Quote of the week:
“In order to know what is going to happen, one must know what has happened.” — Nicolo Machiavelli
How have we managed to avoid mushroom clouds in warfare since 1945? Deterrence has to get credit, but not as much as deterrence strengtheners would have you believe. The possession of nuclear weapons is certainly among the reasons why nuclear-armed states haven’t fought major conventional wars and haven’t used nuclear weapons when they’ve fought limited wars. But deterrence fails, and given the historical record of deterrence failure, we can’t count on deterrence to extend the period of non-battlefield use. Deterrence alone doesn’t answer our central question.
What about diplomacy and arms control? For part of the Cold War, arms control was the primary channel of communication between the United States and the Soviet Union. Diplomacy and arms control ended nuclear testing in the atmosphere almost 40 years ago, controlled and reduced superpower arsenals, and established norms that limited the number of outliers from agreements governing nuclear, chemical and biological weapons. Diplomacy and arms control partnered with deterrence to help prevent mushroom clouds on battlefields. It was an awkward, uncomfortable partnership, to be sure, but the outcome was better than anyone had any right to expect in 1945, 1955, 1965, 1975, and 1985. And yet, diplomacy fails and treaties die.
While essential, deterrence, diplomacy and arms control are insufficient explanations for the absence of mushroom clouds in warfare since 1945. These factors don’t fully explain non-use during severe periods of tension. Heavy duty wonks know the story about a Soviet Foxtrot diesel submarine during the Cuban missile crisis that was being depth-charged to the surface to enforce President Kennedy’s quarantine of Cuba. No one suspected at that time that Foxtrots carried nuclear-armed torpedoes. No one knew at that time that the Captain, Second Captain, and Deputy Political Officer on board this particular submarine had made a private compact that, in extremis and if they were unable to reach authorized channels, they would make their own decision about using their aircraft carrier killing weapon. If all three voted in favor, they would do so. If the vote was not unanimous, they would hold their fire. They voted on October 27, 1962, the same day that a U-2 was shot down taking pictures over Cuba. Two of the three officers voted to fire their torpedo. The third, Vasili Alexandrovich Arkhipov, voted nyet.
Dedicated wonks also know about Stanislav Petrov, the commanding officer on the night shift on September 26, 1983, when he saw indications of what looked like the opening salvo of a U.S. surprise attack on his screen. Petrov was faced with the choice of notifying superiors during a period of heightened alert, superiors who would then notify key members of the Politburo, including General Secretary Yuri Andropov, who were convinced that the Reagan administration intended to fight and win a nuclear war. Petrov chose not to do so, assuming a technical malfunction. Petrov did not go by the book. He chose not to assume the worst.
What explains the actions of Arkhipov, Petrov and others like them when dealing with false alarms and excruciating, time-constrained decisions? Deterrence theory, diplomacy, and arms control don’t explain why these instances didn’t result in mushroom clouds. A sense of human connectedness does. Some close calls have been averted by human beings who have demonstrated allegiance to a common sense of humanity when staring into the Gates of Hell. So, let’s add human connectedness to our list of possible reasons for the absence of mushroom clouds in periods of intense tension.
And yet human connectedness, like deterrence, diplomacy and arms control, still do not explain why accidents and screw-ups haven’t resulted in mushroom clouds, especially early on when safety and security measures were rudimentary.
Serious wonks know about the Goldsboro accident on January 24, 1961 when a B-52 bomber carrying two hydrogen weapons, each with a yield of almost four megatons, suffered a catastrophic failure in midair near Goldsboro, North Carolina. One of the bomb’s parachutes deployed, resulting in minimal damage to the weapon. The second bomb’s parachute malfunctioned, and the weapon broke apart upon impact. Five of its six safety devices failed. Had the sixth failed, the area between Raleigh and the Outer Banks would not be most known for basketball and natural beauty.
My fellow wonks know about the Damascus incident. On September 18, 1980, a workman used the wrong tool and a nine-pound socket separated from its ratchet and clanged 80 feet down a Titan II missile silo, puncturing its first stage fuel tank. This liquid-fueled missile carried a nine-megaton warhead – the rough equivalent of 600 Hiroshima detonations. The resulting explosion sent the 740-ton silo cover 200 feet in the air and 600 feet to the northeast. The warhead was found 100 feet from the entry gate. Somehow, its safety features worked.
There were many, many serious accidents involving nuclear weapons. Not one of these accidents, malfunctions, and screw-ups resulted in a mushroom cloud. How can we explain this? Does every roll of the dice come up seven? Are we that lucky? If deterrence, diplomacy, arms control, a sense of human connectedness and plain dumb luck fail to explain the absence of mushroom clouds in warfare, during intense crises, extended periods of tension, and most of the time when we’re not paying much attention, what explanation is left?
During this holiday season, regardless of which deity you pray to, or whether you don’t pray at all, kindly give this a thought.