I got terrified of nuclear war in my early teens. Oddly enough, it was Frankie Goes To Hollywood's Two Tribes video, the one with Reagan and Chernenko wrestling, which sparked it off. For some reason, the sight of two fat, elderly men grunting together in a ring really brought home the threat. For years afterwards I listened trembling for the sound of air raid sirens. I didn't ask if York still had any air raid sirens, which it almost certainly didn't. I just assumed I would hear them. When I though I did one morning, I got a hell of a fright. It just turned out to be one of the new US-style police sirens. They might have warned me.
It was a good period to have nuclear fears, I learned later. In the mid 1980's the Cold War was hotter than any time since the early 60's. All my generation lacked were our equivalent of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Or so I thought until watching Channel 4's excellent documentary 1983: The Brink of Apocalypse last night. It turned out we had one after all. They just never told anyone.
The program meticulously plotted the events which created the atmosphere of 1983. Reagan helped start it, of course. After his election he behaved like any unbalanced old gentleman let out of the home, swaggering over the place stroking himself and introducing useful concepts like 'good' and 'evil' into international diplomacy. He ordered missiles to be built which were bigger, faster and painted in the colours of his own penis. He also started the 'Star Wars' program, a plan to shoot down missiles from space. This terrified the USSR as it would totally negate their nuclear deterrent and leave them helpless. The Soviet leadership, if anything even more elderly and senile than Reagan, retreated into full paranoia. Under the quivering command of Andropov, a man I only recall from an unfunny gangrene joke, they ordered their spies to actively search for signs that the West was planning war.
Unfortunately, their intelligence was terrible and ours was little better. Soviet spies performed tricks like count how many lights were on at the Ministry of Defence each night. If a lot were burning, one British commander pointed out, it usually meant the cleaners were hoovering the floors. The spies took it as a sign that our leaders were in there, plotting domination and cackling. We had a single double agent who could actually tell us what the Soviet politburo were thinking. We seemed to meet with him for half an hour once every other month. And staffed by moral absolutists on both sides, the notion of the governments actually talking to each other had become laughable.
In 1983 America invaded Grenada largely to prove they could. The USSR shot down a domestic Korean plane which was simply lost and was already heading out of Soviet air space. And one night a Russian monitoring station received a message from its spy satellite. Five missiles had been launched from America, one after another. The base commander override the message, reasoning that if missiles came they would come 14,000 all at once. He was right to assume a malfunction. The satellite computer had confused missiles with clouds, as one does. But a less stubborn or sensible man might have panicked and started the sequence which led to 'retaliation.' Suddenly the lyrics of Nina's 99 Red Balloons seem slightly less ludicrous.
And in this climate, NATO chose to hold huge war games called Operation Able Archer in west Germany. War games were common enough. They mocked up the conditions of nuclear attack, mainly to test communications between bases. In 1941, though, Nazi Germany had invaded the USSR initially under the guise of war games. 42 years later, the Kremlin decided was being repeated, though not as farce. Intercepted messages between NATO bases were treated as actual orders. The Soviet nuclear bases, submarines and bombers were put on red alert. The West noted these preparations but just chuckled, assuming rival war games. They continued taking Able Archer to its conclusion. As they did, Andropov's finger crept closer and closer to the red button. And then…
Then Able Archer simply ended. The Soviet generals, one assumes, simply dithered long enough to realise their mistake. They all went home again, presumably avoiding each other's faces. The next time the West met their double agent, they found out what had almost happened and got the shock of their lives. Even Reagan decided it was wise to start talking with the enemy again.
That's how our civilisation almost ended though. In a swamp of paranoia, miscommunication, incompetence and macho posturing. With both a bang and a whimper of "Eh? What?" I'm glad of the escape but you have to admit, it would have been fitting.
It was a good period to have nuclear fears, I learned later. In the mid 1980's the Cold War was hotter than any time since the early 60's. All my generation lacked were our equivalent of the Cuban Missile Crisis. Or so I thought until watching Channel 4's excellent documentary 1983: The Brink of Apocalypse last night. It turned out we had one after all. They just never told anyone.
The program meticulously plotted the events which created the atmosphere of 1983. Reagan helped start it, of course. After his election he behaved like any unbalanced old gentleman let out of the home, swaggering over the place stroking himself and introducing useful concepts like 'good' and 'evil' into international diplomacy. He ordered missiles to be built which were bigger, faster and painted in the colours of his own penis. He also started the 'Star Wars' program, a plan to shoot down missiles from space. This terrified the USSR as it would totally negate their nuclear deterrent and leave them helpless. The Soviet leadership, if anything even more elderly and senile than Reagan, retreated into full paranoia. Under the quivering command of Andropov, a man I only recall from an unfunny gangrene joke, they ordered their spies to actively search for signs that the West was planning war.
Unfortunately, their intelligence was terrible and ours was little better. Soviet spies performed tricks like count how many lights were on at the Ministry of Defence each night. If a lot were burning, one British commander pointed out, it usually meant the cleaners were hoovering the floors. The spies took it as a sign that our leaders were in there, plotting domination and cackling. We had a single double agent who could actually tell us what the Soviet politburo were thinking. We seemed to meet with him for half an hour once every other month. And staffed by moral absolutists on both sides, the notion of the governments actually talking to each other had become laughable.
In 1983 America invaded Grenada largely to prove they could. The USSR shot down a domestic Korean plane which was simply lost and was already heading out of Soviet air space. And one night a Russian monitoring station received a message from its spy satellite. Five missiles had been launched from America, one after another. The base commander override the message, reasoning that if missiles came they would come 14,000 all at once. He was right to assume a malfunction. The satellite computer had confused missiles with clouds, as one does. But a less stubborn or sensible man might have panicked and started the sequence which led to 'retaliation.' Suddenly the lyrics of Nina's 99 Red Balloons seem slightly less ludicrous.
And in this climate, NATO chose to hold huge war games called Operation Able Archer in west Germany. War games were common enough. They mocked up the conditions of nuclear attack, mainly to test communications between bases. In 1941, though, Nazi Germany had invaded the USSR initially under the guise of war games. 42 years later, the Kremlin decided was being repeated, though not as farce. Intercepted messages between NATO bases were treated as actual orders. The Soviet nuclear bases, submarines and bombers were put on red alert. The West noted these preparations but just chuckled, assuming rival war games. They continued taking Able Archer to its conclusion. As they did, Andropov's finger crept closer and closer to the red button. And then…
Then Able Archer simply ended. The Soviet generals, one assumes, simply dithered long enough to realise their mistake. They all went home again, presumably avoiding each other's faces. The next time the West met their double agent, they found out what had almost happened and got the shock of their lives. Even Reagan decided it was wise to start talking with the enemy again.
That's how our civilisation almost ended though. In a swamp of paranoia, miscommunication, incompetence and macho posturing. With both a bang and a whimper of "Eh? What?" I'm glad of the escape but you have to admit, it would have been fitting.
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