"At most times it lies far in the back of my mind, a mere distant cloud, a memory, and a faint distrust; but there are times when the little cloud spreads until it obscures the whole sky. Then I look about me at my fellow-men; and I go in fear. I see faces, keen and bright; others dull or dangerous; others, unsteady, insincere,—none that have the calm authority of a reasonable soul." (The Island of Dr. Moreau, H.G. Wells)

The Men Who Designed The World

1.
The informal meeting that was to decide the future of the world took place in october 1945 in The Roman Bath Guest House on Warminster Road in Bath Somerset, England, after the mandatory tourist visit to the Thermae Bath Spa, the sole geothermal spring of England, and the nearby Bath Abbey.

As the only American Robert Oppenheimer was unaware of the existence of the site, and he took great delight in both the Gothic cathedral and the history of the hot baths. The Bath Abbey, in particular, appealed to his imaginative temper and melancholic mood, which had worsened after the repetitive FBI hearings with which he was bothered at home.

Oppenheimer, they say, listened with withheld breath to Albert Einstein’s dry account of the process that leads the rain water from Mendip Hills 14,000 feet down below the surface, where it is heated to about 200 degrees Fahrenheit and pressurized to rise up through the cracks in the limestone.

He was less interested in the actual experience, ignoring the suggestions that he tried the hot bath for its therapeutic effects, and none of the others were particularly excited to get physically involved with the geothermal spring either.

Niels Bohr, born and raised in Denmark, was more interested in the cultural history of the place and eagerly questioned John Tolkien about the history of the hot baths. Even if Tolkien was not as well versed in the history of the Roman occupation as one might have expected, he gave a reasonably detailed account of the process that led to the destruction of the baths in the sixth century.

”The conquest of England”, Tolkien explained, “was a halfhearted project. The Romans had already exhausted their appetite for conquest and as such their measures to counter the insurrections were doomed to failure.”

The question of the decline and fall of the Roman empire was, of course, a matter of great interest to the visitors, as it subtly touched on the topic of their gathering.
Tolkien rejected most aspects of Gibbon’s multi-causal explanation: Neither the influence of Christianity, which was of course a favorite to Russell, nor the use of German mercenaries and the terror of the Praetorian Guard, which Oppenheimer saw as a major contributor – were greatly instrumental, in the view of Tolkien, to Rome’s failures.

“Of the reasons given by Gibbon I think the lack of great generals is the most reliable”, Tolkien argued, “but that in itself is just a symptom. The greater underlying problem was the decay of the myths. The Roman mobilization was based on a notion very similar to Manifest Destiny, the idea that Rome was founded by the sons of Mars, and that Mars had given the twins the promise that the city would ever be victorious for as long as it kept its appetite for conquest.”

“But isn’t that also a question of logistics”, suggested Clive Lewis, who was perhaps the participant who felt most as the odd one out in the group of great scientists and renowned thinkers. “It had to be an enormous burden for Rome to transport troops and supplies across Europe and across the channel to sustain their foothold on British soil.”

“I think the resource issue is exaggerated”, Tolkien replied. The other visitors kept silent during much of their discussion, sensing about the two old friends an ongoing debate relating to many complex issues of which they weren’t too familiar, and some level of collegial competition.

“Conquest provides spoil, which in itself is a primary motivation for expansion. It was, as I see it, more of a question of distribution of resources. The focus was increasingly on Rome and decreasingly on the colonies, which also explains the tendency to pay off mercenaries to guard them. Rome was, as we know, growing decadent, with people in power embracing a form of hedonism incompatible with the former martial virtues, where most politicians and officials took pride in showing off their battle scars.”

The old men were waddling slowly along in the manner of people promenading after a rich dinner, sometimes staring into the horizon or studying the lush vegetation around them or looking into the ground beneath them in contemplation of Tolkien’s exposition and the subtle questions it raised with regard to the reason for their meeting.

“The fact of the matter is that Romans were no longer interested in expansion, and as such the birth myth lost its power. They did not have a vision for the future.”

“Without a vision the people perishes”, Clive Lewis interjected.

“The birth myth was what kept Rome together. Without the momentum of perpetual conquest…”

Tolkien paused and looked around at the visitors for whom he had become a local guide, which was perhaps the role Niels Bohr had intended for him. It was as if he only then woke up and realized the striking parallels between his account and the political problems of his own age.

“Myths have a tremendous power over people, even today,” he said.

Bohr, the man one whose initiative the uneven fellowship had been brought together, smiled and said:

“Signs and symbols rule the world, not words nor laws.”

Part 2