“A 1-megaton thermonuclear weapon detonation begins with a flash of light and heat so tremendous it is impossible for the human mind to comprehend… In the first fraction of a millisecond after this thermonuclear bomb strikes the Pentagon outside Washington, D.C., there is light. Soft x-ray light with a very short wavelength. The light superheats the surrounding air to millions of degrees, creating a massive fireball that expands at millions of miles per hour. Within a few seconds, this fireball increases to a diameter of a little more than a mile…its light and heat so intense that concrete surfaces explode, metal objects melt or evaporate, stone shatters, humans instantaneously convert into combusting carbon…”
- Annie Jacobsen, Nuclear War: A Scenario
In Nuclear War, Annie Jacobsen attempts to imagine an event that has never happened, but that could happen, and that if it does happen, will only happen once: the doomsday of a full-scale nuclear exchange.
There is a robust genre of post-apocalyptic books, movies, video games, and television shows dwelling on the aftermath of a war waged with atomic weapons. In Nuclear War, Jacobsen goes a different route, envisaging how the war itself would unfold. As such, this is a tough title to classify. Though it is deeply researched, it is also speculative, meaning it is not true nonfiction. At the same time, while the central event is – thankfully – fictional, this is not truly a novel, though there is some rather cheesy dialogue and characterizations that distract from Nuclear War’s potency.
Ultimately, the best category in which to place Nuclear War is horror. Pure, unadulterated horror.
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Without giving away too much, the “scenario” presented by Jacobsen begins with a limited nuclear attack on the United States, which then escalates due to retaliatory measures. Unless you literally do not know what happens when an atomic bomb explodes – in which case, I don’t know what to tell ya – it’s not a spoiler to say that everything ends with the world’s great cities in irradiated ruins, and five-thousand years of recorded history given its final, glowing period.
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To tell this tale of mercilessly splitting atoms, Jacobsen divides Nuclear War into four separate sections. The first section is entirely factual, and gives an extremely brief primer on how we began the twentieth century moving about on horses, and started the twenty-first with nine separate nations stockpiling enough thermonuclear weaponry to take the world all the way back to the original dawn.
Unfortunately, this opening showcases all of Jacobsen’s worst traits as a writer, including disorganization, reductionism, and a tendency to highlight her own journalistic efforts within the text, at the cost of smooth storytelling.
Beyond that, part one is almost useless contextually, and serves mostly as a scattershot critique of America’s nuclear posture, filled with heightened rhetoric that includes comparing the United States’s single integrated operational plan (SIOP) to the Final Solution. There are trenchant points to be made about Cold War-era nuclear planning – in the U.S., and elsewhere – but Jacobsen does not make them. Additionally, she entirely fails to realistically describe why her imagined war began in the first place.
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Thankfully, the rest of Nuclear War is better constructed, more focused, and effectively terrifying. Sections two, three, and four are broken into twenty-four minute increments that describe the initial 1.2 hours of Armageddon. With a galloping pace, frequent place-stamped changes in location, and the recitation of hardware specifications reminiscent of the techno-thrillers of Tom Clancy, Larry Bond, and Ian Slater, Jacobsen takes us from the first warning of launch, to the last explosions caused by multiple independently targetable reentry vehicles.
The time-sensitive nature of Nuclear War initially felt gimmicky, especially when Jacobsen is narrating from second to second. Eventually, though, her purpose becomes clear. Though much is automated, with early-warning satellites detecting the launch, radar stations projecting missile routes, and computers calculating the time-on-target – the big, fateful decisions are still made by human beings. As Jacobsen forcefully demonstrates, it’s asking a lot of a man or woman to decide the fate of the world in a time-frame measured in minutes, all while knowing that you, your family, and several million of your neighbors will soon be dead.
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Interspersed throughout the imagined scenario are a series of “history lessons” that are offset in grayscale, and which tackle various subjects that don’t fit comfortably within the main narrative. This proved to be my favorite part of Nuclear War, and I wish there’d been more of them, because they are absolutely fascinating.
For example, one lesson discusses the origin of the infamous “nuclear football” that is always at the president’s side. Another describes the workings of an intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM). Once an ICBM gets going, they can’t be withdrawn, and there is no real way to stop them. Due to this, Jacobsen describes how two experts proposed putting a Reaper drone into the air twenty-four hours a day off the coast of North Korea, ready to take out a missile just after launch, the only time they’re vulnerable. A third subsection discusses the role of submarines, and how they dramatically cutdown on the available time to respond – or escape – from a missile barrage.
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As Jacobsen notes – more than a bit ruefully – the United States has spent trillions of dollars preparing for the unpreparable. This includes the development, construction, and upkeep of the actual weapons, the bases and manpower devoted to servicing them, and a constellation of classified sites dedicated to detecting launches against North America. According to Jacobsen, much of this money is squandered. In particular, she comes close to ridiculing the Missile Defense Agency, and its forty-four – forty four! – interceptors, which don’t really work anyway.
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This is the third book I’ve read by Jacobsen, even though I’ve never been impressed with her style. In my experience, she has incredible premises marred by so-so execution. Here, the kindest thing I can say about the writing is that it’s not distracting most of the time.
That said, it is distracting some of the time. Partly this is a result of Jacobsen’s insistence that we be impressed with her effort. While most authors put their endnotes at the end, one of the first things you come across upon opening Nuclear War is a list of interview subjects. Throughout the book, she will often let you know – awkwardly – that she talked to an important person in order to get a certain opinion or piece of information.
Beyond this, Jacobsen occasionally relies on portentous, overheated prose, which undercuts the tension and dread her material otherwise evokes. For some reason, Jacobsen seems to think that you – yes, you, dear reader – might believe that hundreds of H-bombs dropping like rain isn’t that big of a deal. So, she keeps reminding you, over and over – as though it’s a secret she uncovered in the archives – that it’s actually a bad thing.
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Despite these flaws, Jacobsen makes plenty of good points. Some insist you ponder big ethical decisions, such as the so-called “launch on warning” strategy, which calls for a retaliatory nuclear strike once sensors have determined that the enemy has sent forth its missiles. Based on the premise that a first-strike is going to target your own stockpile, “launch on warning” decrees that you gotta use ‘em or lose ‘em. The problem – of course – is that sensors can be wrong, meaning that your “retaliatory” strike is actually a “first strike” that is going to end mankind.
Some of Jacobsen’s other points are just going to keep you up at night. Having trouble sleeping? Well, add to your worries the likelihood that every U.S. state has at least one spot whose coordinates have been typed into a Russian ICBM topped by a multi-megaton MIRV. You might also toss-and-turn thinking about the effects of an electromagnetic pulse erasing time’s progress, or the out-of-control forest fires that burn as a side-effect, or the worldwide famine, or the reality that you probably won’t see any of that, because it’ll all be over if you’re anywhere near a population center.
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The whole point of a book like Nuclear War is to serve as a warning. Thus, it belongs on a continuum of media that includes the novel On the Beach and the television movie The Day After, which purportedly changed Ronald Reagan’s geopolitical outlook.
In terms of messaging, Nuclear War does not really contain a coherent call to action. At least, there are no pragmatic suggestions for making everyone safer from a radioactive nightmare. Jacobsen definitely makes a meal out of American nuclear stockpiles, American strategic plans, and American dollars spent, implying this is a problem with a unilateral fix. But it isn’t.
If the United States got rid of everything tomorrow – detached all the warheads, brought all the subs to port, turned all the ICBM silos into homes for mad-eyed preppers – nothing will have changed. Russia – which has the largest nuke force to begin with – isn’t getting rid of theirs. North Korea – which has starved its own people and stolen from others to create an armament – isn’t getting rid of theirs. China – which is massively increasing their atomic weaponry – isn’t getting rid of theirs. India and Pakistan – tensely facing off since the Partition – aren’t getting rid of theirs. Israel – which believes itself to exist under a continuing existential threat – isn’t getting rid of theirs.
The harsh reality is that “mutually assured destruction” is the only practical deterrence. Part of that deterrence rests on the understanding that once those missiles are let loose upon the world, most of that world will end. It is in evoking the beyond-grim results of such a conflict that Nuclear War is most effective. The message is to get leaders to see what they’ve done, before they do it.