If you hadn’t figured it out yet, my last editorial didn’t actually reflect my personal position on nuclear war.
I wasn’t lying; it was a rhetorical device known as reducto ad absurdum, where you take and make an argument so ridiculous that people should see how ridiculous it is. Alas, this is not always the case.
This has never been more clear than with the current political climate, where, as long as it’s your side saying it, it is accepted as fact.
Bah, who am I kidding? It has ever been thus.
“Meaningless! Meaningless!”
says the Teacher.
What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under
the sun.
Let’s start with debunking why anyone in Tumbler Ridge should still be worried about a nuclear bomb falling on, say, Edmonton. Or Vancouver. Or both.
While we would be outside the immediate range of destruction, a nuclear blast also releases a large amount of radioactive material, which can be carried for hundreds, and even thousands of kilometres.
Depending on how strong a dose one would get, it can cause radiation sickness and death, or long-term medical problems, such as cancer.
Of course, as it disperses through the atmosphere, the amount of radioactive material becomes thinner and thinner. Indeed, we are still living under the fallout from all the nuclear blasts post-Los Alamos.
By 1963, the level of background radiation had risen to 4.6 percent above normal levels on average, worldwide.
That year, the Partial Nuclear Test Ban treaty went into effect, which forbade nuclear nations from testing their weapons above ground, in the ocean, or in space. The only place nuclear bombs could be tested was underground.
Since then levels have fallen, and while that level has dropped in the last 62 years, the amount of background radiation out there is still higher than before Los Alamos. Nuclear bombs are still affecting the world, more than 60 years later.
Second, a nuclear blast creates something called an electromagnetic pulses (EMP). An EMP from a high-altitude nuclear detonation can damage or destroy electronic devices, including power grids, communication systems, and vehicles, severely disrupting essential services and infrastructure, even in rural areas. So, while you might survive, your iPhone may be toast.
And if Edmonton and/or Vancouver were nuked, where would we get any of our supplies? Amazon, which struggles shipping here, would have a heck of a time managing after the road infrastructure blew up. And, while we live on the edge of North America’s northernmost prairie, we are not really set up to be self-sufficient. We could probably transition to surviving on locally grown produce and animals, but it would take a few years to adjust, and no guarantees that people might not start looking at each other as a tasty treat before then.
Even if we have access to food, what about clothing? Do we have enough people about who understand how to weave textiles? Is there any infrastructure? We’ve got a lot of wood so could build new houses and stay warm in winter, but what about medicine? The Pharmacy only stores so much, and I’m pretty sure global thermonuclear war would play merry hell with the cold chain. It is a long list—from the phone in your picket to the insulation in your walls to the shoes on your feet—that are not manufactured locally.
Finally, a nuclear bomb kicks up a great deal of dust into the air, which would most likely cause a significant drop in temperature. This process is known as nuclear winter, which is based on the cooling that has been measured after both large scale forest fires and volcanic eruptions.
But while a thermonuclear war might counteract the effects of global warming, this is not a sustainable plan for the long-term.
Nor is ignoring the problem of global warming (or, more properly, climate change) and coming up with a “made in the Peace” solution, which is, as far as I can tell, not doing anything.
For instance, a longer growing season (by up to 37 percent) seems to be a good thing. And lower heating costs in winter? That, too, is a good thing. I’m not disputing that. But I do wonder what is not being said.
For instance, what would warmer winters do for the local moose population? We in the north are quite rightly proud of our swamp donkeys, but they are under assault from ticks in winter. Typically, weather below -30 for a week helps control these ticks, but as the weather warms, it also helps those ticks survive.
A few year’s back, a study showed that up to 70 percent of moose calves in New England died, a large part of that was due to ticks. Yes, there are benefits to warmer weather. But there are also drawbacks.
The north stands to get hit harder by climate change than the south. And because this year has been cooler and wetter than the last few, we think there’s nothing to worry about, but 2025 is the second-worst year for forest fires in the country, having seen an area the size of New Brunswick burn.
The Peace is not some hermetically sealed container where nothing that happens outside stays outside and vice versa. We are a part of the province, a part of the country, a part of the planet. We need to stand up and step up.
The PRRD stores three billion tonnes of carbon and is one of the benchmarks for what a global carbon sink is, says Kicking International Council Out of Local Environmental Initiatives (which is, despite the name, a national group). Rather than say “we’ve done our duty”, when we, in fact, have done sweet fanny about it (the hard work was done by momma nature), let’s go one step farther. Already good? Let’s find a way to be better. Rather than resting on our laurels, let’s set the gold standard. Yes, let’s not do it at expense of people, but let’s not forget that when it comes to climate change, we’re all in it together.
Trent is the publisher of Tumbler RidgeLines.
