World War II cast a long shadow, and my generation was born
in the aftermath. Then the shadow burgeoned into a decades-long frenzy of
terror of communism. The Soviet Union was the incarnation of evil, of course, and
war was ever imminent. Not just any war, though, for the atomic genie had been
released from its bottle. The world came perilously close on a number of
occasions. In between crises, every international twitch was scrutinized,
analyzed, and dissected. Meanwhile, we kids were practicing “duck and cover,”
as if hiding under a school desk could protect us from a nuclear blast.
Presidents came and presidents went, and the threat of
annihilation waxed and waned but never left us. We focused on smaller wars
where we had the illusion we could actually change the world. As it turned out,
all those protest marches against the Viet Nam War did make a difference in the
end, although at the time it didn’t seem so. In retrospect, I believe the sense
of powerlessness and insignificance caused as much damage to our confidence in
the future as any military threat. Which is not to say that the threat of
nuclear war was not real, but rather that my generation internalized it in a
way that left us vulnerable to being triggered by other events.
Humans aren’t very good at estimating the relative danger of
various things. We exaggerate some risks and minimize others. Some dangers
frighten us out of all proportion to the odds of them happening to us. We
casually ignore other things that are much more likely to injure or kill us. The
possibility of war and its affect on us, personally and nationally and
globally, is no exception. We panic or we shrug or we pretend or we drive our
fears into our subconscious minds, where they erupt as irrational behavior or
nightmares.
