The Fallout of Fear: 'Duck and Cover'

A Personal Perspective: History shows nuclear war menaces.

By Greg O’Brien

"There is no such thing as paranoia. Your worst fears can come true at any moment."
— the late journalist and author Hunter S. Thompson

With nuclear war saber-rattling today from Russia, China, Iran, North Korea, and third-world countries seeking to develop the means to hurl nuclear missiles toward the United States at a moment’s notice, the fallout of fear envelops many of us.

This dread is nothing new for Baby Boomers of the 1950s and ’60s. In the naivete of the day, we were simply taught to “duck and cover!”

To millennials and those born after 1994, the term “duck and cover” might relate more to watching a historic playoff between the Yankees and Red Sox from the third baseline–ducking deep into the seats on a stinging line-drive foul ball, hoisting a baseball mitt in hopes of catching a prize.

Yet to us Baby Boomers, the admonition had everything to do with the threatened end-of-the-world nuclear apocalypse.

As nine-year-old fourth graders at Resurrection Catholic Grammar School in Rye, New York, just outside Manhattan, we were drilled by the daunting Sisters of Charity on the perils of the Cold War and escalating fears of the nuclear arms race between the United States and the Soviet Union at a time when most of us, frankly, preferred to watch Dennis the Menace on our black and white family televisions with the rabbit ears spread apart for better reception.

But “duck and cover” prevailed at Resurrection–an iconic school name, given matters at hand.

In 1951, six years after nuclear bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, the Federal Civic Defense Administration produced a deluded government film, Duck and Cover, to teach schoolchildren what to do in the event of a nuclear bomb attack. Those from this era know firsthand the anxiety of the day. The film, by way of the cartoon character Bert the Turtle, taught us to duck under our wooden desks and cover our heads with a book or a single sheet of paper!

What were they thinking? Bert the Turtle had small arms.

Then, in October 1962, fears once again ramped up with the Cuban Missile Crisis, when the Soviet Union began constructing missile sites in Cuba that were directed at the United States. In response, President Kennedy placed a naval blockade–a ring of destroyers–around Cuba, demanding the missiles be removed. For 13 days that October the world held its collective breath to see who would blink first.

At this point, no one was buying “duck and cover.” The nuns punted, directing all students, from kindergarten through eighth grade, to seek shelter in the dark and dank basement of the adjacent Church of the Resurrection, a Gothic stone cathedral with all the mystery of the Land of Oz. We were led, one-by-one, row-by-row, at the hand of church sexton John Quinn–a gnarly Irishman with a brogue as thick as Guinness and looking a bit like Bilbo Baggins in Lord of the Rings.

That basement was filled with enough cobwebs to creep out Stephen King. In my bountiful imagination, I pondered what would be a worse fate: being vaporized by a nuclear warhead or at the mercy of what must have been scores of rats.

Finally, Soviet premier Nikita Khrushchev consented to remove nuclear missile sites from Cuba if the United States promised not to invade Cuba and to withdraw missiles from Turkey. President Kennedy acquiesced, and the U.S. missiles were removed. Though the missile trauma had ended, the nuclear arms race was in hyperdrive.

Today the fallout of fear swirls again with Russian President Vladimir Putin threatening to use nuclear weapons in the war against Ukraine, his suspension of Nuclear-Arms Treaty talks between Russia and the U.S., Russia’s downing of a U.S. surveillance drone in international waters of the Black Sea, and China’s alarming nuclear buildup. “China will likely have a stockpile of 1,500 nuclear warheads by 2035 if it continues with its current nuclear buildup pace, according to a report released by the Pentagon,” Reuters reported several months ago.

A look back at history shows that nuclear war menaces, real or imagined, have been a part of the political scene since 1945. Often, the threats came from us. These threats are chronicled in a retrospective report titled, “U.S. Nuclear Threats: Then and Now.” It was prepared by Robert S. Norris of the Natural Resources Defense Council (NRDC) and Hans M. Kristensen of the Federation of American Scientists. Among them is the “Mad Man” theory–a political concept commonly associated with President Nixon’s foreign policy.

Nixon and his administration tried to make the leaders of the hostile Communist Bloc nations think he was “irrational” and “volatile” with nuclear weapons. “Nixon was convinced that his power would be enhanced if his opponents thought he might use excessive force, even nuclear force,” according to analysts William Burr and Jeffrey Kimball, quoted in the Natural Resources Defense Council piece.

Sound familiar?

For decades, the fallout of fear has had staying power–keeping hands off the button. But will it always?

Today, true or not, many observers suggest Putin, while incessantly reckless and arrogant, would not start a nuclear war because it would mark the end of his vile reign. Yet rogue nations now developing nuclear arms programs also pose a menacing threat. Years ago, President Obama warned, “The single most important national security threat we face is nuclear weapons falling into the hands of terrorists.” Former Secretary of Defense Robert Gates responded when asked what keeps him awake at night: “It’s the thought of a terrorist ending up with a weapon of mass destruction.”

What’s the answer?

I wish I knew. And I’m not alone in this–a question tantamount to “How many angels can dance on the head of a pin?”

Though, in this time of nuclear escalation, the need is clear to circle the wagons with NATO and free world countries and to educate worldwide on the collective repercussions of a nuclear attack. Then, walk in faith, wherever that leads one.

Said President Kennedy on January 20, 1961, “Let us never negotiate out of fear. But let us never fear to negotiate.”

In the meantime, duck and cover.

(This piece ran in Psychology Today.)