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The World’s Most Dangerous Nuclear Weapon Just Rolled Off the Assembly Line
13
February, 2019
With
the creation of a new “mini-nuke” warhead, the US is making
nuclear war all the more probable...
Last
month, the National Nuclear Security Administration (formerly the
Atomic Energy Commission) announced that the
first of a new generation of strategic nuclear weapons had rolled
off the
assembly line at its Pantex nuclear weapons plant in the panhandle of
Texas.
That
warhead, the W76-2, is designed to be fitted to a submarine-launched
Trident missile, a weapon with a range of more than 7,500 miles. By
September, an undisclosed number of warheads will be delivered to
the Navy for deployment.
What
makes this particular nuke new is the fact that it carries a far
smaller destructive
payload than the thermonuclear monsters the Trident has been hosting
for decades -
not the equivalent of about 100 kilotons of TNT as previously, but of
five kilotons. According
to Stephen
Young of the Union of Concerned Scientists, the W76-2 will yield
“only” about one-third of the devastating power of the weapon
that the Enola
Gay,
an American B-29 bomber, dropped on Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. Yet
that very shrinkage of the power to devastate is precisely what makes
this nuclear weapon potentially the most dangerous ever manufactured.
Fulfilling the Trump administration’s quest for
nuclear-war-fighting “flexibility,” it isn’t designed as a
deterrent against another country launching its nukes;
it’s
designed to be used. This is the weapon that could make the
previously “unthinkable” thinkable.
There
have long been “low-yield” nuclear weapons in the arsenals of the
nuclear powers, including
ones on cruise missiles, “air-drop bombs” (carried by planes),
and even nuclear artillery shells — weapons designated as
“tactical” and intended to be used in the confines of a specific
battlefield or in a regional theater of war.
The
vast majority of them were, however, eliminated in the nuclear arms
reductions that followed the end of the Cold War, a
scaling-down by both the United States and Russia that would be
quietly greeted with relief by battlefield commanders, those actually
responsible for the potential use of such ordnance who understood its
self-destructive absurdity.
Ranking
some weapons as “low-yield” based on their destructive energy
always depended on a distinction that reality made meaningless (once
damage from radioactivity and atmospheric fallout was taken into
account along with the unlikelihood that only one such weapon would
be used). In fact, the elimination of tactical nukes represented a
hard-boiled confrontation with the iron law of escalation, another
commander’s insight — that any use of such a weapon against a
similarly armed adversary would likely ignite an inevitable chain of
nuclear escalation whose end point was barely imaginable. One side
was never going to take a hit without responding in kind, launching a
process that could rapidly spiral toward an apocalyptic exchange.
“Limited nuclear war,” in other words, was a fool’s fantasy and
gradually came to be universally acknowledged as such. No longer,
unfortunately.
Unlike
tactical weapons, intercontinental strategic nukes were designed to
directly target the far-off homeland of an enemy. Until now, their
extreme destructive power (so many times greater than that inflicted
on Hiroshima) made it impossible to imagine genuine scenarios for
their use that would be practically, not to mention morally,
acceptable. It was exactly to remove that practical inhibition —
the moral one seemed not to count — that the Trump administration
recently began
the process of
withdrawing from the Cold War-era Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces
Treaty, while rolling a new “limited” weapon off the assembly
line and so altering the Trident system. With these acts, there can
be little question that humanity is entering a perilous second
nuclear age.
That
peril lies in the way a 70-year-old inhibition that undoubtedly saved
the planet is potentially being shelved in a new world of supposedly
“usable”
nukes.
Of
course, a weapon with one-third the destructive power of the bomb
dropped on Hiroshima, where as many as 150,000 died, might kill
50,000 people in a similar attack before escalation even began. Of
such nukes, former Secretary of State George Shultz, who was at
President Ronald Reagan’s elbow when Cold War-ending arms control
negotiations climaxed, said,
“A nuclear weapon is a nuclear weapon. You use a small one, then
you go to a bigger one. I think nuclear weapons are nuclear weapons
and we need to draw the line there.”
HOW CLOSE TO MIDNIGHT?
Until
now, it’s been an anomaly of the nuclear age that some of the
fiercest critics of such weaponry were drawn from among the very
people who created it.
The
emblem of that is the Bulletin
of Atomic Scientists,
a bimonthly journal founded after the bombings of Hiroshima and
Nagasaki by veteran scientists from the Manhattan Project, which
created the first nuclear weapons. (Today, that magazine’s sponsors
include 14
Nobel Laureates.)
Beginning in 1947, the Bulletin’s
cover has functioned annually as a kind of nuclear alarm, featuring a
so-called Doomsday Clock, its minute hand always approaching
“midnight” (defined as the moment of nuclear catastrophe).
In
that first year, the hand was positioned at seven minutes to
midnight. In 1949, after the Soviet Union acquired its first atomic
bomb, it inched up to three minutes before midnight. Over the years,
it has been reset every January to register waxing and waning levels
of nuclear jeopardy.
In
1991, after the end of the Cold War, it was set back to 17 minutes
and then, for a few hope-filled years, the clock disappeared
altogether.
It
came back in 2005 at seven minutes to midnight. In 2007, the
scientists began factoring climate degradation into the assessment
and the hands moved inexorably forward.
By
2018, after a year of Donald Trump, it clocked in at two minutes to
midnight, a shrill alarm meant to signal a return to the greatest
peril ever: the two-minute level reached only once before, 65
years earlier. Last
month, within days of the announced manufacture of the first W76-2,
theBulletin’scover
for 2019 was unveiled,
still at that desperate two-minute mark, aka the edge of doom.
To
fully appreciate how precarious our situation is today, the Bulletin
of Atomic Scientistsimplicitly
invites us to return to that other two-minutes-before-midnight
moment.
If
the manufacture of a new low-yield nuclear weapon marks a decisive
pivot back toward jeopardy, consider it an irony that the last such
moment involved the manufacture of the extreme opposite sort of nuke:
a “super” weapon, as it was then called, or a hydrogen bomb. That
was in 1953 and what may have been the most fateful turn in the
nuclear story until now had just occurred.
After
the Soviets exploded their first atomic bomb in 1949, the United
States embarked on a crash program to build a far more powerful
nuclear weapon. Having been decommissioned after World War II, the
Pantex plant was reactivated and has been the main source of American
nukes ever since.
The
atomic bomb is a fission weapon, meaning the nuclei of atoms are
split into parts whose sum total weighs less than the original atoms,
the difference having been transformed into energy. A hydrogen bomb
uses the intense heat generated by that “fission”
(hence thermonuclear)
as a trigger for a vastly more powerful “fusion,” or combining,
of elements, which results in an even larger loss of mass being
transformed into explosive energy of a previously unimagined sort.
One H-bomb generates explosive force 100 to 1,000 times the
destructive power of the Hiroshima bomb.
Given
a kind of power that humans once only imagined in the hands of the
gods, key former Manhattan Project scientists, including Enrico
Fermi, James Conant, and J. Robert Oppenheimer, firmly
opposed the
development of such a new weapon as a potential threat to the human
species. The Super Bomb would be, in Conant’s word, “genocidal.”
Following the lead of those scientists, members of the Atomic Energy
Commission recommended — by a vote of three to two — against
developing such a fusion weapon, but President Truman ordered it done
anyway.
In
1952, as the first H-bomb test approached, still-concerned atomic
scientists proposed that the test be indefinitely postponed to avert
a catastrophic “super” competition with the Soviets. They
suggested that an approach be made to Moscow to mutually limit
thermonuclear development only to research on, not actual testing of,
such weaponry, especially since none of this could truly be done in
secret. A fusion bomb’s test explosion would be readily detectable
by the other side, which could then proceed with its own testing
program. The scientists urged Moscow and Washington to draw just the
sort of arms control line that the two nations would indeed agree to
many years later.
At
the time, the United States had the initiative. An out-of-control
arms race with the potential accumulation of thousands of such
weapons on both sides had not yet really begun. In 1952, the United
States numbered its atomic arsenal in the low hundreds; the Soviet
Union in the dozens. (Even those numbers, of course, already offered
a vision of an Armageddon-like global war.) President Truman
considered the proposal to indefinitely postpone the test. It was
then backed by figures like Vannevar Bush, who headed the Office of
Scientific Research and Development, which had overseen the wartime
Manhattan Protect. Scientists like him already grasped the lesson
that would only slowly dawn on policymakers — that every advance in
the atomic capability of one of the superpowers would inexorably lead
the other to match it, ad
infinitum. The
title of the bestselling James Jones novel of that moment caught the
feeling perfectly: From
Here to Eternity.
In
the last days of his presidency, however, Truman decided against such
an indefinite postponement of the test — against, that is, a break
in the nuke-accumulation momentum that might well have changed
history. On November 1, 1952, the first H-bomb — “Mike” —
was detonated on
an island in the Pacific. It had 500 times more lethal force than the
bomb that obliterated Hiroshima. With a fireball more than three
miles wide, not only did it destroy the three-story structure built
to house it but also the entire island of Elugelab, as well as parts
of several nearby islands.
In
this way, the thermonuclear age began and the assembly line at that
same Pantex plant really started to purr. Less than 10 years
later, the United States had 20,000 nukes, mostly H-bombs; Moscow,
fewer than 2,000. And
three months after that first test, theBulletin
of the Atomic Scientists moved
that hand on its still new clock to two minutes before midnight.
A MADMAN-THEORY VERSION OF THE WORLD
It
may seem counterintuitive to compare the manufacture of what’s
called a “mini-nuke” to the creation of the “super” almost
six decades ago, but honestly, what meaning can “mini” really
have when we’re talking about nuclear war?
The
point is that, as in 1952, so in 2019 another era-shaping threshold
is being crossed at the very same weapons plant in the high plains
country of the Texas Panhandle, where so many instruments of mayhem
have been created. Ironically, because the H-bomb was eventually
understood to be precisely what the dissenting scientists had claimed
it was — a genocidal weapon — pressures against its use proved
insurmountable during almost four decades of savage East-West
hostility. Today, the Trident-mounted W76-2 could well have quite a
different effect — its first act of destruction potentially being
the obliteration of the long-standing, post-Hiroshima
and Nagasaki taboo
against nuclear use. In other words, so many years after the island
of Elugelab was wiped from the face of the Earth, the “absolute
weapon” is finally being normalized.
With
President Trump expunging the
theoretical from Richard Nixon’s “madman theory” — that
former president’s conviction that an opponent should fear an
American leader was so unstable he might actually push the nuclear
button — what is to be done?
Once
again, nuke-skeptical scientists, who have grasped the essential
problems in the nuclear conundrum with crystal clarity for three
quarters of a century, are pointing the way. In 2017, the Union of
Concerned Scientists, together with Physicians for Social
Responsibility, launched Back
from the Brink: The Call to Prevent Nuclear War, “a national
grassroots initiative seeking to fundamentally change U.S. nuclear
weapons policy and lead us away from the dangerous path we are on.”
Engaging
a broad coalition of civic organizations, municipalities, religious
groups, educators, and scientists, it aims to lobby government bodies
at every level, to raise the nuclear issue in every forum, and to
engage an ever-wider group of citizens in pressing for change in
American nuclear policy.
Back
From the Brink makes five
demands,
much needed in a world in which the U.S. and Russia are withdrawing
from a key Cold-War-era nuclear treaty with more potentially to come,
including the New START pact that expires two
years from now.
The
five demands are:
-
No to first use of nukes. (Senator Elizabeth Warren and Representative Adam Smith only recently introduced a No First Use Act in both houses of Congress to stop Trump and future presidents from launching a nuclear war.)
-
End the unchecked launch-authority of the president. (Last month, Senator Edward Markey and Representative Ted Lieu reintroduced a bill that would do just that.)
-
No to nuclear hair-triggers.
-
No to endlessly renewing and replacing the arsenal (as the U.S. is now doing to the tune of perhaps $1.6 trillion over three decades).
-
Yes to an abolition agreement among nuclear-armed states.
These
demands range from the near-term achievable to the long-term hoped
for, but as a group they define what clear-eyed realism should be in
Donald Trump’s new version of our never-ending nuclear age.
In
the upcoming season of presidential politics, the nuclear question
belongs at the top of every candidate’s agenda.
It
belongs at the center of every forum and at the heart of every
voter’s decision. Action is needed before the W76-2 and its
successors teach a post-Hiroshima planet what nuclear war is truly
all about.
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