The Satanic Cosmic Force 119
Second: the sheer scope of nuclear annihilation precludes any moral justification of Hiroshima through Auschwitz. The fact that with a mere pressing
of a button one can achieve an unprecedented totality of destruction puts
atomic bombing on a different plane from even the horrendous efficiency of
the Nazi gas chambers. For Grossman, the quantitative leap in destruction
thus results in a qualitative leap from genocide to omnicide. 52
In a most subtle and differentiated way, Grossman analyzes the moral quandaries involved in the atomic bombing. His story exposes the defense mechanisms that make such an act possible by enabling the men of the Enola Gay to
block out the moral implications of their deed. It specifically focuses on two
psychological mechanisms often referred to as “doubling” and “dissociation”
(or “splitting”). 53 Barrens, the (fictitious) first pilot of the Enola Gay, provides
us with a prime example of doubling. To his colleagues, Barrens is known for
his unemotional, never-failing efficiency in the deadly business of bombing.
To his friends and family, he is a passionate gardener with a deep love for
creaturely life. Never do the two aspects of his personality interfere. In fact,
the small-handed man in an oilcloth apron seems physically incompatible
with the master of the joystick capable of killing thousands of people: 54
Those who visited him at home and those who flew tactical flights with
him found themselves unable to mentally unite the little man with his
oilcloth apron and green watering can, who eloquently dwelled on the
specifics of color and shape of the tulips grown by him, with the outstanding pilot, a tight-lipped and tough man, who showed neither nerves
nor emotion.
This professional schizophrenia allows both gardener and bomber to go about
their business as if the respective other were non-existent.
The factual distance that modern warfare, with its reliance on highly
developed technological weapons, puts between killer and victim allows
Grossman’s protagonists to distance themselves both emotionally and morally from their deed, a process often described as dissociation. The crew of
the Enola Gay acts as if technology and guilt were in inverse proportion.
One of its members likens their perspective to looking through the reverse
end of binoculars: the greater the distance, the less the moral responsibility. 55
(Significantly, the crew does not even know the name of the city they are
about to wipe out.)
For most of the men these mechanisms work: the dropping of the bomb
fills them with professional satisfaction, and they look forward to a welldeserved vacation. Grossman makes sure, however, that both doubling and
dissociation are exposed as fallacy: they may soothe one’s conscience, but
they do not exonerate from responsibility for one’s acts. The question of
individual guilt remains unsolved.
After the Hiroshima bombing, the first pilot Barrens, who so conveniently
alternated between benign gardener and ruthless bomber, suddenly finds the
Second: the sheer scope of nuclear annihilation precludes any moral justification of Hiroshima through Auschwitz. The fact that with a mere pressing
of a button one can achieve an unprecedented totality of destruction puts
atomic bombing on a different plane from even the horrendous efficiency of
the Nazi gas chambers. For Grossman, the quantitative leap in destruction
thus results in a qualitative leap from genocide to omnicide. 52
In a most subtle and differentiated way, Grossman analyzes the moral quandaries involved in the atomic bombing. His story exposes the defense mechanisms that make such an act possible by enabling the men of the Enola Gay to
block out the moral implications of their deed. It specifically focuses on two
psychological mechanisms often referred to as “doubling” and “dissociation”
(or “splitting”). 53 Barrens, the (fictitious) first pilot of the Enola Gay, provides
us with a prime example of doubling. To his colleagues, Barrens is known for
his unemotional, never-failing efficiency in the deadly business of bombing.
To his friends and family, he is a passionate gardener with a deep love for
creaturely life. Never do the two aspects of his personality interfere. In fact,
the small-handed man in an oilcloth apron seems physically incompatible
with the master of the joystick capable of killing thousands of people: 54
Those who visited him at home and those who flew tactical flights with
him found themselves unable to mentally unite the little man with his
oilcloth apron and green watering can, who eloquently dwelled on the
specifics of color and shape of the tulips grown by him, with the outstanding pilot, a tight-lipped and tough man, who showed neither nerves
nor emotion.
This professional schizophrenia allows both gardener and bomber to go about
their business as if the respective other were non-existent.
The factual distance that modern warfare, with its reliance on highly
developed technological weapons, puts between killer and victim allows
Grossman’s protagonists to distance themselves both emotionally and morally from their deed, a process often described as dissociation. The crew of
the Enola Gay acts as if technology and guilt were in inverse proportion.
One of its members likens their perspective to looking through the reverse
end of binoculars: the greater the distance, the less the moral responsibility. 55
(Significantly, the crew does not even know the name of the city they are
about to wipe out.)
For most of the men these mechanisms work: the dropping of the bomb
fills them with professional satisfaction, and they look forward to a welldeserved vacation. Grossman makes sure, however, that both doubling and
dissociation are exposed as fallacy: they may soothe one’s conscience, but
they do not exonerate from responsibility for one’s acts. The question of
individual guilt remains unsolved.
After the Hiroshima bombing, the first pilot Barrens, who so conveniently
alternated between benign gardener and ruthless bomber, suddenly finds the