How does Labour win the election?: A strategic guide.

With all the water that has passed under the bridge in the last month or so of New Zealand’s election campaign (and it’s been a torrent), I thought I’d offer some strategic insight if I was in the captain’s seat looking change the government and offer New Zealand a genuine progressive alternative to the last nine years of selfish soul-crushing neoliberalism. This strategy will be brief and not necessarily analyse in depth parties, or policies. Many others have done this so I wouldn’t be offering anything new. I’m by no means an expert of New Zealand politics, but I read about it a lot. This is based entirely on where things are now, and what’s currently on the table. I’ve looked at voting data from the previous election and compared it with more recent data.

So what do we know so far?:

— National’s support under Bill English is slowly eroding. The emphasis being slowly. They are no longer at the dizzying Key era heights of 47% polling. However they have still regularly been in the mid-to-low 40s. That’s not a bad place for them to be in, and governments can still be formed on those numbers. But inevitably they will need a coalition partner. The Labour leadership change might entice some centrist voters back from National, especially middle-class and educated women, and some might switch to Labour. The trend: a slow leak, but not necessarily in a dire position thus far. The latest Colmar Brunton poll that put National at 40%, 3 points below Labour, can’t be taken as a done and dusted sign. However, if the current trend continues I think this is where the result might settle. This is unless, they do something chronic which could see them dip into the 30s, but not by much.

—Labour’s rising star also must be taken with a grain of salt for two reasons. In order for a strong result they need those young, poorer, and non-voting types to actually turn up or the flashy gimmicks will all be a waste. Despite the latest poll that has them just in front, National could pip them at the post if they get their voters mobilised because of the threat of losing out on the coveted fourth term. But secondly, and more importantly, the need to adhere assiduously to the strategic importance of the Green Party as a valuable support partner. They signed the memorandum of understanding with the goal of changing the government to a real progressive alternative. The data from Horizon released this week suggested that 70% of voters who have switched to Labour have done so on the basis of Labour’s new leadership rather than the Green Party’s own internal strife. A little bit of switching was always expected, but if Labour starts sending the message that it no longer needs the Greens they risk losing this partner if they fall below the 5% threshold. Of course they will be flirting with the idea of New Zealand First, but strategically speaking the more coalition options the better. New Zealand First are a risk: they could join a Labour government that shuts out the Greens like 2005, or they could choose to support National. The point is, if you are someone looking for a strong progressive government, New Zealand First are not reliable in the same way that the Greens are. To me, a Labour-New Zealand First government is more tolerable than a National-New Zealand First Government (with or without the Green Party in Parliament). Even if Labour are still looking towards Winston and co., it would be strategically unwise for them to strangle the Greens out of Parliament as they could offer supply and confidence without being in coalition.

—Which brings me to the next party that Labour needs for a viable progressive coalition: the Māori Party. Party President Tokoroirangi Morgan has suggested that the party, on advice from members and constituents is open to working with Labour again. This certainly works well with kaupapa Māori of always having a seat at the table. On current polling the party still needs electorate seats to remain in Parliament. Labour has suggested it wants to hold all Māori seats, which is a dangerous strategy, because National has proven time and time again the importance of coalition partners. Labour seems to forget it is entitled to seats based on the party vote (unless of course you are a minor party that has a good chance of winning an electorate seat). If the Māori party could hang on to a couple of seats that would be strategically beneficial for Labour.

So what does all this mean? Well here are some things if I was Jacinda Ardern I would be thinking about with regards to forming a government on current number, as well as my prediction.

Here's where I see the number's settling. Below I will offer a bit more explanation as well as some basic MMP strategy.

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	Party vote (%)	Electorate seats	List seats	Total seats
Labour	42.5	29	23	52
National	39.5	39	9	48
NZ First	9	0	11	11
Green	6	0	7	7
TOP	1.5	0	0	0
Māori	1	2	0	2
ACT	0.5	1	0	1
United Future	0	0	0	0
	100	71	50	121

I know there's probably a certain degree of optimism, and therefore some bias, but I have tried to generous to even the right block parties.

The electorate seats here are based on my belief that Labour can win back the Maungakiekie, Ohāriu, and Christchurch Central. United Future is at a loss without Dunne, and National voters in Epsom smart enough to give ACT the tick. New Zealand First will pass the Greens as the third largest party, and the Greens themselves will just hang in there. On current polling in the Māori electorates, if Te Ururoa Flavell can hang on to Waiariki, and if Howie Tamati can pick up Te Tai Hauāuru from Labour, then that's two seats Labour ought to take advantage of. Given these numbers Labour can put together what I believe can be a working coalition of Labour, Greens, and Māori to provide a one seat majority of 61. The remaining parties would add up to 60. In this scenario New Zealand first could offer confidence and supply. This also means National's chances of coalition forming are seriously diminished because not only would they be the second largest party (Winston goes to the largest first), a coalition with ACT seems unworkable.

If Labour was serious about using MMP to its utmost advantage it would have to think like National. It needs coalition partners. If too many Green voters jump to Labour, say 1-2 %, it will make the Labour-New Zealand First scenario inevitable. To anyone putting together a real progressive coalition this is massive disappointment, as the Green Party wouldn't even be in Parliament as a cross-bench or confidence and supply party. Labour can guarantee support partners by allowing the Māori party to retain its current numbers and one other radical strategy: withdraw Grant Robertson from Wellington Central to guarantee the Green Party an electorate seat in the event they fall below the 5% threshold. This is of course a risky strategy and the backlash from National and the media would be phenomenal. Electorate deals are acceptable for National but not Labour would be the message. However, I see the probability of both Labour and Robertson giving this seat to the Greens (even given its strategic value) as a snowball's change in hell.

Whatever happens, Labour needs to be pragmatic rather than attempting to have its cake and eat it too. Don't campaign at the expense of allies, because it's going to be a tight one.

Post script: Here's the "Wellington Central" strategy numbers adjusted from the above table.

	Party vote (%)	Electorate seats	List seats	Total seats
Labour	44	28	26	54
National	39.5	39	9	48
NZ First	9	0	11	11
Green	4.5	1	4	5
TOP	1.5	0	0	0
Māori	1	2	0	2
ACT	0.5	1	0	1
United Future	0	0	0	0
	100	71	50	121

———————————————————————————————————————— "... we can explore space together, both inner and outer, forever in peace." —W. M. Hicks.

"That was probably just a facetious remark"—Top 10 Simpsons Presidential Moments

In honour of the United States' 240th anniversary of its independence, and the impending presidential election (and its equally impeding campaign), I've decided to honour the Office of the President of the United States by tirelessly assembling a collection of The Simpsons' greatest presidential moments.

The Simpsons has never been shy of political satire and laughing at their leaders. Most of them have been at the very least mentioned in some form. Remember Woodrow? Or Grandpa being spanked by Groover Cleveland on two non-consecutive occasions? Either Grandpa is ridiculously old (Cleveland was president in the late nineteenth century), or this is a very subtle and clever reference to Cleveland being the only person to have served two non-consecutive terms as president.

Anyway, without further ado, here's the list, starting with the honorable mentions.

Honorable Mentions

Dwight D. Eisenhower in "Sideshow Bob's Last Gleaming" Season 7, Episode 9

Guest appearance on "The Stingy and Battery Show": let's get busy.

Jimmy Carter in "Marge in Chains" Season 4, Episode 21

Malaise forever: he's history's greatest monster.

Thomas Jefferson in "Mr. Lisa Goes to Washington" Season 3, Episode 2

Remembered for the Declaration of Independence, the Louisiana Purchase, and the dumbwaiter.

"The Mediocre Presidents" Zachary Taylor, John Tyler, Millard Fillmore, Rutherford B. Hayes, William Henry Harrison in "I Love Lisa" Season 4, Episode 15

The adequate, forgettable, occasionally regrettable, caretaker presidents of the U.S.A.

#10 Abraham Lincoln in "The Boy Who Knew Too Much" Season 5, Episode 20.

Disheartened by the prospect of going to school on a sunny summer's day, Bart attempts to escape reality by day-dreaming. His fantasy in includes himself floating on a raft with Huckleberry Finn down what is assumed to be a stereotypical Southern river. Also on the raft, standing tall with his trademark top-hat, unlike the boys who are reclining, is President Lincoln. Bart is bemused by Lincoln's presence and asks Finn, "Hey, Huck, what's L-I-N-C-O-N doing here?"—of course a misspelling of Lincoln. Finn replies, "I don't know. It's your fantasy." Bart then casually greets Lincoln, who says "Hello, Bart," cheerfully in response.

#9 George Washington in "Lisa the Iconoclast" Season 7, Episode 16

During her research for an essay on founder of Springfield, Jebediah Springfield, for the city's centenary, Lisa discovers the truth about Springfield's shadowy past. In a flashback to 1781, Springfield, who is revealed to be a pirate named Hans Sprungfeld, ambushes President Washington at his Trenton, New Jersey home and demands, "give me all your money!" to which Washington retorts, "Never!" A vicious fight ensues between the two men, and the painting which Washington was posing for is damaged; a piece is torn off by Sprungfeld as he retreats. This a reference to Gilbert Stuart's unfinished painting of Washington. The fight is interrupted when a women enters carrying an early incarnation of the US flag and says to Washington, "I got the white stars you wanted, but I couldn't find any red hearts, yellow moons, or green clovers." Washington, quite clearly disgruntled by this change of circumstance, replies, "We'll use it. But I'm not paying for it." This is likely a reference to the contentious mythology surrounding the "first flag," or the so-called Betsy Ross flag.

#8 Teddy Roosevelt in "The Day the Violence Died" Season 7, Episode 18

Chester Lampwick, a bum who claims to have invented Itchy and Scratchy, is determined to prove it to Bart and Milhouse so shows them the very first cartoon, "Manhattan Madness," he created in 1919. The cartoon only features Itchy, but Teddy Roosevelt makes an appearance. He exclaims (on an intertitle), "Ah, Manhattan Town. An agreeable sight for an old Knickerbocker like me," before being brutally decapitated by Itchy.

#7 Al Gore in "Grandpa Simpson vs. Sexual Inadequacy" Season 6, Episode 10

Strictly speaking, this not a presidential moment, but a vice-presidential moment. Nevertheless, I've included it because it's great. While out book shopping, Lisa purchases a copy of Al Gore's new book "Sane Planning, Sensible Tomorrow," a follow up to a previous book titled "Rational Thinking, Reasonable Future." When the book is scanned at the register, an electronic signal is sent to Washington D.C. to inform one of Gore's staff that someone finally bought a copy of his book. Gore, in a dry monotone replies, "well, this calls for a celebration." He leans over to a nearby turntable and starts "Celebration" by Kool & the Gang. The chorus rings out: "celebrate good times, come on!" To which Gore replies, "I will," still in monotonous excitement.

#6 Richard Nixon in "Homer Goes to College"
 Episode 3, Season 5

Homer and some nerds at Springfield University, want to pull a prank on rival college Springfield A&M. They kidnap Springfield A&M's mascot pig Sir Oinks-a-lot, who subsequently gets severely intoxicated after splitting a case of malt-liquor with Homer. When the team is caught, the nerds are expelled; the dean regrettably informing them, "I'm sorry boys, I've never expelled anyone before, but that pig had some powerful friends." Then appears Richard Nixon to scold the nerds: "Oh, you'll pay! Don't think you won't pay." Earlier, when planning the kidnapping, Bart shows the team a picture of Sir Oinks-a-lot conferring an honorary degree on Nixon.

#5 Bill Clinton in "Homer to the Max" Episode 13, Season 10

Homer and Marge are attending a party on an invite by Homer's new well-to-do liberal friend Trent Steel that is attended by other well-to-do liberal celebrities including Woody Harrelson and Ed Begley Jr. Also attending the party is President Clinton, who Marge dances with while he attempts to seduce her by suggesting, "I know you don't think you're good enough for me. But believe me, you are. Hell, I've done it with pigs. Real no-foolin' pigs." This is almost certainly a reference to the Monica Lewinsky scandal that broke a year before this episode aired.

#4 Ronald Reagan in "Homer's Barbershop Quartet" Episode 1, Season 5

The Be Sharps, the barbershop quartet Homer is in, are the performing guest at the centenary of the Statue of Liberty in 1986, and President Reagan is present. Showing his capitalist Protestant work ethic, he bemoans having to be at the event: "damn ceremonies, this is time I could be working."

#3 Ronald Reagan, Richard Nixon, George H.W. Bush, and Jimmy Carter in "Rosebud" Episode 4, Season 5

Waiting in line, carrying wrapped gifts, for Mr. Burns' birthday party are former Presidents Reagan, Nixon, and George H.W. Bush. Reagan and Nixon are allowed in the party, but Bush gets stopped and rejected by a security guard at the door who tells him, "Hey, no one-termers." After being rejected he is consoled by fellow one-termer Jimmy Carter. Bush is obviously not ready to reconcile with old political rivalries telling Carter, "Get away from me, loser!"

#2 John F. Kennedy and Richard Nixon in "Duffless" Episode 6, Season 4

This one is basically for the nerds of United States political history. On a tour of the Duff Brewery, Barney and Homer are shown a Duff beer commercial featuring Vice-President, then eventual President Nixon, and Senator, then eventual President Kennedy. It is a reference to the first of four televised debates between Kennedy and Nixon during the 1960 presidential election campaign. Nixon's comment (in this episode), "if you knew the president, that was probably just a facetious remark," is, verbatim, what Nixon said in response the statement, "President Eisenhower was asked to give one example of a major idea of yours that he adopted. His reply was, and I'm quoting; 'If you give me a week I might think of one. I don't remember,'" made by Sander Vanocur of NBC News. It is because of this episode that I can no longer read any speeches by Kennedy without it automatically reverting to a Mayor Quimby voice in my inner monologue (Quimby's Boston accent is based on Kennedy's).

#1 George H. W. Bush and Gerald Ford in "Two Bad Neighbours" Episode 13, Season 7

How could it not be number one? An entire episode dedicated to the tired old conservatism of the first Bush. Showrunner Bill Oakley took inspiration from the show's previous feud with the Bushes; instead of wanting to make a political statement about Bush, he suggested it was more about making fun of his "crotchetiness." The episode features many classic moments when Bush faces off with Homer and Bart who don't like his presence in the neighbourhood. Bush's exchanges, similarity to, and partiality for Ned Flanders, resonate with his family friendly brand of conservatism. He even picks up an "Okily dokily" from Flanders' gibberish lingo. There's a reference to Bush vomiting (a bout of the flu) on the Japanese prime minister at a state dinner in 1992: "I'll ruin you like a Japanese banquet!" This episode also features a brief appearance by Nixon's post-resignation successor Gerald Ford, who Homer immediately takes an interest in because of his mutual like of football and nachos. They both trip on the curb, shouting "D'oh!" on their way to Ford's house, a reference to Ford's unfortunate habit of falling down.

Some more memorable lines from Bush include:
—"And since I'd achieved all my goals as President in one term, there was no need for a second... Hmmm... Good memoirs. Good, not great." Typing the conclusion to his memoirs.
—"That guy is louder than World War II. Ray, go see what the rhubarb is, will you?" Waiting in the Krusty Burger drive-through with Homer honking his car-horn behind him.
—"Oh good, they're roasting the new guy." Upon seeing Bill Clinton on the cover of US News.
—"But, Bar, we can't show any weakness in front of the Russians." After being forced to apologise to Homer by his wife Barbara in front of former Soviet Premier Mikhail Gorbachev.
———————————————————————————————————————— "... we can explore space together, both inner and outer, forever in peace." —W. M. Hicks.

Breferemdum: A Comprehensive List of Media Buzzword Portmanteau for Future EU Referenda.

In light of the "Brexit"—Britain's referendum to leave the European Union—I've concocted a handy go-to reference for all your future portmanteau buzzword needs. Because any profit-turning media organisation has a penchant for portmanteau. Just like celebrity power couples, it doesn't make sense to the senseless hordes unless we take two existing words and smash them together in a cringe-inducing manner.

So the following contains many original "exitisms" for when you just can't find a word short enough for "[insert EU country here]'s proposal to leave the EU." These are organised into The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly.

The Good: The words that sound great, feel great, and can be just dropped into conversation at your pretentious cocktail parties like you've used them all your life.

- Brexit* - United Kingdom

- Grexit* - Greece

- Czexit* - Czech Republic

- Frexit* - France

- Spexit - Spain

- Nexit - The Netherlands

- Luxit - Luxembourg

- Swexit - Sweden

- Fixit - Finland

- Laxit - Latvia

- Lixit - Lithuania

The Bad: While not tounge-twisters in their own right, these mashups just don't have that great mouthfeel—to borrow wine terminology. The $10-15 bottle so to speak.

- Gexit (pronounced with a soft G) - Germany

- Poxit - Poland

- Dexit* (I feel as if this one has already been coined—Denmark is quite Eurosceptic) - Denmark

- Bexit - Belgium

- Exit (highly original of course) - Estonia

- Auxit - Austria

- Huxit - Hungary

- Roxit (pronounced with a long O) - Romania

- Buxit (pronounced with a short U) - Bulgaria

- Maxit - Malta

- Croxit - Croatia

- Slexit (or Slovaxit) - Slovakia

The Ugly: No, just no... Any journalist that dare to use these should be fired—immediately. Or just go work for Fox News.

- Irexit - Ireland

- Itexit - Italy

- Cyxit - Cyprus

- Porxit - Portugal

*Note these are not original coinages, and as far I am aware have already entered the cheese-filled world of journalistic buzzwordery.

———————————————————————————————————————— "... we can explore space together, both inner and outer, forever in peace." —W. M. Hicks.

Dr. Strangelove or: How I Killed God and Learned to Love the Nihilism

God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him. How shall we comfort ourselves, the murderers of all murderers? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet owned has bled to death under our knives: who will wipe this blood off us?

—Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science, 1882.[1]

You could say Stanley Kubrick’s 1964 Cold War black comedy Dr. Strangelove or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love The Bomb was a wakeup call for America. The New York Times’ film reviewer at the time, Bosley Crowther, suggested the film was, “based upon a modicum of truth.”[2] But was this just a spoof having a bit of fun at the expense of America’s Cold War political and military leadership, or a work of art that had a more serious message? The film was based on Peter George’s novel, and more serious treatment of nuclear policy, Red Alert (1958), but as Kubrick was crafting the screenplay he attempted to keep it somewhat serious. “Ideas kept coming to me which I would discard because they were so ludicrous,” said Kubrick in a 1970 interview, “I kept saying to myself, ‘I can’t do that—people will laugh’. But after a month or so I began to realize that all the things I was throwing out were the most truthful.”[3] Dr. Strangelove can be read as Kubrick not just offering a political critique of nuclear policy, but also offering a deeper moral critique. In doing so Kubrick took the core tenets of political realism and pushed them beyond their limit to reveal their moral nihilism.[4] While the scenario Kubrick painted was entirely hypothetical and bent the reality of nuclear policy, it nevertheless reveals historical fragments that suggest that the push towards hyper-realism, which in turn lead to a sense of moral nihilism by the early 1960s in the United States, was indeed real. Dr. Strangelove can be understood as emblematic of a growing trend in the early 1960s to question and expose that moral nihilism. The political realism of the Cold War was not primarily pragmatic, but also rooted in ideology—an assertion that is also made by Dr. Strangelove.

One of the most thorough analyses of America's atomic culture is Margot Henriksen's Dr. Strangelove's America (1997), which systematically challenges the assertion that substantial dissent towards nuclear weapons did not occur until the 1980s. Henriksen argues that the arrival of the bomb in the 1940s split American culture into two distinct groups: a culture of consensus and a culture of dissent. The bomb became the, "unifying symbol of American safety and security in the culture of consensus," she argues, while, "at the same time the bomb became the disunifying symbol for American insecurity, immorality, insanity, and rebelliousness in the culture of dissent."[5] When Dr. Strangelove is viewed through this framework, Kubrick can be seen as highlighting these two cultures by playing them off one another. Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper insanely puts his faith in the bomb while Group Captain Lionel Mandrake challenges his authority by appeal to universal morality. Similarly, President Merkin Muffley is faced with the flippant attitude of General Buck Turgidsen and his reluctance to give up strategic and ideological presuppositions for the sake of avoiding apocalypse. In the 1940s and 1950s the cultural consensus reigned supreme only to be fragmented during the 1960s, fuelled by the Berlin crisis, the craze for bomb shelters, and the Cuban Missile Crisis—allowing for visible emergence of the culture of dissent.[6] This shifting public discourse and culture toward dissent also fits with the periodisation developed by Scott Zeman and Michael Amundson in their collection of essays, Atomic Culture (2004). Zeman and Amundson break down the post-war period in an effort to highlight the shifting attitudes towards nuclear technology through an analysis of popular culture. Early, High, Late, and Post Atomic Culture are the four distinct periods they identify, which I will briefly describe in order to place Dr. Strangelove within this framework.[7]

Peter Sellers as Dr. Strangelove

Early Atomic Culture spanned the years 1945 to 1948, and embodied a sense of hope for the future and a celebration of the benefits of nuclear technology. Little Boy and Fat Man brought World War II to an end and spared America from a costly invasion of Japan. Atomic Culture included a fascination with nuclear technology and a desire to understand nuclear physics. These years allowed America to enjoy prosperity under a nuclear monopoly. High Atomic Culture, spanning the years 1949 to 1963, was initiated by the first successful Soviet nuclear test. The Second Red Scare, inter-continental ballistic missiles (ICBMs), and the threat of mutually assured destruction, were some of the defining features that shaped this age. Atomic Culture shifted into overdrive, albeit a romanticisation of the bomb. Nuclear jargon seeped into many facets of popular culture from Skip Stanley's sci-fi rockabilly hit 'Satellite Baby' (1956) to The Atomic Kid (1954) starring Mickey Rooney. The horrors of nuclear war's reality become lost in its illusory popularisation. Late Atomic Culture, from 1964 to 1991, entailed the fracturing of the culture of consensus Henriksen refers to. The arms race and its tension manifested itself as the cusp of Hot War. The moral righteousness of America's foreign, and indeed nuclear policy, became the subject of scrutiny, especially in the wake of the Vietnam War. The Three Mile Island accident in 1979 certainly did no favours to the nuclear consensus. Post Atomic Culture, from 1992 to the present, could be defined as a period of ambiguity, sense of loss, or even of nostalgia. The collapse of the Soviet Union certainly eased nuclear tension, but raised uncertainties about America's nuclear role. The nostalgia for an earlier Atomic Culture was jokingly portrayed in the 1990s on the popular television cartoon The Simpsons.[8]

Zeman and Amundson's framework is useful for an analysis of Dr. Strangelove within Cold War culture, especially in synthesis with Henriksen's thesis. I would locate Dr. Strangelove at the transition between High and Late Atomic Culture, or, as a transition between a culture of nuclear consensus to a culture of nuclear dissent. This shift in culture is also exemplified by films such as Stanley Kramer’s On the Beach (1959), Rod Sterling and John Frankenheimer’s Seven Days in May (1964), and Sidney Lumet and Walter Bernstein’s Fail Safe (1964). The influence of the late 1950s to early 1960s political climate can be seen weaved vividly throughout Dr. Strangelove. There are many fragments of history that surface during the film, so a detailed analysis of all of them is beyond the scope of this essay. I will however elaborate on some of the major motifs Kubrick uses to contextualise this film historically, as well as a means to support my argument. As aforementioned, the common theme that ties all these motifs together is a manifestation of a moral nihilism guided by an ideologically driven political realism. Although the unfolding of events in Dr. Strangelove is entirely hypothetical, Kubrick nevertheless drew upon a myriad of contemporary sources to make his statement to America.

Grant B. Stillman has attempted to uncover the impetus for Dr. Strangelove by referring to the February 17th, 1961 issue of Time as the “Rosetta Stone”, which is somehow a revolutionary piece of evidence that unlocks the ingredients that made the film.[9] I would argue Stillman’s claim of a “Rosetta Stone”, as plausible as it may seem, is perhaps over-zealous, as the political milieu Kubrick would have been immersed in in the early 1960s was already saturated with discourse on nuclear policy. Being a former photo-journalist for Look, Kubrick is known to have been well-read on the subject, and merely being present in the late 1950s and early 1960s would certainly be enough for him to be fully aware of the politics of the bomb without simply picking up an issue of Time.[10] Kubrick also talked to military strategists Thomas Schelling and Herman Kahn, and the influence of Kahn’s 1960 book On Thermonuclear War essentially serves as the cornerstone of the film’s main plot device, the Doomsday Machine.[11] Despite Kahn’s detailed explanation of the theoretical Doomsday Machine, he makes a rejection of such a system based on several arguments including an explicitly moral argument. “A failure [of the Doomsday Machine] kills too many people and kills them too automatically,” he argues, “there is no chance of human intervention, control, and final decision.”[12] Even if Kahn rejected the Doomsday Machine, the mere proposal of it, albeit hypothetical, as the ultimate end in nuclear strategy is enough for Kubrick to question the moral implication of making such a strategic jump by including it as the central plot device in the film. Kahn’s book deals with the nuclear strategy of deterrence that prevailed and set the tone of Cold War itself. In the film, Strangelove asserts, “deterrence is the art of producing in the mind of the enemy the fear to attack,” a concise summary of psychological impetus for mutually assured destruction.

The post-war nuclear arms race was the defining feature of American military and political policy. Michael Sherry argues that the, “1960s marked the apogee of America’s post-1945 militarization.”[13] The Kennedy administration ramped up defence spending, especially in contrast to Eisenhower’s cuts to conventional spending. The Eisenhower administration became reliant on the strategic power and cost efficiency of nuclear weapons rather than massive spending on large conventional forces. This increase in defence spending on conventional forces during Kennedy’s administration did not however mitigate the massive stockpiling of nuclear weapons. By 1967 the all-time high for nuclear warheads reached 32,500.[14] If we assume each warhead was several megatons in equivalent TNT, then the cumulative power of the stockpile can be imagined, if not visualised, in the hypothetical event it was used in a short space of time. In Dr. Strangelove the narrator comments in a news-like manner, “each B-52 can deliver a nuclear bomb-load of fifty megatons, equal to sixteen times the explosive force of all the bombs and shells used by all the armies in World War Two.” The devastation brought to Europe was still fresh in the minds of Americans in the 1950s and 1960s, so to have the power of that devastating war multiplied seemed so abhorrent it was almost incomprehensible.

But the memory of the war, especially in the face of the perceived threat from the Soviet Union, did not dampen the Kennedy administration’s thirst for nuclear superiority. Throughout his presidential election campaign Kennedy alluded to America’s lack of vigilance in the nuclear arms race. Referring to the Eisenhower administration, on August 14th, 1958 Kennedy argued that a mutual deterrence scenario that created a “balance of terror”, was no longer the case, rather, the United States was, “rapidly approaching that dangerous period which General [James M.] Gavin and others have called the ‘gap’ or the ‘missile-lag period’”[15] Kubrick satirised this desperate need to close the missile gap when General Turgidsen implores with President Muffley after Strangelove suggests that they shelter Americans in mineshafts after the nuclear holocaust, “Mr. President, we must not allow a mineshaft gap!” Turgidsen is concerned, even after the unthinkable, that the Russians will also have mineshafts to shelter their population, and that if they have an advantage in a post-apocalyptic world they may strike back. His belief in the ideological superiority of the United States is not even dampened by nihilism of the situation.

George C. Scott as General "Buck" Turgidson

Kubrick creatively uses several instances of juxtaposition and irony as an immanent critique of the absurdities of militarism—absurdities that when they are treated with a dose of flippancy and black comedy, and from the perspective of the fourth wall, allow questions regarding their moral legitimacy to be raised. One of the most memorable lines from the film is President Muffley shouting at General Turgidsen and the Soviet Ambassador, Alexi de Sadesky, “Gentlemen, you can’t fight in here! This is the War Room.” It is ironic that these men can unleash untold death on humanity but must not ‘war’ with each other in a room whose very purpose is war. The fictitious Burpelson Air Force Base, commanded by the war-mongering General Ripper, displays a slogan that shows similar irony that is squarely pointed at moral nihilism of strategic deterrence and mutually assured destruction. As friendly forces spill their blood to stop Ripper’s madness, signs scattered around the base declare, “Peace is Our Profession.” It stands in stark contrast to the actual purpose of a military. Nuclear deterrence may create peace, but it is a paradoxical peace, because in hypothetical event of war, its justification rests on highly unstable moral ground. Kubrick’s use of this phrase was not mere fiction: the slogan of Strategic Air Command for the entirety of the Cold War was actually “Peace is Our Profession.”[16] Similarly, A promotional single distributed with the film, ‘Love That Bomb’ by Dr. Strangelove and the Fallouts captures this same sense of juxtaposition that exposes a deeper moral nihilism. Its campy music, melody, and lyrics sound like a goofy dance-floor shaker from the 1950s rather than a moral critique: “Love that bomb. I’ve got a strange love for that bomb. I can hardly wait for World War Three. Here’s the way we think it’s gonna be.”[17] The song offers more explanatory power to Kubrick’s choice of name for the eponymous doctor. The love for the bomb, within the context of a paradoxical peace, was indeed strange, if not morally vacuous.

The seemingly complex intertwining of morality and religion, and the question of their inextricability is a persistent theme that also runs throughout Dr. Strangelove. Doubt is implicitly raised about the homogeneity of Christianity and the universality of Christian morality. General Ripper is evidently a devoutly religious man who fears the supposed atheism of communism—without God how can communists be moral? Despite Ripper’s insanity justified by piety, Mandrake also displays a religious faith that hopes and prays for a peaceful resolution to the situation. How can their two faiths be incompatible if they believe in the same God? Whose God is the real God? Henriksen has drawn upon similar themes from the early to mid 1960s to suggest that there was indeed a moral and spiritual crisis in America in response to the height of the nuclear threat. The paranoia of humanity’s annihilation pushed morality to its limit, and led to, “an extensive questioning of the nature and relevance of God, of all spiritual and political authority”.[18] Henriksen refers to a starkly conceived article from Time two years after the release of Dr. Strangelove that took Nietzsche’s famous aphorism and posed it as a question to its readers: “Is God Dead?”[19] The article asserts that the fundamental nature of God must be readdressed in light of the shifting currents of history and that, “Christian atheists are waking the churches to the brutal reality that the basic premise of faith—the existence of a personal God … —is now subject to profound attack.”[20] The doubts expressed regarding the diminished nature of God in the article did not however mitigate its ideological entrenchment, allowing the writer to declare by recalling Marx’s aphoristic attack on religion, “nearly one in every two men on earth live in thralldom to a brand of totalitarianism that condemns religion as the opiate of the masses.”[21] Similarly, General Turgidson’s fear of the atheism of communism pushes him to loudly protest the Soviet ambassador’s acceptance into the War Room—a fear that offers a shrill juxtaposition to his cavalier acceptance of casualties for the sake of the ultimate game of one-upmanship.

This paranoid fear and its accompanying devaluing of all human life for the sake of ideological and individual ends was an all-too-apparent thread running through American society in the early 1960s. The Bay of Pigs Invasion and the Cuban Missile Crisis pushed the United States and the Soviet Union to the brink of nuclear war and fuelled a real fear of an impending apocalypse. An August 18th 1961 article in Time highlighted this fear—a fear that a post-apocalyptic world would become highly invidualised and certainly compatible with American ideology—but questioned the legitimacy of its moral righteousness.[22] The contrast between the Second Amendment and the Christian ethic of reciprocity, ‘love thy neighbour’, are highlighted as paradoxical and radically incompatible in American society.[23] The author reported on the increase in Americans arming their bomb-shelters with extensive caches of weaponry not only to fend off any Soviet attack, but to defend themselves from fellow Americans, neighbours, who failed to adequately prepare for war. The article focused on Texan hardware store owner Charles Davis, who was prepared to unleash tear gas on his neighbours if they claimed his shelter before him. A photograph shows Davis posing with his family in their shelter openly displaying rifles and handguns.

In response to the article, on August 25th Time readers either gave their support for Davis or were reviled by his supposed lack of value for human life. Of the first four responses, three were penned by men, all in favour of Davis’ heavily armed shelter. Cecil R. Coale Jr. from Austin, Texas commended Davis by suggesting, “It is indeed wonderful to see there are still some Americans around who are able to think for themselves without aid from the Federal Government,” he then concludes, “Guns are man’s best friend”.[24] Concerned by his own apartment block’s lack of a shelter, Bill Francis, a Californian, nevertheless found solace in the fact Davis would survive a nuclear attack. Aside from two women debating the finer points of Christian theology and its relationship to shelters, one lone woman’s voice, Marjorie Hoffman of Detroit, finds Davis’ attitude monstrous and suggests, “I, for one, would not knock on his [shelter] door”.[25] The fear of nuclear attack not only made some Americans vigilant, but it turned them on each other. This highly individualised paranoia plays itself out in Dr. Stangelove when General Ripper virulently defends his base against fellow American troops by ordering, “I would sooner accept a few casualties through accidents rather losing the entire base and its personnel through carelessness.” These are similar to the amoral sentiments expressed by General Turgidson regarding acceptance of millions of casualties for the sake of a proactive strike. President Muffley in response scoffs at Turgidsen, “I will not go down in history as the greatest mass murderer since Adolf Hitler.” War, especially not nuclear war, cannot simply be regarded a dehumanised exercise in game theory, it has serious moral consequences that when taken into consideration trump any perceived strategic benefits.

The plot of Dr. Strangelove could be interpreted as analogous to the technical explanation of a nuclear weapon’s detonation. When read in this manner it can offer further layers of moral questioning to what was the unleashing of the most awesome power ever achieved by humanity. Kubrick follows the consequences of a deliberate, yet unwarranted, and unstable decision by General Ripper to attack the Soviet Union. The decision was precise and calculated but soon spiraled beyond control—one small decision by a single human unleashed its own doomsday. This is where the parallel between the plot and nuclear detonation can be observed: it begins with a small, deliberate, and calculated act, to produce a chain reaction that goes vastly beyond the control of the individual who started it. Two unstable and enriched subcritical masses of uranium-235, initially separated, are forced together at a very high velocity with a small but controlled conventional explosion. The two masses of uranium reach a critical mass and undergo a fission chain reaction. Anyone who has had to deal with Einstein’s famous equation, E = mc², in their high school physics class knows that even a small amount of mass can unleash a disproportionally enormous quantity of energy—and when released, it is essentially unstoppable. Again, Kahn’s comments regarding the Doomsday Device, “there is no chance of human intervention, control, and final decision,” expressed the out-of-control nature of nuclear weapons.[26]

Sterling Hayden as Brigadier General Jack D. Ripper

Can spitting the atom be the ultimate moral barrier? Was Kubrick implying that the ability to unleash power hitherto reserved for God, simultaneously killed God and left a moral vacuum? Dostoyevsky elaborated similar sentiment in The Brothers Karamazov (1880) by suggesting that without God, everything is permitted. In an article in The New York Times on February 17th 1964, Brooklyn based minister Reverend Donald W. McKinney suggested that Dr. Strangelove could be understood in Freudian terms: it was an example of a nightmarish dream and humanity’s inherent death drive.[27] Kubrick insinuated, “… the only way to tell the story was as a black comedy, or better, a nightmare comedy, where the things you laugh at are really at the heart of the paradoxical postures that make nuclear war possible.”[28] Einstein himself knew all too well the power of the bomb, and he, along with several other Nobel laureates, including prominent British philosopher Bertrand Russell, issued a manifesto in 1955 publicly condemning nuclear weapons by appeal to universal morality. Without restraint, the manifesto declares, any future war involving nuclear weapons would almost certainly bring, "universal death, sudden only for a minority, but for the majority a slow torture of disease and disintegration."[29] This is one of the earliest public condemnations of nuclear weapons, a bursting forth from an undercurrent of unease and moral outrage. This progressing of the Atomic Age can be understood as the quiet cementing of a alternative voice of reason that occasionally broke through the surface of the disillusioned moral nihilism of status quo and manifested itself publicly as bold statements such as Dr. Strangelove. The remainder of the 1960s opened the floodgates for moral critique, not just regarding nuclear policy, but issues of class, race, gender, homosexuality, freedom of speech, and war. Paul Coates, writing for The Los Angeles Times on May 10th, 1964, praised Dr. Strangelove in response to conservative criticism, a sure sign of shifting political discourse, by arguing, “… we may hope that these occasional glimpses of a democracy correcting its errors will make them think more aggressively about freedom before long.”[30]

Stanley Kubrick on the set of Dr. Strangelove

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[1] Friedrich Nietzsche, The Gay Science; With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs, trans. Walter Arnold Kaufmann, New York, 1974.

[2] Bosley Crowther, 'Hysterical Laughter: Further Thoughts on 'Dr. Strangelove' and it's Jokes About the Bomb', in The New York Times, February 16th, 1964.

[3] Stanley Kubrick quoted in Grant B. Stillman, ‘Two of the MADdest Scientists: Where Strangelove Meets Dr. No; or, Unexpected Roots for Kubrick’s Cold War Classic’, Film History, 20, 4, 2008, p. 488.

[4] Iain McLean and Alistair McMillan have asserted realism, “emphasises the competitive on conflictual side of international relations. The idea of the balance of power is one of the most long standing analytical tools in realism … and the more specific analysis of military relations in strategic studies.” Oxford Concise Dictionary of Politics Third Edition, Oxford, 2009, s.v. ‘realism’.

[5] Margot A. Henriksen, Dr. Strangelove's America: Society and Culture in the Atomic Age, Berkeley, 1997, p. xxii.

[6] ibid., pp xxii-xxiii.

[7] Scott C. Zeman and Michael A. Amundson, Atomic Culture: How We Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb, Boulder, 2004, pp. 2-6.

[8] The Simpsons creator Matt Groening is also known for being an avid Kubrick fan. Many of the memorable motifs from Kubrick's films have been parodied on the show including Dr. Strangelove.

[9] Stillman, ‘Two of the MADest Scientists’, p. 488.

[10] Stephen J. Whitfield, The Culture of the Cold War Second Edition, Baltimore, 1996, pp. 219-221.

[11] ibid.

[12] Herman Kahn, On Thermonuclear War, Princeton, 1961, p. 147.

[13] Michael S. Sherry, In the Shadow of War: The United States Since the 1930s, New Haven, 1995, p. 241.

[14] ibid.

[15] John F. Kennedy, ‘Remarks of Senator John F. Kennedy, in the Senate, August 14, 1958’, John F. Kennedy Presidential Museum, retrieved October 6th, 2015, http://www.jfklibrary.org/Research/Research-Aids/JFK-Speeches/United-States-Senate-Military-Power_19580814.aspx

[16] Warren Kozak, The Life and Wars of General Curtis LeMay, Washington D.C., 2009, p. 314.

[17] Louis Carter and Paul DeWitt, ‘Love That Bomb’, [audio recording], 1964.

[18] Henriksen, p. 189.

[19] ibid.

[20] ‘Theology: Toward a Hidden God’, in Time, April 8th, 1966.

[21] ibid.

[22] ‘Gun Thy Neighbor?’, in Time, August 18th, 1961.

[23] The parallels between nuclear deterrence and the conservative pro-gun arguments can be discerned in this sense. If all are armed, then there is no incentive to attack another.

[24] ‘Letters’, in Time, August 25th, 1961.

[25] ibid; Dr. Strangelove was perhaps a film that resonated the absurdity of nuclear war with women more profoundly. Women Strike for Peace sponsored a benefit showing of the film in Washington to raise funds to send two delegates to The Hague to take part in the Women’s Multinational Peace Rally. ‘Strangelove Benefit’, in The Washington Post, March 4th, 1964. See also Lawrence S. Wittner, Resisting the Bomb: A History of the World Nuclear Disarmament Movement 1954-1970, Stanford, 1997, p. 299.

[26] Kahn, On Thermonuclear War, p. 147.

[27] 'Minister Praises 'Dr. Strangelove': Unitarian Sees Harsh Truth Beneath Film's Fantasy' in The New York Times, February 17th, 1964.

[28] Stanley Kubrick quoted in Whitfield, The Culture of the Cold War, p. 220.

[29] Russell, Bertrand, and Albert Einstein, et al., ‘The Russell-Einstein Manifesto’, July 9th, 1955.

[30] Paul Coates, 'A Thing You Can Think About', in The Los Angeles Times, May 10th, 1964.

———————————————————————————————————————— "... we can explore space together, both inner and outer, forever in peace." —W. M. Hicks.