had the truly good intention of getting rid of a murderous tyrant?

No, and of course there are a variety of reasons, but especially one important reason, that intentions put into effect without thinking about consequences can still constitute immoral acts. In case of Bush, apart from the fact that he lied, he also did not think about the bloody and far-reaching consequences of his actions. Sometimes good intentions can have violent consequences, and carrying out those intentions without thinking about those consequences is as bad and irresponsible as having malevolent intentions.

The problem with putting such a high premium on good intentions also is that one can then justify many acts that are carried out under that rubric. In short, it can lead to the ends justifying the means. Many events in World War 2 are good examples; most notably the civilian bombing of Hamburg, Dresden and Tokyo, and the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Many historians now judge these acts as unnecessary and immoral. But one can always justify them by saying that the intention was to defeat Hitler or Imperial Japan, which was a good one. No doubt it was a good one, but that did not mean that any and every action in support of that intention was justified.

Intentions can be sterling, but actions carried out in their support cannot be justified and are irresponsible if one simply fails to neglect the devastating consequences that follow.

April 13, 2007

Filed under: atomic bomb,Dresden,Hamburg,Second World War,Tokyo — ashujo @ 1:31 am

THIS BOMB AND THAT ONE

It’s strange that just yesterday I was reading a few horrifying chapters from Inferno: The Devastation of Hamburg, 1943 by Keith Lowe, and today we hear about the death of a man whose claim to fame rests on a novel that’s based on the devastation of Dresden. Hamburg, Dresden, Tokyo, and finally Hiroshima, all dark chapters in the history of the twentieth century. But Lowe’s book really reminded me why opposition to dropping the atomic bomb cannot be completely unequivocal, albeit for a heartbreaking reason.

Lowe’s book details the destruction of Hamburg in July-August 1943, which was the most successful operation of the war for British Bomber Command. Hamburg, just like almost any other city, was engaged in some manufacturing of war material, and that pretext was enough for the Allies to cross the thin line between bombing military bases and bombing civilians, as it was enough for almost everybody else in the second world war.
Lowe devotes a full chapter to the unique and grotesque phenomenon that materialised in Hamburg on July 27, 1943, that was like nothing seen before. Technically, it was called a firestorm. On a personal level, it burnt memories in the minds of witnesses that are comparable to those evoked by any of the twentieth century’s other excesses.

A firestorm begins when fires caused by bombing unite to form a giant conflagration. Both the bombing conditions have to be intense enough and the atmospheric conditions have to be right enough for a firestorm to start. Under warm, dry conditions, fires that are initiated by incendiary bombing burn bright and hot. They combine to form one giant inferno, which superheats the air on top and around it. The hot air rises, but with such fury because of the temperature, that the surrounding air at ground level is sucked into the center of the fire at speeds exceeding 100 kmph. In Hamburg on that day, the winds that the air gave rise to reached almost 150 kmph.

The testimonies of witnesses that Lowe narrates describe what can only be called hell on earth. The winds suck people around into the fire and raze their bodies to their bones in minutes. The wind, having no easy way to escape because of the buildings, forms mini hurricanes around corners that toss people around like paper dolls before they are swept into the conflagration. In addition, all the oxygen that is around fuels the firestorm, and people die gasping several dozens of meters away. The temperatures in the firestorm in Hamburg reached 800 degrees celsius. Researchers later estimated that this was more than in any fire in the history of the world, including the great fires of London and Chicago. On the ground, the concrete and glass melted, and witnesses recall people who were running get their shoes stuck in the molten material. When they desperately removed their shoes, they faced an even more gruesome situation, with their legs getting grounded in the hot tar, after which they actually started to burn upwards from the bottom; just like flies who fall into hot wax, as someone said. We don’t really expect people to catch fire as quickly and easily as paper does, but that’s what happened in Hamburg. People who were close to phosphorus bombs had melting phosphorus fall on their eyes and skin, which burnt incessantly and bored its way into bone and internal organs. As they blindly ran, they were hit by flying debris that was getting sucked into the fire. Others had their hair catch fire, and ran around madly as their face melted, before they finally gave a scream and flopped dead. Fathers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters and brothers and sisters saw their loved ones dying every imaginable horrible death in front of their eyes.

At the end of the nightmare, 45,000 people were dead. After the fires subsided, workers could not get into air-raid shelters to drag decomposing bodies out; the maggots were so thick that they slid on them.

The reason that my thoughts turn to the atomic bomb is this; while 45,000 people died in the most horrifying manner in Hamburg, millions were dying on the Eastern front. The Russo-German war was the single most horrible and devastating war in history, with Stalingrad topping the list of killing by numbers. The end left 20 million Russians dead, including 10 million civilians. Thousands of miles way, in the Pacific, equally horrific battles were being fought; Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal. Curtis “Iron Ass” Le May decided he could do better than the British, and in March 1945, burnt 100,000 men, women and children in a single night in Tokyo. And we don’t even have to start recounting the fate of the millions who were being slaughtered in the Holocaust.

The main point in all this, is that by 1945, everyone had lost their morality. Everyone had sinned. Hitler may have been a monster, but on the ground, the British citizens in the Blitz and the German citizens in Hamurg and Dresden suffered equally. The estimate of one million soldiers that were going to die in the planned invasion of Japan in November 1945 may have been inflated, but no one can doubt that the toll would have been terrible, and would be yet another act of madness in a world gone half-mad. In Japan, twelve year old girls were being taught to fight with bamboo spears, and the Japanese had been programmed almost like zombies to kill or be killed. Under these circumstances, almost any end to the war would have been a pitifully welcome end.

That’s why, I don’t agree that dropping the atomic bomb was wrong for moral reasons. Or rather, I think it’s a trivial point; sure, of course it was wrong for moral reasons. But was it any worse than the unparalleled killing that had gone on before? At least the people close to the epicenter in Hiroshima would have had an instant and painless death, unlike almost everyone who horribly suffered in Hamburg and Tokyo. On the other hand, atomic radiation caused scars that would proliferate through genes and generation. But again, is that really any more immoral than burning alive a hundred thousand people in one night by sustained bombing? In my opinion, once the Allies took the decision of bombing civilians in large numbers, the moral line was crossed and the decision to drop the atomic bomb was already taken.

The real reason why I think dropping the bomb was wrong, was because the Japanese would probably have surrended if they had been allowed to keep their Emperor, which was a very important symbolic necessity for them. This would have been easy, as the Emperor had virtually no practical powers, inspite of being treated like a God. But there was a big cultural divide between the Orient and American understanding. Even though there were officials who realised the mentality of the Japanese, Washington did not take cognizance of this desire. What bothers me, and this was not the first time it happened, was the constant tendency of the Allies to fail to empathize with their enemy.

And here we really get to the heart of the matter, which turns away from morality and back again to plain old politics. After fifty years, it is increasingly clear that Truman was too preoccupied with thoughts of the superiority that his country would have with this new weapon, and with preventing the Russians from entering Japan. The atomic bomb would serve as the ultimate diplomatic gambit. A million Russians had already amassed on the Manchurian border; Truman had already given them Berlin, and he was not about to lose Japan to the Reds too. The atomic bomb would ensure an instantaneous Japanese surrender, and the Americans could quickly move in before the Russians. Preemptive diplomacy, that’s what the bomb really was. I don’t mean to say that Truman cared nothing about the Japanese, or that his concerns about loss of American life in the invasion of Japan were unwarranted. But the real driving force was quickly ending the war, and stopping the Russians from taking over Japan.

It is a sobering fact that, not for the first time in history, the fate of hundreds of thousands was decided on a military and political basis. If anything about dropping the bomb strikes a raw nerve, it’s that Truman did not exercise the patience that could have saved not just American lives but also all those in Hiroshima. As for the bomb, the Americans were superior to the Russians for many years, and the failure of almost every President after Truman to realise this ironically leveled the playing field. The dropping of the Nagasaki bomb was even more impulsive and premature, but again was done exactly for the same reasons.

Apart from this regret, Hiroshima was really another cauldron of brutality in a long line of cauldrons. Killing people by strategic bombing and killing people with atomic bombs, the principle is really the same. And that is one reason why, contrary to the hopes of those such as Niels Bohr and Robert Oppenheimer, the atomic bomb has not ended war. Perhaps it provides an element of swift and horrific shock like nothing else, but conventional war and genocide and ammunition can still uproot and kill millions. China, Vietnman, Cambodia, Rwanda, and Bosnia all bear testimony to this. Atomic bombs can provide deterrence, but they cannot stop us from killing each other. In this respect, the atomic bomb and the Hamburg phosphorus bomb both fit into the same paradigm. The least we can do is hope that our old ages have not been completely futile in giving us wisdom.

THIS BOMB AND THAT ONE It’s strange that just yes…

Filed under: atomic bomb,Dresden,Hamburg,Second World War,Tokyo — ashujo @ 1:31 am

THIS BOMB AND THAT ONE

It’s strange that just yesterday I was reading a few horrifying chapters from Inferno: The Devastation of Hamburg, 1943 by Keith Lowe, and today we hear about the death of a man whose claim to fame rests on a novel that’s based on the devastation of Dresden. Hamburg, Dresden, Tokyo, and finally Hiroshima, all dark chapters in the history of the twentieth century. But Lowe’s book really reminded me why opposition to dropping the atomic bomb cannot be completely unequivocal, albeit for a heartbreaking reason.

Lowe’s book details the destruction of Hamburg in July-August 1943, which was the most successful operation of the war for British Bomber Command. Hamburg, just like almost any other city, was engaged in some manufacturing of war material, and that pretext was enough for the Allies to cross the thin line between bombing military bases and bombing civilians, as it was enough for almost everybody else in the second world war.
Lowe devotes a full chapter to the unique and grotesque phenomenon that materialised in Hamburg on July 27, 1943, that was like nothing seen before. Technically, it was called a firestorm. On a personal level, it burnt memories in the minds of witnesses that are comparable to those evoked by any of the twentieth century’s other excesses.

A firestorm begins when fires caused by bombing unite to form a giant conflagration. Both the bombing conditions have to be intense enough and the atmospheric conditions have to be right enough for a firestorm to start. Under warm, dry conditions, fires that are initiated by incendiary bombing burn bright and hot. They combine to form one giant inferno, which superheats the air on top and around it. The hot air rises, but with such fury because of the temperature, that the surrounding air at ground level is sucked into the center of the fire at speeds exceeding 100 kmph. In Hamburg on that day, the winds that the air gave rise to reached almost 150 kmph.

The testimonies of witnesses that Lowe narrates describe what can only be called hell on earth. The winds suck people around into the fire and raze their bodies to their bones in minutes. The wind, having no easy way to escape because of the buildings, forms mini hurricanes around corners that toss people around like paper dolls before they are swept into the conflagration. In addition, all the oxygen that is around fuels the firestorm, and people die gasping several dozens of meters away. The temperatures in the firestorm in Hamburg reached 800 degrees celsius. Researchers later estimated that this was more than in any fire in the history of the world, including the great fires of London and Chicago. On the ground, the concrete and glass melted, and witnesses recall people who were running get their shoes stuck in the molten material. When they desperately removed their shoes, they faced an even more gruesome situation, with their legs getting grounded in the hot tar, after which they actually started to burn upwards from the bottom; just like flies who fall into hot wax, as someone said. We don’t really expect people to catch fire as quickly and easily as paper does, but that’s what happened in Hamburg. People who were close to phosphorus bombs had melting phosphorus fall on their eyes and skin, which burnt incessantly and bored its way into bone and internal organs. As they blindly ran, they were hit by flying debris that was getting sucked into the fire. Others had their hair catch fire, and ran around madly as their face melted, before they finally gave a scream and flopped dead. Fathers, husbands, wives, sons and daughters and brothers and sisters saw their loved ones dying every imaginable horrible death in front of their eyes.

At the end of the nightmare, 45,000 people were dead. After the fires subsided, workers could not get into air-raid shelters to drag decomposing bodies out; the maggots were so thick that they slid on them.

The reason that my thoughts turn to the atomic bomb is this; while 45,000 people died in the most horrifying manner in Hamburg, millions were dying on the Eastern front. The Russo-German war was the single most horrible and devastating war in history, with Stalingrad topping the list of killing by numbers. The end left 20 million Russians dead, including 10 million civilians. Thousands of miles way, in the Pacific, equally horrific battles were being fought; Okinawa, Iwo Jima, Guadalcanal. Curtis “Iron Ass” Le May decided he could do better than the British, and in March 1945, burnt 100,000 men, women and children in a single night in Tokyo. And we don’t even have to start recounting the fate of the millions who were being slaughtered in the Holocaust.

The main point in all this, is that by 1945, everyone had lost their morality. Everyone had sinned. Hitler may have been a monster, but on the ground, the British citizens in the Blitz and the German citizens in Hamurg and Dresden suffered equally. The estimate of one million soldiers that were going to die in the planned invasion of Japan in November 1945 may have been inflated, but no one can doubt that the toll would have been terrible, and would be yet another act of madness in a world gone half-mad. In Japan, twelve year old girls were being taught to fight with bamboo spears, and the Japanese had been programmed almost like zombies to kill or be killed. Under these circumstances, almost any end to the war would have been a pitifully welcome end.

That’s why, I don’t agree that dropping the atomic bomb was wrong for moral reasons. Or rather, I think it’s a trivial point; sure, of course it was wrong for moral reasons. But was it any worse than the unparalleled killing that had gone on before? At least the people close to the epicenter in Hiroshima would have had an instant and painless death, unlike almost everyone who horribly suffered in Hamburg and Tokyo. On the other hand, atomic radiation caused scars that would proliferate through genes and generation. But again, is that really any more immoral than burning alive a hundred thousand people in one night by sustained bombing? In my opinion, once the Allies took the decision of bombing civilians in large numbers, the moral line was crossed and the decision to drop the atomic bomb was already taken.

The real reason why I think dropping the bomb was wrong, was because the Japanese would probably have surrended if they had been allowed to keep their Emperor, which was a very important symbolic necessity for them. This would have been easy, as the Emperor had virtually no practical powers, inspite of being treated like a God. But there was a big cultural divide between the Orient and American understanding. Even though there were officials who realised the mentality of the Japanese, Washington did not take cognizance of this desire. What bothers me, and this was not the first time it happened, was the constant tendency of the Allies to fail to empathize with their enemy.

And here we really get to the heart of the matter, which turns away from morality and back again to plain old politics. After fifty years, it is increasingly clear that Truman was too preoccupied with thoughts of the superiority that his country would have with this new weapon, and with preventing the Russians from entering Japan. The atomic bomb would serve as the ultimate diplomatic gambit. A million Russians had already amassed on the Manchurian border; Truman had already given them Berlin, and he was not about to lose Japan to the Reds too. The atomic bomb would ensure an instantaneous Japanese surrender, and the Americans could quickly move in before the Russians. Preemptive diplomacy, that’s what the bomb really was. I don’t mean to say that Truman cared nothing about the Japanese, or that his concerns about loss of American life in the invasion of Japan were unwarranted. But the real driving force was quickly ending the war, and stopping the Russians from taking over Japan.

It is a sobering fact that, not for the first time in history, the fate of hundreds of thousands was decided on a military and political basis. If anything about dropping the bomb strikes a raw nerve, it’s that Truman did not exercise the patience that could have saved not just American lives but also all those in Hiroshima. As for the bomb, the Americans were superior to the Russians for many years, and the failure of almost every President after Truman to realise this ironically leveled the playing field. The dropping of the Nagasaki bomb was even more impulsive and premature, but again was done exactly for the same reasons.

Apart from this regret, Hiroshima was really another cauldron of brutality in a long line of cauldrons. Killing people by strategic bombing and killing people with atomic bombs, the principle is really the same. And that is one reason why, contrary to the hopes of those such as Niels Bohr and Robert Oppenheimer, the atomic bomb has not ended war. Perhaps it provides an element of swift and horrific shock like nothing else, but conventional war and genocide and ammunition can still uproot and kill millions. China, Vietnman, Cambodia, Rwanda, and Bosnia all bear testimony to this. Atomic bombs can provide deterrence, but they cannot stop us from killing each other. In this respect, the atomic bomb and the Hamburg phosphorus bomb both fit into the same paradigm. The least we can do is hope that our old ages have not been completely futile in giving us wisdom.

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