Banning the Bomb

“Bertie in particular sustained simultaneously a pair of opinions ludicrously incompatible,” observed John Maynard Keynes of Bertrand Russell. “He held that in fact human affairs were carried on after a most irrational fashion, but that the remedy was quite simple and easy since all we had to do was carry them on rationally. A discussion of practical affairs on these lines was really very boring.”

This quote came to mind when reading Jonathan Schell’s latest attempt to solve the problem of nuclear weapons. Russell was the most effective of the early campaigners for nuclear disarmament, capable of bringing home in powerful language the awfulness and futility of a nuclear war. But he was never quite so persuasive when explaining why only disarmament could prevent such a catastrophe and how this might be achieved. So it is with Schell. His 1982 book, “Fate of the Earth,” is a moving essay on the likely effect of a nuclear war on humankind, gaining impact by contrasting the casual treatment of these matters by members of the Reagan administration. He called for a political revolution that would result in the creation of a world government as the best solution, a political leap Russell was also inclined to make. Within a few years, though, Schell had come to appreciate that matters are not so simple. In “Abolition,” published in 1984, he devised a complex scheme with governments finding better ways to resolve their disputes while sustaining some capacity to respond to a nuclear miscreant.

Now the basic political constraint on complete disarmament appears to have been lifted along with the Iron Curtain. This has provided the “gift of time” of his new book’s title. How is it, Schell wonders, that the Cold War has ended but the nuclear age has not? As Schell finds the case for complete nuclear disarmament now unanswerable, he argues that its implementation is within reach, given sufficient political will (that crucial ingredient that the best causes always seem to lack).

So unanswerable is the abolitionist case to Schell that he barely bothers to make it. “Is it necessary, fifty-three years after Hiroshima, to rehearse the basic facts?” he asks rhetorically, offering a paragraph of headline horrors before ruminating on why we do not seem able to get rid of these awful weapons. Yet the post-Cold War generation, whose members were being born or toddling as “Fate of the Earth” was published, have no reason to be well up on these facts. This is not a young persons’ crusade, as it was in the 1950s. Indeed it appears in this book, as often as not, to be an old man’s dream.

In addition, the facts themselves have changed. The effects of nuclear explosions on physical structures and living organisms remain the same, but the great upheavals of the last decade require a reappraisal of the political circumstances in which they might be unleashed. The risk of all-out nuclear exchanges, perhaps culminating in some global blackout, has receded. The major powers no longer integrate nuclear weapons into their general-purpose forces; inventories have been cut, and few new weapons are being developed. South Africa and some Latin American countries have decided against nuclear strategies altogether. At the same time, there are new risks. In tense parts of the world, nuclear strategies retain some attraction, as India and Pakistan have demonstrated. Russia has not only become more dependent upon nuclear deterrence because of the chaotic state of its conventional armed forces; there are also worries that it finds it difficult to cope with its nuclear responsibilities, such as essential maintenance and control procedures.

By not taking stock of this new situation, Schell is left with a poor diagnosis, leading him to see any hurdles in the way of abolition in largely technical terms once the familiar opponents have been overcome: weary cynicism, old thinking and vested interests.

The bulk of Schell’s book is a record of conversations with generally like-minded people who have been engaged in nuclear weapons issues in the past--generals, scientists, academics, politicians and campaigners. They are largely American with some Europeans, though no French, and a few Russians. None is from the Third World. There are references to the views of those enthusiastic about, rather than just resigned to, nuclear deterrence, but they are not heard directly. The cast of characters is familiar, including a number of members of the Canberra Commission, sponsored by the Australian government, whose 1996 report constitutes the most authoritative pro-abolitionist statement. The most space is given to Gen. Lee Butler, who, until he retired in 1992 as chief of the U.S. Strategic Air Command, was the world’s leading nuclear warrior and in consequence is the world’s most significant antinuclear convert. None, with the exception of the Russian analyst Alexi Arbatov, has a good word to say for deterrence, though some accept that it might have played some useful but modest role in the past.

This does not make for a satisfactory read. The discussion is rather circular, with more assertion than evidence. Insights are left hanging without proper exploration. Despite the importance of the topic, there are few moments of real passion. Schell’s cross-examinations are mild and respectful. When he plays devil’s advocate, it is largely to examine the case for “virtual nuclear arsenals,” explosive devices that cannot be launched except with a great degree of noisy and prolonged preparation. They would be so difficult to use that they provide safeguards against a sudden “breakout” from a nonnuclear regime, with less danger of causing havoc themselves.

The conversations turn largely on the practicalities of abolition and the almost cliched challenges to such schemes. Nuclear weapons still appear as the only deterrent to another country’s use of nuclear, chemical or biological weapons. The United States and its allies have a whole range of options for almost any contingency, based on conventional superiority, but the abolitionists need to convince the beleaguered and chronically insecure. Schell received a rather lukewarm response to his enthusiasm in Moscow. His best explanation is that an opportunity for disarmament may have been missed during the later Gorbachev period. This opinion sits uneasily with his contention that it is only now that we have a unique opportunity. Then come the practical challenges: In the world of the nonnuclear, the just-nuclear would be king; much could be gained by cheating, made possible by the accessibility of key components, materials and technology.

Rolf Ekeus, who led the U.N. effort to disarm Iraq, describes a credible verification regime with the requisite transparency, but Iraq could only be dealt with in this way in extraordinary circumstances, and even now there is a sense that the United Nations has missed something.

Moreover, knowing that rules are not being followed and enforcing these rules are two different issues. It is not even clear what constitutes zero when it comes to nuclear weapons, a topic that sparks some of the more interesting conversations in “The Gift of Time.” Out of this, a useful distinction emerges between technical zero (when the weapons are truly dismantled and cannot be covertly reconstructed) and political zero (when nuclear use has been completely disavowed). It is hard to see how either zero could be guaranteed as a permanent condition, but it is possible to chart movements in the right direction.

The most committed abolitionists are wary about concepts of virtual nuclear arsenal. Scientists such as Frank von Hippel have shown great technical ingenuity in this area, but for others, such as the German academic Harald Muller, such concepts still legitimize the idea that nuclear weapons might have a purpose. Moreover, as the nuclear capacity of nuclear-weapons states is reduced to an embryonic form, other states whose capabilities have not progressed beyond this stage suddenly acquire an equivalent status.

Schell might have done better to think harder about the problems of political zero, which he constructs as an issue for international law. It is more about strengthening the “norm of nonuse,” constantly demonstrating the irrelevance of nuclear weapons to most conflicts and working hard on resolving those cases in which a lingering relevance has been identified. This does not offer a definitive solution, a durable blueprint for a nonnuclear world, but such a quest may be a distraction. Schell appears to be trying to negotiate some consensus position, on behalf of humanity, to which governments might just be persuaded to sign up. As always with these efforts, large problems--the resources and time required for safe decommissioning, the possible role of ballistic missile defenses as a form of reassurance, worries about biological weapons, the current mood in Russia, the real insecurities in South Asia and the Middle East--are handled by well-turned phrases or sidestepped altogether. Immediate problems--the maintenance and control of the Russian arsenal and the developing Indo-Pakistani stand-off--seem trivial in comparison with the grand goal of nuclear abolition, yet they require urgent attention.

In the sort of claim that crusaders often make, Schell insists on a stark choice: “on the one hand, condemnation of nuclear weapons and their abolition and, on the other, their full normalization and universalization”--either nuclear abolition or nuclear proliferation. Given the impediments to his own preference, posing such an absolute choice risks a quite irresponsible outcome.