Beating Laboratories Into Plowshares

The nuclear age began in an atmosphere of fear and secrecy. Since 1945, heightened tensions between the superpowers (once the Soviet Union had acquired the bomb) and Cold War rhetoric have served as a rationale for the steady buildup of arms.

But another dynamic factor, equally important and even more insidious, has been the vested interests of the scientific and military establishment in the development of ever more sophisticated and destructive weapons.

Government officials have estimated that one-third to one-half of all scientists and engineers in the U.S. are currently engaged in military-related research and development (R & D). In 1970, the U.S. devoted a fifth of its engineers, a fourth of its physicists, a fifth of its mathematicians, and nearly half of its aeronautical engineers to military-related work.

The government's Fiscal Year (FY) 1982 budget proposes an increase of more than 21 per cent for military research, development, testing, and evaluation: a total of nearly $22 billion to be divided between the Department of Defense (DOD) and the Department of Energy (DOE). Some of the projects it will fund, like the M-X missile and new guidance systems, have immediate military application; others are aimed at developing more basic concepts and technology with long-term military payoffs. While most of us are still struggling to understand what is on the drawing boards for the 1980s, the advanced research we are now funding will help build the technological base for particle-beam and laser weapons for the year 2000 and beyond.

An example of the cost of scientific talent and expertise needed to develop a major new weapon system is the funding for the M-X missile. The FY 1981 R & D budget for the program is $1.4 billion—more than the combined R & D budgets of the Department of Labor, Education, Transportation, the Environmental Protection Agency, Federal Drug Administration, and Center for Disease Control.

At the core of the scientific-military establishment are the thousands of technicians and researchers who work in the nuclear weapons program. The majority of them are employed at one of three primary weapons labs operated by DOE: Los Alamos and Sandia in New Mexico and Lawrence Livermore in California. Others are spread throughout the facilities in the DOE warhead production complex and in the labs of corporate contractors.

Recently, DOE and DOD have been complaining about a "declining technology base," arguing the need to keep pace with both current weapons needs--like warheads for the M-X, cruise, and Trident missiles as well as new tactical weapons--and to continue work on basic weapons design. This includes such esoteric but potentially promising projects as laser-fusion research.

The push for increased R & D funding can partly be attributed to Cold War rhetoric about keeping up with the Russians. But one must also note the importance of bureaucratic self-interest and the need to keep scientists involved in a technologically "sweet" endeavor.

A secret study of the weapons program was conducted by DOE and DOD this past summer (unclassified portions were released under the Freedom of Information Act). It refers to the "pool of trained and experienced scientists and engineers [as] the most vital asset...A primary factor in RD & T [research, development, and training] resource planning is to ensure the stability of this work force by providing sufficient challenge and incentives." The study describes the effects of any further decline in basic weapons research: "Product improvement would be minimal...The motivation and eventually the competence of the people involved would decline because of lack of technical challenge."

In other words, the military must constantly work to keep the scientists motivated, offering them new vistas to explore, although the new particle-beam weapon or miniaturized warhead they discover could help to trigger a nuclear war.

The influence of the military is widespread throughout the U.S. scientific, industrial, and academic establishments. Under the demands of the "national security consensus" of the 1980s, that influence is growing.

On hundreds of campuses and at research institutions around the country, the military is makings comeback, recruiting scientists and re-establishing links that were in many cases broken during the Vietnam War. The Pentagon has long been seen as a major outlet for federal funding, and with money from other government sources being cutback, it is not surprising that many scientists are responding favorably to its wooing. For example, DOD provides a major portion of the funding for Massachusetts Institute of Technology's (MIT) research program, approximately $18 million annually. In addition, MIT maintains close ties with the Draper Instrumentation Lab, whose primary job is the design of missile guidance systems.

But a small and growing number of scientists are refusing to add their voices and energies to support the militarism of the 1980s.

In January, 1980, the American Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS), the largest scientific association in North America, with a membership of more than 130,000, held its annual meeting in San Francisco. At that event a one-day symposium on the arms race was held, organized by a small dissident group of MIT and Harvard scientists, and a resolution was passed calling for the following year's meeting to have "Directing Science Toward Peace" as one of its major themes. Clearly, something new and rather revolutionary was happening.

The January, 1981 AAAS annual conference took place in Toronto, Ontario, drawing more than 5,000 participants from the U.S. and Canada. Four days of symposiums and public lectures were devoted to examining the latest developments in the nuclear arms race and exploring ways to counter the drift toward war.

Speaking at a public forum on "Science, Religion, and the Arms Race," at the University of Toronto the day the conference opened, was George Ignatieff, a well-respected Canadian scientist and an emigre from the Soviet Union. For more than 30 years, Ignatieff served as Canada's representative to NATO and the Geneva disarmament negotiations and was an adviser to the Canadian Atomic Energy Commission. He is still haunted by the memory of 20 million crosses spread across the Soviet countryside, the majority of them the graves of civilians killed in World War II. In a passionate voice, Ignatieff urged a concerted effort to "prevent public acceptance of the inevitability of nuclear war. That is our greatest duty."

Later during the AAAS conference, Richard Garwin, a developer of the hydrogen bomb and an expert on space and laser weapons, was asked about the chances of a nuclear war occurring before the year 2000. "A global exchange--reasonably likely," he replied. "The use of a few nuclear weapons I would predict as highly probable."

John Cutro, a young physicist from Albany, New York, came to the AAAS conference to talk with his colleagues about the challenges and difficulties of withdrawing their support from the arms race. Cutro worked from 1975 to 1978 doing research for a private company at Wright-Patterson Air Force base.

At first, Cutro had no idea that his research had anything to do with weapons. "You make excuses and as long as there's no direct evidence linking the subcomponent work you're doing with its military use, there's not much motivation to confront yourself," he said. He believes this is also a function of the secrecy system.

Ultimately Cutro discovered that he was helping to develop the power supply for laser weapons. He quit his job, and decided to "do what I could so the weapons I and other physicists developed would never be used to kill people." He is now involved with the Knolls (Trident) Labs Conversion Project, a disarmament effort in Albany, New York.

Other scientists are also becoming active in the disarmament movement, trying to stimulate debate on the implications, costs, and tradeoffs of the arms race and on the role of science and technology.

The Union of Concerned Scientists, known primarily for its work against nuclear power, is heavily involved in the effort to stop the M-X.

At the AAAS conference, William Epstein, a consultant to the U.N. and Canada and an expert on proliferation, urged a complete ban on nuclear testing "as the single most important measure to halt the arms race." Last year, the AAAS went on record in support of a comprehensive test ban (CTB)--a halt to all underground and atmospheric explosions.

This year prominent scientists, including Herbert Scoville, former director of engineering and research for the CIA, linked together the calls for a freeze and a test ban. The opposition of scientists within the weapons establishment to a CTB continues to be the most significant obstacle to its implementation.

The most hopeful sign of all is the involvement of the AAAS and its members in the arms race debate. In Toronto a disarmament caucus was formed, and the organization voted to continue its Working Group on Arms Control, calling for "reciprocal initiatives" to reverse the arms race. An earlier AAAS resolution specifically opposed "the development by any country of new weapons systems...[that] pose a first-strike threat."

But this opposition must broaden and deepen to uncover the roots of the technological trap in which we are caught. Members of the scientific community must come to terms with the power and influence they have in shaping public opinion and official policy, including their roles in initiating and participating in military research programs.

Mere statements about decisions made by others cannot excuse any of us from responsibility for our actions. The choice before American scientists--to cooperate or to withdraw their support of the arms race--is not an easy one. But postponing moral and ethical accountability will not buy time, it will only propel us closer to extinction.

Kenneth Boulding, the outgoing president of the AAAS, has stated: "The heritage of science is a heritage of hope." Lamenting the large proportion of scientists using their energies and talents to develop military technologies, he observed that the scientific community "needs a renewed sense of its mission and its ethic." As our nation prepares for nuclear war, that mission must include the urgent task of turning science toward peace.

Pam Solo, S. L., and Mike Jendrzejczyk were, respectively, the American Friends Service Committee and Fellowship of Reconciliation program directors of the Rocky Flats/Nuclear Weapons Facilities Project when this article appeared.

This appears in the May 1981 issue of Sojourners