EDITORIAL Christmas hope amid lingering weapons
"Peace on earth" is a phrase of the season, a sentiment, an idea,
a hope that, once a year, we allow to poke through the white noise of everyday
life. Diane Sylvain put it another way in her Christmas reflection on page two
-- "This is what it comes down to: At the darkest time of year, the light
breaks through."
Sight, sound -- indeed all the senses -- seem to tingle a bit more
with expectation this time of year. And if our imaginations can soar to new
vistas of peace, cooperation and understanding, we know the hope that sustains
the imagination is earned in smaller increments, on the ground, in the
day-to-day work. Gospel love and hope never move for very long from the hubbub
of the public square.
So it was significant, though too little noted, that Army Gen.
Andrew Goodpaster, former supreme allied commander in Europe, and Air Force
Gen. George Lee Butler, former commander in chief of the U.S. Strategic Air
Command, both retired, appeared together Dec. 4 at the National Press Club in
Washington. It is unlikely that either had the liturgical calendar in mind, but
from their words -- a call for the total abolition of all nuclear weapons -- a
little light broke through this Advent season.
The threat of nuclear war, which caused nightsweats and brought
Christians and others to the barricades during the Cold War, has receded from
our consciousness. But as Goodpaster warned, "The risks that are inherent in
nuclear weapons have continued and in some ways increased" in the days since
the fall of communism.
Those risks include the possibilities of accident, of seizure or
theft of weapons and the fear that they could spread to additional nations.
Ironically, the warnings today come not only from the persistent
religious prophets who have been crying out in the nuclear wilderness for
decades, but from those who have been on the other side -- generals who helped
design the nuclear forces and whose fingers were never far from the ultimate
trigger.
The generals call for phased weapons reductions "consistent with
stable security, as rapidly as world conditions permit," removal of the weapons
from "alert status," and placing the warheads in "controlled storage" as
negotiations for further reductions continue.
The ultimate objective is "complete elimination of nuclear weapons
from all nations," a project that admittedly could take many years.
Even with a long timeline, the language of these generals paints
the long-haul task as essential.
"I'm here today," said Butler, "because I feel the weight of a
special obligation in these matters, a responsibility born of unique
experience.
"Over the last 27 years of my military career, I was embroiled in
every aspect of American nuclear policymaking and force structuring, from the
highest counsels of government to military command centers, from the
negotiating table to cramped bomber cockpits and the confines of ballistic
missile silos and submarines. I spent years studying nuclear weapons' effects.
I've inspected dozens of operational units. I've certified hundreds of crews
for their nuclear missions. And I have approved thousands upon thousands of
targets for nuclear destruction. ... As an adviser to the president on the
employment of nuclear weapons, I've anguished over the imponderable
complexities, the profound moral dilemmas and the mind-numbing compression of
decision-making under the threat of nuclear attack."
The language quickly turns apocalyptic, the kind of language that
was flowing from religious communities -- and being dismissed by the military
as naive and simplistic -- while the generals were overseeing the building and
deployment of the nuclear nightmare.
Butler said his concern is compelled by "a growing alarm that
despite all of the evidence, we have yet to fully grasp the monstrous effect of
these weapons, that the consequences of their use defy reason, transcending
time and space, poisoning the Earth and deforming its inhabitants."
Accepting the existence of these weapons as a technological
inevitability carries too high a price, he said. "Accepting nuclear weapons as
the ultimate arbiter of conflict condemns the world to live under a dark cloud
of perpetual anxiety. Worse, it codifies mankind's most murderous instincts as
a legitimate basis of warfare."
The generals might well be adding an updated chapter to the U.S.
bishops' pastoral on war and peace.
In religious communities, particularly among those who have paid a
high price in careers and jail time for their protests, the message and the
arguments are well-worn. These folks were the first to confront the conscience
of humankind with the full dimensions of evil inherent in such weapons.
But the generals bring a specific credibility to the argument that
while the rhetoric of the Cold War has subsided, military thinking about
security needs has remained fairly entrenched in outdated categories. "Foremost
among these policies, deterrence reigns unchallenged, with its embedded
assumptions of hostility and its preference for forces on high states of
alert."
The generals, and they are not the first military figures in
recent years to do so, say the goal can be nothing less than abolition of
nuclear forces -- a goal requiring radical rethinking of security needs and
what they require.
It is a leap of thinking and imagination that can only be
sustained outside the circles of government, military and industry that
currently sustain the status quo. The religious community's continued
insistence on peace -- grudging step by grudging step -- will be necessary if
we are to build on disarmament already achieved.
Christians know that gospel hope burns brightest when it shines
through at the moment of greatest jeopardy. The dismantling of the Berlin Wall
and the movement of peoples in Eastern Europe toward democracy in the last
decade showed that the human instinct for freedom is impossible to extinguish.
That instinct, buoyed against all odds by the birth of the Prince of Peace two
millennia ago, compels us to continue working for freedom from this threat of
ultimate annihilation. The generals shone a small beam into our Advent this
year. We can help that light grow.
National Catholic Reporter, December 20,
1996
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