Giles Fraser writes:
In one of her first acts as prime minister, Theresa May sat
down to write to the commanders of our four nuclear submarines, laying out what
she would like them to do in the event of a nuclear attack.
These
handwritten instructions – the so-called letters of last resort – are locked in
the boats’ safes, only to be opened if an attack has knocked out all contact
with government.
No one has ever opened one.
On Wednesday
night, on Radio 4’s Moral Maze, Major General Patrick Cordingley
DSO, commander of the Desert Rats during the first Gulf war – so no
bleeding-heart liberal – said that he thought it would be the moral duty of
commanders not to fire, even if Mrs May had instructed them to do so.
It was astonishing
to hear so senior a military figure urging fellow officers to disobey
a direct order from the PM.
The general was not being
squeamish – he was responsible for tens of thousands of deaths in Iraq.
Rather,
he was making the point that if Britain had been the victim of a nuclear
attack, then the game was already up and there would be little left for us to
defend.
Firing in such circumstances would be tactically pointless.
Indeed, it
would be murderous revenge, nothing more. And who wants their last action on
earth to be one of mass genocide?
That’s why the letters from Mrs May should
really read: “Open the Scotch and say your prayers.”
Speaking in the House of Commons during the Trident debate, Mrs May said she was perfectly
prepared to order her commanders to fire.
She has to say that, of course.
There’s no point in having a deterrent if the PM indicates in advance that she
wouldn’t use it.
Even so, locked inside those safes, what the top-secret
letters actually say is a totally different matter.
Remember, the only reason
to open them would be if deterrence had failed. And there would be absolutely
no point in firing.
In other words, given her commitment to the idea of
deterrence, the only moral thing would be for Mrs May to tell the world she has
written “fire” when, in fact, she has written something else entirely.
And
that, we might reasonably suppose from subsequent comments, is precisely what
Tony Blair and Margaret Thatcher did.
It should come as no surprise: this is
poker and everybody lies.
So parliament has just committed
well over £100bn on a weapons system that we won’t use, that we mustn’t use,
and that even the Russians know we won’t use.
They know this because the only
situation in which we would think about pressing the button would be precisely
the situation in which there was no longer any point in pressing the button.
Tories voted for Trident out of some backward sense of
patriotism, still pretending the UK is a big player in the politics of global
power, and New Labour voted for it as an act of non-virtue signalling, still
deliberately distancing themselves from the electoral kryptonite of those
pacifist hippies of the 1970s.
The old argument for nuclear
weapons during the cold war was simple. We didn’t have the conventional forces
to resist the Russians if they drove their tanks into Germany.
If
they invaded, we could only stop them with tactical nuclear weapons. This
nuclear option was primarily envisaged as a first-strike option.
But does
anyone seriously imagine that we would do the same today if the Russians
invaded Latvia?
MPs are still going on about a deterrent even though any
plausible scenario for this to be employed has disappeared.
Deterrent is an
empty threat, a retro tactical theory, marooned by totally different
geopolitical circumstances.
Sitting opposite General
Cordingley in the Moral Maze studio was Michael Portillo, who used to be the
hawkish secretary of state for defence before he retired to play with his
trains.
Like Cordingley, he too is against the renewal of Trident, seeing our
few hundred or so nuclear warheads as irrelevant in a world in which the
Russians and the US have several thousand nukes each.
The world has changed
since the cold war, but too consumed with internal politics, the House of
Commons has failed to notice.
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