Atomic Power

The atomic bomb has elicited from us all a complex response: horror at what was done to Hiroshima and Nagasaki, but also a strange hope. For here is an appalling danger for all humanity—yet also an immense potentiality for good.

Perhaps the bomb will force us, at last, to found a genuine World State. Nothing less can control this power. If that is what it takes to unite humanity, then even this horror may prove a turning point. It has certainly woken up the public as no amount of philosophical argument ever could.

What if we fail to organize international control? The prospect is grim.

First, war is revolutionized. This first atomic bomb is two thousand times as powerful as the largest conventional bomb, at perhaps one-tenth the weight. The next generation will be a thousand times more powerful still—two million times the old explosive.

Warships, bombers, conventional armies all become futile. The future belongs to atomic rockets with atomic warheads, to submarine-launched bombs, to war against machines rather than soldiers. Only nations with vast areas for dispersal of population can hope to survive.

War now depends wholly on vast research establishments and industrial organization. Only the mightiest states can wage it—which means, in practice, only America and Russia.

Without international organization, we face Russo-American war. Cities snuffed out in hours. Material civilization destroyed across both continents. Lands devastated, crops ruined, mass famine following.

Is defense possible? Perhaps—only through subterranean shelters miles deep, blasted by atomic power, refrigerated by atomic power. Or by exploding incoming bombs at a distance—an extremely dangerous technique.

Britain, I fear, would be the Stalingrad of any such war—certain destruction, a battleground, nothing left. Only the great geographical units with vast areas for dispersal could hope to survive: America, Russia, perhaps China. Small nations would simply be erased.

Haldane has suggested—half seriously, half grimly—that there may be a general law of nature: that any species winning atomic power before unifying its planet destroys itself.

Consider the asteroids between Mars and Jupiter. Are they the debris of a world whose inhabitants made this discovery before they were ready for it? We may be facing the same test. The universe may be littered with the remains of species that failed it.

Peaceful use of atomic power is at present impossible. The difficulty is damping the reaction—grading the explosive release for controlled industrial work. Scientists are rightly cautious, but they promise success within a few years if all goes well.

But there is a complication: uranium is in limited supply. It won't last forever. When it's exhausted, what then?

The possibility exists of deriving power from other atoms—other radioactive elements, or even stable atoms. But here lies extreme danger. An explosion of stable atoms might be infectious, spreading to surrounding matter. Such a chain reaction could conceivably destroy the planet. Those asteroids may serve as a warning.

But suppose controlled use becomes possible—what then? We gain access to practically limitless power, for good or ill.

We could transform the planet: irrigate the deserts, warm the Arctic and Antarctic, reshape coastlines, remove mountains that obstruct human purposes—though we should preserve wild places, not tame everything. We could engineer climates, form new islands, redirect rivers.

We could build glorious cities—if we know what glory means. Private atomic aircraft for all. Vast expansion of scientific research: abolish disease, prolong the years of maturity, improve childbirth. And finally, interplanetary travel—the expansion of humanity beyond Earth.

The secret must be entrusted to the Security Council of the United Nations—or some better body if one can be created. World control of arms becomes at last both possible and inevitable. The key is universal inspection: no nation can be trusted to police itself.

Six hundred scientists have signed protests. They fear not only war but accident—irresponsible experiment by someone seeking shortcuts. All countries are researching, in a hurry: Argentine Nazis are on the track; Japanese professors are working; everyone is racing.

The folly of secrecy must be recognized. America's policy of hoarding the secret buys perhaps five years—no more. After that, everyone will have it. American isolationism is not a solution; it is a postponement of catastrophe.

The First Industrial Revolution was obsessed with the glamour of power—the new toy of steam and electricity. We were enchanted by what machines could do, like children with a new plaything.

In the Second Industrial Revolution—the atomic age—power will become cheap, ordinary, trivial. When "money is no object," when energy is essentially free, when we have the universal skivvy to do all our work, perhaps we may turn again to the Spirit.

Perhaps. It depends on what we do with our liberation.

Power without wisdom is futile and lethal. The gift is worthless unless we use it wisely, with a clear view of the right aim.

Consider the application of science hitherto—what Francis Bacon prophesied. If he could see today, he would find both good and bad: improved health and nutrition, yes; better communications and more education, yes. But also: mass unemployment, devastating war, unprecedented tyranny.

What went wrong? Two things. First, no clear view of the goal—we did not know what we were trying to achieve. Second, no resolute planning—we left everything to the profit motive, trusting that individual greed would somehow produce collective good. It did not.

Atomic power may force us to learn wisdom—because otherwise humanity destroys itself. There is no longer any margin for error.

The lesson comes in four parts. First, world unification: the national state has become too dangerous; sovereignty must be transcended. Second, a world-plan for human welfare: opportunity for full humanity for every individual on the planet. Third, a clearer view of what "full humanity" actually means. Fourth, recognition that power is not intrinsically good—it is only a means, and means are worthless without right ends.

Let me spell out the goal in more detail. Every child must have a fair chance—and every woman—to develop into a splendid human being. This means the best food, a complete health service, genuine education, and decent living conditions.

Every adult likewise: suitable work that uses their capacities, and leisure enough to become a wide-awake citizen—aware of the world, able to participate in its governance, connected to the human community.

This requires a revolution in education. We must educate for personality—helping each person become fully themselves. For community—learning to live with and value others. For world-feeling—the sense that all humanity is one's family.

Atomic power makes this possible. With unlimited energy, we can create a world of aristocrats—not aristocrats by birth or wealth, but by development: the best possible men and women, each brought to their highest potential.

But education alone is ineffective. Social background is too powerful; children cannot flourish when their families are desperate. Frustration breeds fascism—the resentment of the deprived finds outlets in hatred and violence. Atomic power can abolish economic frustration at its root.

Why is work necessary? Not merely for its products, but for participation in the common venture of making the best of humanity. Through work, we contribute; through contribution, we belong.

But work hours must be short. Leisure is necessary: for responsible democracy (which requires time to think and discuss); for keeping in touch with society (reading, conversing, traveling); for voluntary social action (the unpaid contributions that make community real).

The goal involves diversity of citizens and groups—not uniformity. Different people, different cultures, different ways of being human, all flourishing together.

The formula is personality-in-community: each person fully themselves, yet fully connected to others through mutual awareness and enrichment.

This requires imagination and intelligence—the capacity for mutual insight, for understanding lives different from one's own. Without this, diversity becomes mere fragmentation; with it, diversity becomes wealth.

What will be the short-term social effects? A Second Industrial Revolution.

First, all production methods will change. Goods will be produced more easily and efficiently. This means vast unemployment—unless we plan, unless the state takes responsibility for every individual displaced by progress.

Second, we will need world-organization for the generation of power, to release the full potentiality of atomic energy.

Third, cheap power everywhere—through improved electric transmission or better accumulators. Also, synthetic products from universal raw materials, since with enough energy, one can transform any substance into any other.

The result may be a new village industry. Ford has already moved toward domestic industry with home electric power. Atomic energy could extend this: small-scale production, dispersed communities, the end of the factory system as we know it.

There is a danger of "denaturing" humanity. We are adapted to a primitive environment—to open spaces, physical challenge, the rhythms of nature. We cannot thrive in a purely artificial world.

Therefore we must preserve much of the primitive: moorland, mountain, jungle. Not everything should be tamed. We need wild places for relaxation, for contact with our origins, for the health of our souls.

Looking to remoter possibilities: with immensely improved research based on atomic power, we might create special human types for special environments—designed not merely to survive in them, but to enjoy them.

Subterranean humans, adapted to living in the hot depths, if surface conditions require it. (Though for the Arctic, better simply to warm it.)

Special types for other planets: for Mars with its thin atmosphere; for Venus, perhaps using vegetation to generate oxygen; for Jupiter, stocky humans built for resistance to high gravity.

Why bother? Not for mere power or expansion—but because diversity is enriching. The more different, the better—granted mutual insight. A humanity spread across the solar system, in varied forms, yet all connected, would be far richer than any monoculture.

But we should not forget the littleness of humanity. Our solar system is minute—a speck. Our sun is one star among billions. Our galaxy is one among countless galaxies. And all of this together is merely a fraction of the whole.

Whatever we achieve with atomic power, we remain tiny creatures on a small planet. This should give us humility—but not despair. Even a small being can contain great spirit.

During the Battle of Britain, we felt a sense of doom—the world might end. When Germany was defeated, we relaxed: things would go on after all. Then came the Japanese bombs, and doom returned.

This oscillation may continue. But the fundamental situation is now clear: either we master atomic power, or it destroys us. Either we create a world government capable of controlling this force for human good, or we perish.

The choice is stark. But it is ours to make.