Against missile defense

Against missile defense



Publication date: June 13, 2001

Since the early 60s, the author has been in the thick of international events, communicating with various people and participating in numerous projects. The conclusion of the Anti-Ballistic Missile Treaty, the protection of Academician Sakharov, relations between China and Taiwan, conflicts in Yugoslavia, the establishment of cooperation between the KGB and the CIA, the Vietnam War, the tragedy of Cambodia, the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Watergate scandal - all this affected Jeremy Stone in one way or another, and He provides in his book many previously unpublished details of these and other events of recent history.

The most important arms control agreement of the Cold War was the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) Treaty. The titanic struggle for the conclusion of this treaty, which prohibited the creation of all (with the only exception for each side) anti-missile systems, took - from the beginning of the development of the concept to the ratification of the treaty - ten years; At various stages, a whole army of government officials and disarmament activists joined in.

My ten-year odyssey dedicated to the fight for a US-Soviet missile defense treaty began in 1963. As I remember now: I was sitting in the attic of my house in Elmsford, New York, and one thought pierced me like an electric shock.

If, I thought, one way or another could convince the Russians, who were then reportedly experimenting with a missile defense system around Tallinn, Estonia, to stop building such systems, then America could be persuaded not to build its own system. Then both sides will be able to avoid pointless expenditure on these expensive and ineffective structures, the construction of which - most dangerous of all - will spur interest on each side in the development of offensive missile weapons.

This idea fascinated me much more than the work in which I was then busy. The fact is that my arrival at the Hudson Institute in March 1962 turned out to be quite dramatic for me. The director and founder of the institute, the inimitable Herman Kahn, greeted me with the following words: “Jeremy, we are having difficulties with a one-year contract. We concluded it nine months ago, but not a word has been written yet. Now that you are working for us, we will entrust it you. Nothing grandiose is required from you - it is enough that the project is simply good." My horror was compounded by the fact that the contract, awarded to the Department of Defense's Civil Defense Office (CDO), was based on Kahn's pet idea: a strategic plan for the evacuation of American cities.

Herman hoped to convince the Soviets (his project was called "hypothetical first strike probability") that if they invaded Western Europe, the United States could respond with a first nuclear strike. A strategic urban evacuation plan, he explained, would give this threat weight and credibility because it would spare the majority of America's citizens from the direct consequences of a Soviet nuclear retaliation strike.

To a liberal like me, who at the time objected to even a reasonable fallout shelter program, this project seemed like a hellish invention. However, I still decided to stay and developed a scheme according to which the entire northeastern United States could, at least on paper, be evacuated in three days by cars and trains. When I later spoke at the Pentagon before a CSO, its director asked me if I believed the plan was feasible. “I’m very glad to hear your question,” I answered. “No, I don’t believe it!” It was a great relief for me to learn that the leadership of the CSO was alien to Herman’s fantasies and that my work would not be used and would not cause harm.

Kahn became famous after he delivered a three-day course of lectures, which was based on his book “On Thermonuclear War.” He was perhaps the only one who believed that a special strategy could and should be used in a nuclear war. Only he believed that this war could be won. Herman, however, could not be denied intelligence. It was said that when Herman took the usual testing of conscripts in 1942, he received the highest score for the entire existence of this test. Sharp-tongued, he had the appearance of a successful used-car salesman. Friends also spoke about the wit and wisdom of Herman Kahn. Squat and very fat (he weighed about 160 kilograms), Kahn attracted people to him with some kind of intellectual charm. He was always “charged,” constantly telling jokes, and his impromptu mini-lectures turned into real performances.

He believed that, like God who molded a man from clay, he could mold strategists from mere mortals. Therefore, he had no need, or rather desire, to invite prominent scientists to his institute. Because of this, he further suppressed his employees: although he encouraged discussion, few were able to defend their opinions if they differed from Kahn's.

Six months after I arrived at the Hudson Institute, in October 1962, the most dangerous episode of the Cold War broke out - the Cuban Missile Crisis. Those who worked in such a brain trust clearly understood the real danger of escalation of the conflict and the scenarios that were then in wide circulation. On October 22, President Kennedy declared: "We will consider any missile fired from Cuba against any country in the Western Hemisphere as an attack by the Soviet Union on the United States, requiring us to retaliate against the Soviet Union."

Around the same time as the Cuban Missile Crisis, Donald J. Brennan, an arms control expert, became president of the Hudson Institute (Herman retained the post of director). Brennan espoused views closer to mine. Herman and Don were generally complete opposites - not only politically, but also physically. The symbol of the institute could then be the emblem of the New York World's Fair of 1935: a tower (Don) and a sphere (Herman). They easily agreed to introduce the following rule at the Hudson Institute: “all employees weighing more than 136 kilograms or having a height of more than 193 centimeters can travel first class on business trips.”

Under Herman's leadership, the Hudson Institute carried out extensive, often not worth a damn, research that was valued for its "super idea" that made it possible to justify the contract. For example, the military commissioned a study on anti-ballistic missiles, which they were particularly interested in. Its main result was the invention of a “new” argument in favor of missile defense, which justified the military costs of conducting this research.

What was this new argument? The study argued that protecting steel mills and other critical facilities with anti-ballistic missiles would ensure their continued operation after the end of the war, otherwise a sharp drop in production would inevitably occur. This was an excellent example of Hermann's characteristic twisted argumentation, accompanied by references to hypothetical and extreme situations. I stated that I was against anti-ballistic missiles and did not want to do such research for the army. Herman retorted: “Great, we can conduct a study for the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency” (this Agency was hostile to missile defense). For the head of a political institution, striving to ensure the means of its existence, everything was completely clear. However, this approach seemed too mercantile to me, although I was happy to carry out research for the Arms Control and Disarmament Agency.

After the “electric shock” I mentioned in Elmsford, my main activity became preventing an arms race in the field of missile defense. I quickly prepared a paper for a conference in Michigan entitled "Should the Soviet Union Build an Anti-Ballistic Missile System?" It said that the United States should refrain from creating a missile defense system if (but only if!) the Soviet Union stopped developing its system. Donald Brennan's reaction to this document was favorable. As the editor of a book that was considered a kind of Bible on arms control, he was the first person to judge how important and original the ideas I presented were. To my delight, Brennan tried to attract the attention of the Secretary of Defense. That's why I came to the Hudson Institute!

In a letter dated December 3, 1963, to Adam Yarmolinsky, then a special assistant to Secretary of Defense McNamara, Brennan argued that the article was "sufficiently important and interesting to bring it to the attention of the Secretary." It argued, he explained, “very convincingly” and “with careful historical documentation” that the Soviets should not continue development. Would Yarmolinski want to make any changes to the article or show it to Mr. McNamara before the document is presented to the Russians?

Herman Kahn's reaction was more skeptical. He supported the development of missile defense and believed, like many at that time, that all new technologies would certainly be introduced. Herman sent me to Princeton to talk with the astrophysicist Freeman Dyson, who was then on the board of directors of the Hudson Institute. Hat in hand, I appeared before the famous Professor Dyson, who began to explain to me that the Russians' commitment to defense was historically conditioned and there was no need to stop them from wasting money for their own pleasure. The problem, I countered, was that for political reasons the United States would be forced to develop its own missile defense system in response. I was struck by the frankness and simplicity of Professor Dyson's answer: "I hadn't thought of that!"

Returning to the Hudson Institute, I prepared a sixty-page document, "Missile Defense and Arms Control," for December 12, 1963. In it, I suggested that we “not be the first to develop a missile defense system,” based on “tacit agreements,” and advised the Secretary of Defense to make public the estimated Soviet spending on the missile defense system in an open meeting. In addition, I recommended declassifying information available to the Department of Defense regarding the futility and ineffectiveness of past Soviet efforts to strengthen defense.

The document went on to say that some “false targets could easily neutralize the Soviet missile defense system” and mentioned non-ballistic missiles as one of the possibilities. It was also proposed to threaten the construction of its own missile defense system, which would "reduce the power of Soviet offensive missiles or require additional resources from the Soviets in order to keep up." (It was this plan that President Reagan’s staff later called his “Star Wars” program!)

A few years earlier, Brennan had said that the Pugwash Conference, organized by scientists in 1955 as part of the international peace movement and won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1977, was too cosmopolitan to allow truly private conversations to take place there. Therefore, he insisted on organizing a bilateral US-Soviet commission, a kind of Pugwash for a narrow circle. Its chairman was Harvard biochemist Paul Doty. In early 1964, Brennan informed me that Doty's group was willing to pay me one thousand dollars (five thousand in today's money) for the use of my article at an upcoming meeting with the Russians, which was to be held in late spring in Boston. Do I agree? Yes! But only if I can make a report myself. Doty reluctantly accepted the condition.

Around this time, I decided to gather all the employees of the institute (35 people) and read them a report on the topic “The improbability of the hypothetical probability of a first strike.” (The “hypothetical probability of a first strike,” as already mentioned, was Hermann’s favorite power position, seeking to make credible the threat to attack the Soviet Union with strategic weapons in response to any provocation in Europe. Realizing how difficult it was to make such a threat credible, he put forward the thesis that we must make it at least hypothetically probable. This seemed impossible to me.)

My performance was an unprecedented success. I thoroughly studied Kahn's tactics of jokes, allusions and quotes and prepared thoroughly. I had answers to all of Herman's objections, and this was the first time that I managed to defeat him. However, this success only deepened my distaste for the Hudson Institute and all such activities in general. I quit without even finding a new job and began writing a book outlining my views, after which I planned to return to mathematics.

Working from home, I quickly wrote the first chapter on “bomber disarmament,” which I circulated widely to strategists, government officials, and the like. I was very pleased to receive a kind letter from the Assistant Secretary of Defense for Systems Analysis, Alain Enthoven, despite the fact that in his letter he listed the numerous political obstacles that stood in the way of these measures. But at least someone listened to me.

What was even more important was that two organizations at once - the Princeton Center for International Studies, headed by Klaus Knorr, and the Harvard Center for International Affairs, represented by Thomas K. Schelling - offered me to work with them for a year as a research fellow. I chose Harvard.

In the late spring of 1964, Doty's research team met with the Russians. On the American side, Doty was joined by Henry Kissinger, then a Harvard professor of strategic analysis, Marshall Shulman, who later became senior adviser on the Soviet Union to Secretary of State Cyrus Vance, and Jerome B. Wisner, who was science adviser to Presidents Kennedy and Johnson. .

On the Soviet side were N. Talensky, a Soviet general (but in fact a specialist in Soviet military history), M.D. Millionshchikov, academician and vice-president of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, Vasily Emelyanov, a metallurgist who was the chief designer of tank armor during World War II, and later as the Soviet representative at the International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA), and I. Sedov, considered one of the main figures in the Soviet military-industrial complex.

Hearing my assertion that the Soviet Union should not create a missile defense system, General Talensky stated that this was nothing more than an ultimatum, and if this continued, he would leave the room. I was amazed. Marshall Shulman, who was very diplomatic, explained that my statement was not a threat, but simply a warning that the United States would inevitably react to the creation of a Soviet missile defense system.

Not giving up, after the meeting I approached Millionshchikov and said: “Well, at least one Soviet academician agrees with me: here is a quote from Artsimovich, where he says that defensive structures may turn out to be worse than offensive ones.”

Millionshchikov replied: “Artsimovich always argues with everyone.”

Kissinger later told the Russians an appropriate anecdote, which they thoroughly enjoyed: A Texas sheriff is beating up a group of communists, and one of them shouts: “Don’t hit me! I’m an anti-communist.” The sheriff continues the execution with the words: “I don’t care what kind of communist you are!”

The next morning at breakfast, Emelyanov repeated this anecdote and told me in a friendly manner: “That’s how you are, Stone: it doesn’t matter to you whether it’s missile or anti-missile forces, you hit both.” He hit the nail on the head (and turned out to be a reliable ally).

Translation by Natalia Shakhova

The entire book by J. J. Stone, “The Road Can Be Mastered by the One Who Walks,” will soon be published in RJ Anthologies. Do not miss!