Brian Klaas writes:

On 30 October 1926, Henry and Mabel Stimson stepped off a steam train in Kyoto, Japan and set in motion an unbroken chain of events that, two decades later, led to the deaths of 140,000 people in a city more than 300 km away.

The American couple began their short holiday in Japan’s former imperial capital by walking from the railway yard to their room at the nearby Miyako Hotel. It was autumn. The maples had turned crimson, and the ginkgo trees had burst into a golden shade of yellow. Henry chronicled a ‘beautiful day devoted to sightseeing’ in his diary.

Nineteen years later, he had become the Unites States Secretary of War, the chief civilian overseeing military operations in the Second World War, and would soon join a clandestine committee of soldiers and scientists tasked with deciding how to use the first atomic bomb. One Japanese city ticked several boxes: the former imperial capital. The Target Committee agreed that Kyoto must be destroyed. They drew up a tactical bombing map and decided to aim for the city’s railway yard, just around the corner from the Miyako Hotel where the Stimsons had stayed in 1926.

Stimson pleaded with the president Harry Truman not to bomb Kyoto. He sent cables in protest. The generals began referring to Kyoto as Stimson’s ‘pet city’. Eventually, Truman acquiesced, removing Kyoto from the list of targets. On 6 August 1945, Hiroshima was bombed instead.

The next atomic bomb was intended for Kokura, a city at the tip of Japan’s southern island of Kyushu. On the morning of 9 August, three days after Hiroshima was destroyed, six US B-29 bombers were launched, including the strike plane Bockscar. Around 10:45am, Bockscar prepared to release its payload. But, according to the flight log, the target ‘was obscured by heavy ground haze and smoke’. The crew decided not to risk accidentally dropping the atomic bomb in the wrong place.

Bockscar then headed for the secondary target, Nagasaki. But it, too, was obscured. Running low on fuel, the plane prepared to return to base, but a momentary break in the clouds gave the bombardier a clear view of the city. Unbeknown to anyone below, Nagasaki was bombed due to passing clouds over Kokura. To this day, the Japanese refer to ‘Kokura’s luck’ when one unknowingly escapes disaster.

Roughly 200,000 people died in the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki – and not Kyoto and Kokura – largely due to one couple’s vacation two decades earlier and some passing clouds. But if such random events could lead to so many deaths and change the direction of a globally destructive war, how are we to understand or predict the fates of human society? Where, in the models of social change, are we supposed to chart the variables for travel itineraries and clouds?

In the 1970s, the British mathematician George Box quipped that ‘all models are wrong, but some are useful’. But today, many of the models we use to describe our social world are neither right nor useful. There is a better way. And it doesn’t entail a futile search for regular patterns in the maddening complexity of life. Instead, it involves learning to navigate the chaos of our social worlds. [Continue reading…]