This week I searched the bookcase and dusted off my copy of Nuclear War Survival Skills that I bought back in the 80s. Having turned 30 years old in 1984 and thinking I had lots of time ahead of me I ordered the book just in case the unthinkable happened. I was not about to slouch towards Bethlehem willingly, despite that rough beast whose hour may have come at last.

As I leafed through the pages a couple of random memories struck me, like a well placed critical mass of linear U-235 dominoes about to be toppled.

Nature is cruel. The balance of nature is brutal. Mankind broke the balance when it developed intellect. We climbed down from the trees, put a finger to the wind and decidedly began the long march to the edge of evolution. Clearly, IMHO, early on, ambition had already out-paced grey matter and set us on the course of nuclear roulette.

After millions of years, as humans tamed their environs, and after killing off the beasts that threatened them there was no longer any predators to keep humans in check. Surely there are exceptions on the micro scale of individual animal-to-human predation, but on the macro scale the only real predator mankind has to face is man himself. Of that, we are well accomplished, to the detriment of the downtrodden and to the benefit of the monied class. All animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.

War is observable in other species, ants and chimpanzees come quickly to mind. Are humans not a part of the natural world, despite the philosophical viewpoint of anthropocentrism? IMHO, we separate ourselves from nature at our own existential peril. The thin veneer of civilization may soon be torn away. If it does come to pass, that subjective separation will be put to a test with life on earth in the balance

Mankind has proclaimed itself the king of its domain. And like kings, we may be about to place the crown upon our heads.

From Shakespeare, spoken by King Henry IV Part 2 in act 3, scene 1:

And in the visitation of the winds,
Who take the ruffian billows by the top,
Curling their monstrous heads and hanging them
With deafening clamour in the slippery clouds,
That, with the hurly, death itself awakes?
Canst thou, O partial sleep, give thy repose
To the wet sea-boy in an hour so rude,
And in the calmest and most stillest night,
With all appliances and means to boot,
Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.

The king is complaining about his inability to sleep as war approaches. Ordinary people, even the humble cabin boy, have the blessing of a good night's sleep but even in the calm middle of the night, with all the comfort he has around him, he is denied that. Then good luck to those who have no cares, let them sleep. But he is a king and has to take the responsibility for what happens, and that keeps him awake at night.

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