James Whitlock, MD, father and neurologist, of Sandown, is a member of the Greater Boston Physicians for Social Responsibility. After many years engaged in neurological rehabilitation of brain-injured adults, he worked with TBI/Polytrauma and Neurology services at the Manchester NH VA before retiring.

I first became aware of nuclear weapons when I was in the third grade. It was the autumn of 1962, the Cuban missile crisis. I lived in Ormond Beach, Florida. We were told that evil communists were threatening to blow us all up from their new missile base in Cuba. I believed that, being so close, we were an easy target.

When I asked my Dad why we weren’t building a fallout shelter, he told me “you can’t dig a hole in Florida because it will just fill with water.” Then he casually added that a fallout shelter wouldn’t really help anyway if there was a nuclear attack. For the rest of my grade school years, I had fantasies of escaping nuclear annihilation by sailing north on a small boat with a comfortable bed in the cabin.

During the next decade, my nuclear education added concepts of radiation sickness, the menace of a hostile, massively armed Soviet Union, and “arms race.” “Thermonuclear” entered my vocabulary. “Red” China joined the atomic club. I came to view nuclear apocalypse as an inevitable thing. When I graduated from high school I was sure I would never see thirty.

I lived like there was no tomorrow, thoroughly enjoying university years in maritime Canada. Age 30 came and went. My nuclear activism was limited to donations to International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War and an occasional letter to my congressional representative protesting the MX missile and the neutron bomb.

The Cold War ended.

The fear of nuclear terrorism took the place of fear of nuclear war. I couldn’t imagine what would protect us from a “loose nuke” that fell into the hands of a terrorist. Despite the many distractions of a busy life, I lived with a buried fear of nuclear cataclysm.

Shortly after I retired from medical practice in June of 2023, I happened to read an obituary of Daniel Ellsberg (the man who leaked the Pentagon Papers to the Washington Post). I was surprised to learn that Ellsberg had been employed by RAND as an analyst engaged in nuclear war planning during the 1960s. I was even more surprised to learn that he came to deeply regret his part in designing nuclear policy and spent the rest of his life as an anti-war and anti-nuclear activist.

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When I read Ellsberg’s 2017 book “The Doomsday Machine: Confessions of a Nuclear War Planner,” I was transfixed. Ellsberg presents a riveting argument for the position that nuclear risks are the ultimate threat to humanity, but they are also completely reversible. The “Doomsday Machine” gave me the first inkling that perhaps I could do something to address nuclear risk. I discovered I could work to support several current legislative initiatives aimed at reducing nuclear risks. I found opportunities to attend forums where nuclear policy is debated. I’m learning about opportunities for assisting in public education.

Having immersed myself in the study of all things nuclear, I am convinced that the problems are solvable. Massive worldwide nuclear ban activism in the 80s influenced multilateral nuclear disarmament. In the early 90s the combined nuclear arsenals of the U.S. and Russia (then USSR) decreased from over 70,000 to about 20,000, continuing to trend down to the current 11,000 +/- warheads. In 2017, following intensive work by many non-governmental organizations, a majority of nations adopted the U.N. Treaty for Prohibition of Nuclear Weapons. Large numbers of average people fueled these changes.

Now, nine months into my new vocation as a student of nuclear disarmament and aspiring anti-nuclear weapon activist, I am convinced that the hands of the ”Doomsday Clock” can be moved backward. But this can only happen if a critical mass of well-informed people demand changes that increase the security of all nations. I’m sure that even a very limited nuclear detonation somewhere on the planet would quickly raise the necessary awareness. Major reforms would follow. But wouldn’t it be better to create this awareness and support before the next nuclear calamity?

The risk of nuclear war has never been greater. But you can join those who are working for needed change. Whether retired or not, please check out Back from the Brink. If you have a healthcare background, look at Physicians for Social Responsibility. At the very least, please learn what you can about the risks (you might start with ”Nuclear War: A Scenario” by Annie Jacobsen) and challenge your elected representatives to explain what they are doing to increase our security. The lives of your children and grandchildren depend on what we are doing right now.