At the start of this year, Clark was bustling hive of progress. Industries were blossoming. Small businesses were sprouting left, right, and center. And economic futures were growing so fast that you could even hear the soft mystical whisper of the words “return on investment” whenever a Clark-bound plane would fly overhead.
At the start of another year, a lifetime ago, Clark felt completely different. People kitted in dull fatigues littered the streets; and pale barracks with overly straight lines dotted the plains. Clark was a U.S. Air base in all of its proud American glory – built for function and not for soul. Everywhere you looked, the place was armed and ready. Look closely enough and you’ll see, it wasn’t just armed, it was preparing for something – something intangible, something impending. There was no word on what it was exactly or when it was bound to happen, but the threat of it was thick in the air; and it grew thicker with every bomber plane that rattled in the sky overhead.
This was the Cold War in the Philippines. While Berlin was being cut and walled, while Vietnam was being burned, Clark stood – watching and waiting. In our country’s storied history, there is not much thought given to the Cold War. Our history books might give it a paragraph in passing, but not much more. It could be because when things were heating up in the Cold War, our coffers were being delicately plundered by a brutal kleptocrat with a shoe-obsessed wife. Or maybe it could be because we were already well in the pocket of the Western Bloc when the United States so benevolently acquired our shores in 1898. In the grander scheme of things, there seemed to be more exciting things to talk about than a distant non-war about lofty ideals. Nevertheless, for how much we don’t talk about it, the Cold War remains to be the turning point in humanity’s short history.
In a hastily oversimplified nutshell, the Cold War was something like this: Picture a playground full of kids. One kid sets fire to the swing set, and two bigger kids come and beat him up and take away his matches. Let’s call these two big kids USA and the Soviet Union. While they’re basking in the gratitude of all the playground kids, they look at each other and realize they’re the two biggest and most powerful kids in the playground now. They won’t fully admit it, but the two of them are enemies now. They have all the matches and USA even has a brand new lighter that his uncle Manhattan bought. Of course, the Soviet Union starts pestering his family for a lighter and eventually he shows up the next day to the playground with a homemade one. At this point the two kids hated each other not just for being threats, but for the way they got their stuff. USA bought all of his stuff through his family’s business income, and Soviet Union had all of his stuff homemade by his entire household. It wasn’t about the playground anymore; it was about their way of life. Naturally, USA asks his dad to buy him a flamethrower next, and Soviet Union has his family make him one too. And then came rockets, and machine guns, and eventually Soviet Union’s family starts adopting the other kids in the playground. A furious USA replies by paying other kids to join his side. This goes on for a while until the entire playground is divided, the ground is built on hundreds of landmines, the see-saw is just two alligators strapped together, and there is a blanket of grenades over the whole playground hanging by two strings – one in each big kid’s hand. This was the Cold War if you stretch it out by decades and instead of the destruction of a playground, it would be the total wipeout of the human race through nuclear annihilation.
In the many thousands of years that humans have existed on earth, the Cold War was the first time that we had the power to utterly destroy everything and everyone. It was the first time that countries had entire nuclear arsenals pointed at each other just waiting for someone to make the first move. One wrong move in a nearly 50-year stalemate would have meant that Clark would be staring down the horizon and see mushroom clouds of fire and death – the blanket of grenades falling on to the playground – the end of humanity as we know it. This was our final exam. One great test of the human race to prove whether or not we move forward.
It took a while, but in the end we did pass. The stalemate ended. No shot was fired. We managed not to nuke ourselves to oblivion. We got through humanity’s final exam. To be fair, there is an argument to be made that this kind of exam happens once every lifetime. Once every lifetime, humanity has to stand together in a time of great crisis. It happened two lifetimes ago during the world wars, and then happened again against nuclear annihilation. And yes, it’s happening now in the face of climate change.
Although I’d also argue that that last one, feels completely different. It feels like the climate change exam is over and we failed, catastrophically so. Too much time bickering, not enough time picking the right answers. It feels as if, in its place, another exam is coming. Just over the horizon, a worse one looms.
There are no planes flying over Clark today. The whole place is in lockdown. The businesses are shuttered, and the glistening highways are deserted. Look closely enough, and you’ll notice, the place is preparing for something – something intangible, something impending. The air over Clark hangs heavy, like it did many years ago. At the very least, it hangs over a different Clark this time; one that’s been through this sort of thing before, one that’s been through worse. Clark will do what it always does – survive. It’s up to us to rise and meet it. I just hope we don’t burn any playgrounds down this time.