[D66] Why is America getting a new $100 billion nuclear weapon?
R.O.
jugg at ziggo.nl
Tue Feb 9 05:44:35 CET 2021
(lang)
Why is America getting a new $100 billion nuclear weapon?
*By* *Elisabeth Eaves <https://thebulletin.org/biography/elisabeth-eaves>
*February 8, 2021
America is building a new weapon of mass destruction, a nuclear missile
the length of a bowling lane. It will be able to travel some 6,000 miles
<https://fas.org/nuke/guide/usa/icbm/lgm-30_3.htm>, carrying a warhead
more than 20 times more powerful than the atomic bomb dropped on
Hiroshima. It will be able to kill hundreds of thousands of people in a
single shot.
The US Air Force plans to order more than 600 of them.
On September 8, the Air Force gave the defense company Northrop Grumman
an initial contract of $13.3 billion to begin engineering and
manufacturing the missile, but that will be just a fraction of the total
bill. Based on a Pentagon report cited by the Arms Control Association
Association
<https://www.armscontrol.org/factsheets/USNuclearModernization#ICBM> and
Bloomberg News, the government will spend roughly $100 billion to build
the weapon, which will be ready to use around 2029.
To put that price tag in perspective, $100 billion could pay 1.24
million elementary school teacher salaries for a year, provide 2.84
million four-year university scholarships, or cover 3.3 million hospital
stays for covid-19 patients. It’s enough to build a massive mechanical
wall to protect New York City
<https://www.nytimes.com/2020/01/17/nyregion/sea-wall-nyc.html> from sea
level
rise.<https://thebulletin.org/2021/02/why-is-america-getting-a-new-100-billion-nuclear-weapon/#_ftn4> It’s
enough to get to Mars
<https://www.express.co.uk/news/science/1165136/SpaceX-news-Elon-Musk-cost-building-civilisation-on-Mars>.
One day soon, the Air Force will christen this new war machine with its
“popular” name, likely some word that projects goodness and strength, in
keeping with past nuclear missiles like the Atlas, Titan, and
Peacekeeper. For now, though, the missile goes by the inglorious acronym
GBSD, for “ground-based strategic deterrent.” The GBSD is designed to
replace the existing fleet of Minuteman III missiles; both are
intercontinental ballistic missiles, or ICBMs. Like its predecessors,
the GBSD fleet will be lodged in underground silos, widely scattered in
three groups known as “wings” across five states. The official purpose
of American ICBMs goes beyond responding to nuclear assault. They are
also intended to deter such attacks, and serve as targets in case there
is
one.<https://thebulletin.org/2021/02/why-is-america-getting-a-new-100-billion-nuclear-weapon/#_ftnref1>
Defense industry concepts for the proposed GBSD missile (left to right:
Lockheed Martin, Boeing, Northrop Grumman). In September 2020, after
Boeing had dropped its bid, the US Air Force awarded Northrop Grumman
the initial $13.3 billion contract.
gbsd-illustrations-triptych
Under the theory of deterrence, America’s nuclear arsenal
<https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/00963402.2019.1701286>—currently
made up of 3,800 warheads
<https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/00963402.2019.1701286>—sends
a message to other nuclear-armed countries. It relays to the enemy that
US retaliation would be so awful, it had better not attack in the first
place. Many consider American deterrence a success, pointing to the fact
that no country has ever attacked the United States with nuclear
weapons. This argument relies on the same faulty logic Ernie used when
he told Bert he had a banana in his ear to keep the alligators away: The
absence of alligators doesn’t prove the banana worked. Likewise, the
absence of a nuclear attack on the United States doesn’t prove that
3,800 warheads are essential to deterrence. And for practical purposes,
after the first few, they quickly grow redundant. “Once you've dropped a
couple of nuclear bombs on a city, if you drop a couple more, all you do
is make the rubble shake,” said Air Force Maj. Gen. (Ret.) Robert
Latiff, a /Bulletin /Science and Security Board member who, early in his
career, commanded a unit of short-range nuclear weapons in West Germany.
Deterrence is the main argument for having a nuclear arsenal at all. But
America’s land-based missiles have another strategic purpose all their
own. Housed in permanent silos spread across America’s high plains, they
are intended to /draw fire/ to the region in the event of a nuclear war,
forcing Russia to use up a lot of atomic ammunition on a sparsely
populated area. If that happened, and all three wings were destroyed,
the attack would still kill more than 10 million people and turn the
area into a charred wasteland, unfarmable and uninhabitable for
centuries to come.
The GBSD’s detractors include long-time peace activists, as you’d
expect. But many of the missile’s critics are former military leaders,
and their criticism has to do with those immovable silos. Relative to
nuclear missiles on submarines, which can slink around undetected, and
nuclear bombs on airplanes—the two other legs of the nuclear triad, in
defense jargon—America’s land-based nuclear missiles are easy marks.
Because they are so exposed, they pose another risk: To avoid being
destroyed and rendered useless—their silos provide no real protection
against a direct Russian nuclear strike—they would be “launched on
warning,” that is, as soon as the Pentagon got wind of an incoming
nuclear attack. But the computer systems that warn of such incoming fire
may be vulnerable to hacking and false alarms. During the Cold War,
military computer glitches in both the United States and Russia caused
numerous close calls
<https://www.armscontrol.org/act/2019-12/focus/nuclear-false-warnings-risk-catastrophe>,
and since then, cyberthreats have become an increasing concern. An
investigation ordered by the Obama administration in 2010 found that the
Minutemen missiles were vulnerable to a potentially crippling
cyberattack
<https://www.nytimes.com/2017/03/14/opinion/why-our-nuclear-weapons-can-be-hacked.html>.
Because an error could have disastrous consequences, James Mattis, the
former Marine Corps general who would go on to become the 26^th US
secretary of defense, testified
<https://www.armed-services.senate.gov/imo/media/doc/Mattis_01-27-15.pdf>
to the Senate Armed Services Committee in 2015 that getting rid of
America’s land-based nuclear missiles “would reduce the false alarm
danger.” Whereas a bomber can be turned around even on approach to its
target, a nuclear missile launched by mistake can’t be recalled.
Residents of Hawaii received notifications like this on January 13,
2018, a false alarm that went uncorrected for thirty-eight minutes.
$100 billion to replace machines that would, if ever used, kill
civilians on a mass scale and possibly end human civilization is just
another forgotten subscription on auto-renew.
Future US Secretary of Defense James Mattis testified on the nuclear
triad at a 2015 Senate Armed Services Committee hearing. (C-SPAN
<https://www.c-span.org/video/?323991-1/hearing-national-security-threats>)
William J. Perry, secretary of defense during the Clinton administration
(and the chair of the /Bulletin/’s Board of Sponsors), argued in 2016
that “[w]e simply do not need to rebuild all of the weapons we had
during the Cold War” and singled out the GBSD as unnecessary. Replacing
America’s land-based nuclear missiles, he wrote
<https://www.ploughshares.org/issues-analysis/article/phase-out-americas-icbms>,
“will crowd out the funding needed to sustain the competitive edge of
our conventional forces, and to build the capabilities needed to deal
with terrorism and cyber attacks.”^ Russia has about 4,300 nuclear
warheads
<https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/full/10.1080/00963402.2020.1728985>,
the only arsenal on par with America’s, and is also trading up for new
weapons. Yet as Perry pointed out, “If Russia decides to build more than
it needs, it is their economy that will be destroyed, just as it was
during the Cold War.” China—a bigger long-term threat to the United
States than Russia, in the eyes of many national security analyses—seems
to understand that excessive spending on nuclear weapons would be
self-sabotage. Even if, as the Pentagon expects, Beijing doubles the
number of nuclear warheads in its arsenal—now estimated at less than
300—it will still have far fewer than either the United States or Russia.
For many and perhaps most Americans, nuclear weapons are out of sight
and mind. That $100 billion to replace machines that would, if ever
used, kill civilians on a mass scale and possibly end human civilization
is just another forgotten subscription on auto-renew. But those who do
think about the GBSD mostly don’t want it. In a survey
<https://fas.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Public-Perspectives-ICBM.pdf>
of registered voters conducted in October 2020 by the Federation of
American Scientists, 60 percent said they would prefer other
alternatives to the new missile, ranging from refurbishing the Minutemen
to scrapping nuclear weapons altogether. Those results echo a 2019 voter
survey <http://www.commongroundagenda.org/nuclear-weapons/>, conducted
by the Program for Public Consultation at the University of Maryland,
that asked if the government should phase out its fleet of land-based
nuclear missiles. Sixty-one percent of respondents—53 percent of
Republicans and 69 percent of Democrats—said yes
<http://www.commongroundagenda.org/nuclear-weapons/>.
Which all leads to one question: Given the expense, doubtful strategic
purpose, and lack of popularity, why is Washington spending so much to
replace the Minuteman III?
The answers stretch from the Utah desert to Montana wheat fields to the
halls of Congress. They span presidential administrations and political
parties. They come from airmen and farmers and senators and CEOs.
The reasons for the GBSD are historical, political, and to a significant
extent economic. In a country where safety net programs are limited and
health insurance is a patchwork, and where unemployment remains at
nearly double the pre-pandemic rate, many people in the states where the
new missile will be built and based see it as a lifeline. Their elected
officials take campaign donations from defense companies, to be sure,
but are also trying to deliver jobs in a political environment that has
been hostile to government spending on anything but defense. Defense /is
/the safety net where other options are few.
A lot of people, even some of those whose livelihoods depend on them,
would like to see the number of nuclear weapons gradually reduced until
they’re gone. The United States stands no chance of making them
disappear, though, until more people understand why they happen—and how
little some nuclear weapons programs have to do with national defense.
Launch Control Facility A-1 in Southeast Wyoming. Every launch control
facility is linked to 10 separate Minuteman III missile silos.
(Elisabeth Eaves)
Deeply embedded
Go looking for a nuclear missile in America’s heartland, and the first
thing you’ll see is the porta-potty for maintenance workers. Made of
blue or gray plastic, it stands out like a beacon against the natural
colors of the surrounding landscape, while the chain link fence and
slender antennae are harder to spot at a distance, and the missile
itself is underground.
Closer up, you’ll see that the fence, which surrounds an area smaller
than a city block, is topped with three strands of barbed wire. Outside
the fence, there is a pole mounted with lights, and sometimes an
additional pole with cameras. Inside the fence, where the ground may be
dirt or gravel, a few poles hold disc-shaped security sensors. A sign on
the locked gate says “Use of deadly force authorized,” but there is no
sign to indicate the site’s ownership or purpose, no Air Force seal or
US flag. When the missile is not being repaired, maintained, or moved,
which is most of the time, there is no one present, and rustling grass
is often the only sound.
Go looking for a nuclear missile in America's heartland, and the first
thing you'll see is the porta-potty for maintenance workers.
porta-potty
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/porta-potty.png>
Missile silo C-2 in central Montana. (Elisabeth Eaves)
The central structure within the enclosure is a hexagonal lid made of
reinforced concrete and steel that sits almost flush with the ground,
covering the missile below. The best vantage point for viewing the lid,
which sits on tracks, is from the south side of the fence. In the event
of a launch, gas charges will shoot the lid southward along the tracks
in a matter of seconds, blasting it into the field beyond, to the
detriment of any livestock in the way.
There are 450 of these subterranean silos. Four hundred of them hold
on-alert nuclear missiles, ready to take off within minutes of a
presidential order and hit a target—Moscow or Beijing, Vladivostok or
Pyongyang—in 30 minutes or less. The remaining 50 sit empty, following
weapon reductions under the New Strategic Arms Control Treaty (New
START), signed in 2010 between the United States and Russia.
Silos are located several miles from one another. For every 10, there is
one staffed launch control facility, to which the silos are connected by
steel-encased cables as thick as baguettes. The cables are supposed to
be about three feet underground, though some have risen to the surface
over the years. “If you’re farming out there, you know where they are,”
said Joe Briggs, a commissioner of Cascade County, Montana.
The launch control facilities are easier to spot than the missile silos.
Each one includes an above-ground building that looks like an elongated
vinyl-sided ranch house, painted an aggressively bland shade of beige
and surrounded by a chain link fence. Inside the house are bedrooms, a
kitchen, a dining area, and a living room, and outside there may be a
basketball hoop. The around-the-clock team on site includes a facility
manager, security guards, and a chef.
The officers trained to launch nuclear weapons, known as missileers,
toil underground in teams of two. From a secure room inside the house,
they ride an elevator down several stories and pass through an eight-ton
blast door to reach their post, a submarine-like capsule suspended
within an outer shell. Their shifts last 24 hours, although in times of
crisis, including during the covid-19 pandemic, shifts can be extended
to 36 hours or longer. The capsule is crammed with control consoles and
paneled in mid-century metal, like the future imagined in 1963. There is
one bunk for lying down, and a missileer may study or rest while his or
her counterpart is on watch, but neither of them leaves the capsule
during the shift. Inside it stinks of 60 years of sweat and gear. “It's
gross. The air is stale, smells of brine and all kinds of old, ancient
industrial chemicals that otherwise have been phased out,” said Damon
Bosetti, who served as a missileer in Montana from 2006 to 2010. “And
it's loud because of all the machinery turning.” The noise comes from a
motor-generator that calibrates the power coming into the capsule and
the constant whoosh of air conditioning required to keep the electronics
cool.
minuteman-silo-aerial
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/minuteman-silo-aerial.png>
Aerial view of a Minuteman silo in Wyoming. The hexagonal door at center
weighs 110 tons, designed to protect against nuclear attacks and debris.
There is little else to indicate a multiple megaton nuclear warhead is
ready to launch beneath the dirt. (National Park Service)
lcc-schmatic
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/lcc-schmatic.png>
ICBM launch control facilities feature an above-ground support building
with living quarters. Below ground, the Launch Control Center (LCC)
contains the communications and launch systems. (Clayton B. Fraser /
National Park Service)
Below, left: Alpha-1 in Montana was the first Minuteman LCC, activated
in the early 1960s. Each LCC has a two-person crew of missileers, shown
here also at Alpha-1. Center right: The two-key launch system is
well-known from Hollywood. Right: More than 2,400 miles of pressurized
cable connect the facilities in Montana's missile field alone.
Launch_Control_Facility_after_construction_at_Malmstrom_AFB,_Montana
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Launch_Control_Facility_after_construction_at_Malmstrom_AFB_Montana-1.jpg>
US Air Force
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/malmstrom-lcc.png>
Josh Aycock / US Air Force
lcc-key-panel
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/lcc-key-panel.jpg>
Elisabeth Eaves
Pasted Graphic 28
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Pasted-Graphic-28.jpg>
Chris Willis / US Air Force
The three missile wings are headquartered, respectively, at Malmstrom
Air Force Base in Great Falls, Montana; Minot Air Force Base, just north
of Minot, North Dakota; and F.E. Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne,
Wyoming. The Warren missile complex extends into Nebraska and Colorado.
The Montana missile complex, which is the most spread out, covers 13,800
square miles, more territory than Maryland. There are missile silos in
the Helena-Lewis and Clark National Forest and the Pawnee National
Grassland. There are 12, plus a launch control facility, on the Fort
Berthold Indian Reservation, home of the Mandan, Hidatsa, and Arikara
nations. There are missile silos next to homes, farms, and schools.
There are currently three active ICBM missile wings in the United
states, spread across five states. Each dot represents a missile site.
Those in darker red are active silos; pink ones are decommissioned.
(Nukewatch <https://nukewatch.org/>)
nuclear-heartland-map
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/nuclear-heartland-map.png>
A sense of how spread out the missile fields are is important to
understanding how embedded they are in local economies
<https://thebulletin.org/2020/10/nuclear-disarmers-cant-forget-the-communities-that-rely-on-military-spending/>.
Shane Etzwiler is president of the Great Falls Chamber of Commerce, and
I met with him and County Commissioner Briggs in July at the chamber,
located on a pandemic-quieted downtown street. Etzwiler lives 35 miles
east of Great Falls in Fairfield, a community of some 700 people with
spectacular views of the Rocky Mountain Front. Airmen bound for the
launch control facility known as Hotel 1 pass through Fairfield.
“They’re stopping in communities and they're buying the drinks, buying
the to-go because they're going to be in the hole,” Etzwiler said. In
Fairfield, “that restaurant will have 24 or 36 airmen stop in, getting
to-go orders or coming out of the field ready for a different meal. The
impact is tremendous in our area.”
In the early teens, the Pentagon made plans to remove 50 nuclear
missiles to comply with New START. Legislators from the “missile caucus”
states swung into action, and in January 2014, Republican North Dakota
Senator John Hoeven attached an amendment
<https://www.hoeven.senate.gov/news/news-releases/omnibus-appropriations-bill-includes-north-dakota-priorities-for-global-hawk-missile-silos>
to a major spending bill that denied the Defense Department the funds it
needed to begin making cuts. When, a month later, members of the missile
caucus got wind that the Defense Department was going ahead with an
environmental assessment on eliminating missile silos, they drafted
outraged bipartisan letters to the defense secretary. One, signed by
senators from Montana and North Dakota, read
<https://www.nti.org/gsn/article/lawmakers-icbm-states-demand-assurances-pentagon-not-studying-closing-silos/>:
"We write to make very clear our strenuous opposition to any attempt by
the Department of Defense to circumvent existing law to proceed with an
Environmental Impact Study or an Environmental Assessment on the
elimination of Minuteman 3 silos.” The Pentagon put the assessment on
hold and came up with a scheme to remove the 50 missiles from silos
across all three missile wings, rather than taking out a whole squadron
from a single Air Force base. The Pentagon also said it would keep the
empty silos “warm,” meaning maintained and ready to use. Lawmakers from
the missile caucus applauded; Democratic Sen. Jon Tester of Montana
called it
<https://www.latimes.com/nation/la-xpm-2014-apr-08-la-na-pentagon-nuclear-20140409-story.html>
“a big win for our nation’s security and for Malmstrom Air Force Base
and north-central Montana.”
“The town treated the base almost like a cargo cult object, in that it
fell from the sky and brought great prosperity.”
montana-malmstrom-map
He was right on at least one point: Maintaining the silos would bring
some medium-term financial gain to north-central Montana. The
military—Malmstrom Air Force Base and the Montana Air National
Guard—accounts for a third of the regional economy, with another third
coming from agriculture and a third from everything else. Malmstrom
alone is one of the region’s largest employers. The base had an economic
impact of $372 million in 2019, including direct and indirect jobs as
well as expenditures on construction and other services. It’s
intertwined with city life in other ways, too. “Malmstrom brings a
diversification into our community that we wouldn't have otherwise,”
said Briggs. “If you look around Great Falls, we've got amenities that
cities twice our size don't have. A symphony.”
Kristen Inbody, a writer who works for Benefis Health System in Great
Falls, credited Malmstrom as a tool of desegregation, and for making
Great Falls the most racially diverse city in Montana. Inbody grew up in
Choteau, a town surrounded to the east, south, and west by 20 missile
silos. “In real life, in everyday life, it’s good roads and a better
economy than there would be otherwise,” she said. She is conscious of
the devastating effect a nuclear strike on her region would have.
“People don’t think it’s going to happen,” she said. “The chatter is way
more often about Yellowstone.” She referred to the supervolcano under
Yellowstone National Park, 300 miles away, which last erupted 70,000
years ago.
“The town treated the base almost like a cargo cult object, in that it
fell from the sky and brought great prosperity,” said former missileer
Bosetti. Case in point: Malmstrom decommissioned its runway in 1997
because no fixed-wing aircraft used the base anymore, and the runway was
expensive to maintain. Ever since, local business and political leaders
have tried to bring a mission to Malmstrom that would reopen the
runway—and rejected other, potentially lucrative investments near the
base, including a housing development, that might interfere with
theoretical future runway use. During his time in Great Falls, Bosetti
said, a major shipping company wanted to open a sorting center near the
runway. “That would have been amazing. Look at the growth of shipping
and delivery,” he said. But “the town got really mad and said, ‘No, no,
no, the planes are coming back. We can't build this thing because it'll
stop the tanker wing from relocating here eventually in the future.’ It
never did. It never will.” As recently as 2019, Montana Republican Rep.
Greg Gianforte attached language to a defense bill directing the Air
Force to consider improvements to mothballed facilities like the
Malmstrom airstrip. “With some work, the base’s runway can once again
host flying missions,” Gianforte said
<https://www.greatfallstribune.com/story/news/2019/07/12/montanas-gianforte-calls-air-force-head-consider-fixes-malmstrom/1713462001/>
in a speech.
The air strip may be a lost cause, but for today’s city boosters,
nuclear weapons hold economic promise. Greater Great Falls can expect to
host a third of the 600-plus GBSD missiles the Air Force is having built.
The Air Force plans to begin GBSD-related construction around Cheyenne
in 2023, Great Falls in 2026, and Minot in 2029. Launch control
facilities will be upgraded. The special vehicles that move the
missiles, known as transporter erector loaders, might clock in at a
different size or weight than the current ones, requiring updates to
county roads. “We're talking infrastructure and roads and bridges and
things like that,” Etzwiler said. “They need project managers, they need
warehousing, they need skilled trade workers and electronics, telecom,
you name it.”
It all means more jobs. “We're excited,” he said.
Previous models of intercontinental ballistic missiles are displayed at
the National Museum of the United States Air Force near Dayton, Ohio.
The Minuteman III (visible at the center right of this photo, with first
and third stages painted green) is the only American ICBM deployed
today. (USAF Museum)
The invention of the nuclear sponge
A nuclear bomb without a delivery device is a bullet without a gun. The
Americans used airplanes to drop the first atomic weapons in 1945, but
soon both Washington and Moscow sought other means of delivery,
something that could launch the explosive all the way from home turf to
foreign soil. Nazi Germany’s V2 rocket served as inspiration. After
World War II, the Soviet Union took possession of the V2 test range and
factory, but the United States got its hands on the rocket’s inventor,
Wernher von Braun, and brought him to America. US nuclear missiles
followed, with the first, the Atlas, entering service in 1958. In
addition to the Titan and Peacekeeper, there were the Jupiter and Snark,
the last so-named after the elusive prey in the Lewis Carroll poem “The
Hunting of the Snark.”
In the words of a publication from Los Alamos National Laboratory
<https://www.lanl.gov/discover/publications/national-security-science/2016-december/_assets/docs/NSS-dec2016_w78-lives-on.pdf>,
a warhead must be able to “survive and function while traveling through
multiple severe environments: the extreme violence of launching;
accelerating within seconds to Mach 23 (about 18,000 miles per hour);
entering the frigid vacuum of space; then reentering the atmosphere at
speeds that threaten to break up or burn up the reentry vehicle and its
warhead.” The parts of a nuclear missile include several rocket motors,
which fall away in stages during flight, and a re-entry vehicle, which
houses the warhead and carries it all the way to its destination.
The Minuteman III, first deployed 50 years ago, is today America’s only
land-based ICBM. Proponents of the GBSD walk a tricky line, trying to
convey an urgent need to replace the Minuteman III while trying not to
say it is falling apart, which would presumably undermine its deterrent
effect. So they refer to the Minuteman system as “aging” and say that
while modernization must absolutely happen right now, with ongoing
maintenance the current missiles will be completely fine until 2029.
How “aged” is the system? The silos were built at the same time as the
underground launch control centers. Bosetti described an episode in one
of the launch control capsules he frequented in the late aughts, a
months-long period with failed sewage pumps. “There was a lake filled
with sewage at the bottom of the outer shell, and a 2-foot diameter,
3-foot tall cardboard tube with a plastic bag liner we used as a
toilet,” he said. “We'd periodically lug it out to the elevator, where
the sergeant upstairs would try to empty it into the sewage lagoon.
After a few hours, you'd stop smelling the lake, but that was just a
symptom of hydrogen sulfide poisoning. Once they fixed the sewage
problems, there was no remediation or cleaning of the capsule shell.”
“Even if we're restricting it to pure utilitarian calculations of
military usefulness,” Bosetti said, “those capsules and their silos are
decades past their design life.”
Proponents of the GBSD walk a tricky line, trying to convey an urgent
need to replace the Minuteman III while trying not to say it is falling
apart.
Pasted Graphic 17
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Pasted-Graphic-17.jpg>
Sewage lagoons like this are found at each launch control facility. (Jim
Ruddy / National Park Service)
Predictably, as the US Air Force sought better and better nuclear
missiles—cheaper and less accident-prone, with ever-improving range,
accuracy, and destructive capability—the Soviet Union did the same. In a
1990 study published by the Air Force, the authors wrote
<https://books.google.com/books?id=KdEbswm6XPYC&pg=PA43&lpg=PA43&dq>
that “improvements in Soviet ICBM forces and missile accuracy raised
serious concerns over the ability of silo-based ICBMs to survive an
attack.” In July 1976, Congress refused to appropriate funds for the
Peacekeeper, convinced that the silo-based system proposed for it would
make it vulnerable. The defense establishment explored a variety of
alternatives to fixed silos, including missiles that could be moved
around on train tracks. In 1979, President Jimmy Carter approved a
system of “multiple protective shelters,” in which Peacekeeper missiles
would be mobile. President Ronald Reagan tried to reverse that decision
and base the missile in fixed silos, but Congress again rejected such a
plan in 1982.
Political battles over the vulnerability of fixed silos continued
through the 1980s. Those eager to get new missiles deployed one way or
another, like Reagan, eventually solved the conundrum with an
intellectual contortion. Defense thinkers began to argue that the
susceptible nature of America’s silo-based nuclear missiles was not a
flaw but a feature. They redefined the silos as intentionally
vulnerable, designed to make Moscow use up weapons. This rationale
continues today. “The ICBM force provides a cost-imposing strategy on an
adversary,” Mattis explained
<https://www.armscontrol.org/policy-white-papers/2018-03/future-icbm-force-should-least-valuable-leg-triad-replaced>
to a Senate committee in 2017. Because they are meant to draw nuclear
attacks like a sponge draws water, military analysts have long called
America’s land-based missiles the “nuclear sponge.”
minot-icbm-farm-silos
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/minot-icbm-farm-silos.jpg>
An ICBM launch site located among fields and farms in the countryside
outside Minot, North Dakota. (Charlie Riedel / AP)
Unfinished work
Zane Zell’s grandparents and parents farmed wheat on flat land outside
of Shelby, Montana. In the 1960s, when Zell was in high school, the
government seized a few acres of the family farm. “The military comes in
and says, ‘We're going to build a missile here, so either sell us your
land or we condemn it and take it,’” he said in July, sitting in a blue
plaid shirt, sunglasses, and a cloth mask in front of his brick house in
Shelby. The military fenced off the area and it became Minuteman missile
silo Papa One. “A lot of people in this area were in poverty. Either
they had no knowledge of the missiles, or didn't care, or they were
supportive of them.”
As a student at the University of Denver, Zell became involved in the
anti-war movement. With his wife and children, he eventually returned to
run the farm. He still resented the missile on his land and would
perform small acts of rebellion, deliberately driving over a surveying
stake or jostling the chain-link fence with his tractor; by the time an
airman appeared to see what had set off the sensors, Zell would be on
the other side of his field.
In the summer of 1982, by which time the US had 1,000 ICBMs scattered
across seven states, Zell attended an event in the nearby town of
Conrad. There, Missoulans Mark Anderlik and Karl Zanzig gave a
presentation on the Silence One Silo campaign, its modest yet audacious
goal encapsulated in its name. The two young men were on the lookout for
people like Zell, farmers sympathetic to their cause who had missiles on
their land. The following summer, Silence One Silo held a several-day
“Little Peace Camp on the Prairie” on the Zell farm, attended by about
200 people. Speakers came from around the state. They surrounded Papa
One with farm machinery and trucks.
Silence One Silo was just one of many efforts: In the 1980s, an
anti-nuclear weapons movement bloomed around the world. Organizations of
physicians and religious leaders banded together. The Mormon Church
opposed a plan to base the Peacekeeper missile in Utah and Nevada.
reagan-gorbachev-inf-signing
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/reagan-gorbachev-inf-signing.jpg>
Mikhail Gorbachev and Ronald Reagan signing the Intermediate-Range
Nuclear Forces Treaty on December 8, 1987 in the East Room of the White
House. (Ronald Reagan Presidential Library)
Then the world changed. In 1988, led by Reagan and Soviet Premier
Mikhail Gorbachev, the United States and Soviet Union joined the
Intermediate-Range Nuclear Forces Treaty, the first agreement to ban an
entire category of nuclear weapons. With the Cold War over and the
Soviet Union in economic shambles, Moscow and Washington made more
serious cuts to their arsenals, both through unilateral moves and the
Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (START I), signed in 1991, which limited
the number of warheads each country could have. The United States
silenced not just one, but 550 nuclear missile silos. In 2008, the Air
Force declared the Zell farm’s silo inactive. It tractored in a 65-foot
transporter erector loader to remove the missile. It blew up the silo
and filled what was left with concrete. The fence remains, surrounding
overgrown dry grass, a rusting sign warning that it’s still a “hazardous
area.”
“We didn't physically shut down any missile silo,” Zell said. “The
treaty shut them down. But we tried to put pressure politically on our
representatives. We tried to bring it to the public's attention.”
zane-zell
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/zane-zell.jpg>
Zane Zell outside his home in Shelby, Montana, holding a copy of an
April 29, 1984 special section on the missile fields published by the
/Missoulian/. (Elisabeth Eaves)
One nuclear weapon could wipe a mid-size city off the map and kill most
of its people. Several nuclear explosions over several cities would kill
tens of millions. If 100 detonated over cities
<https://www.academia.edu/36835898/A_National_Pragmatic_Safety_Limit_for_Nuclear_Weapon_Quantities>,
it would likely cause a global nuclear winter, in which widespread
firestorms blanketed the world in smoke, blocking out sunlight, lowering
the Earth’s temperature, killing off agriculture, and leading to mass
starvation. In 1986, governments possessed a spectacularly redundant
64,099 nuclear warheads <https://thebulletin.org/nuclear-notebook/>, the
vast majority in the hands of the two superpowers, though Great Britain,
France, and China also had a few hundred each.
With the arms reductions that followed the Cold War, by the time a
fresh-faced US President Barack Obama entered office in 2009, there were
“only” 11,410 nuclear warheads
<https://thebulletin.org/nuclear-notebook/> in the world. But by then,
another worrisome trend was afoot: Whereas at the end of the Cold War,
only six governments had nuclear weapons, now nine had them, with India,
Pakistan, and North Korea having joined the United States, Russia,
China, France, Britain, and Israel. With more components and fuels in
more places, experts worried that not only rogue nations but even a
terrorist group might be able to build a crude nuclear weapon.
On a sunny morning in April 2009, Obama gave a speech
<https://obamawhitehouse.archives.gov/the-press-office/remarks-president-barack-obama-prague-delivered>
to tens of thousands of people in Prague. He observed that “in a strange
turn of history, the threat of global nuclear war has gone down, but the
risk of a nuclear attack has gone up.” He pledged his country’s
commitment to a world without nuclear weapons, and went on to negotiate
New START, signed in April 2010, limiting the United States and Russia
to 1,550 deployed strategic warheads each. (Today New START
<https://thebulletin.org/2020/12/new-start-a-timeline-of-inaction-and-disingenuous-proposals/>
is the only remaining treaty limiting the two countries’ nuclear
arsenals; Russia and the United States agreed to extend it for five
years late in January.) Obama’s efforts to reduce nuclear arsenals were
the main reason he won the 2009 Nobel Peace Prize.
Barack Obama's Prague speech on April 5, 2009 was his first major
foreign policy address. (EURACTIV)
But by late 2010, the president was in a bind. To be ratified and go
into effect, New START needed 67 Senate votes, and Obama’s Democratic
Party had only 59 seats. Arizona Senator Jon Kyl, who as Republican whip
influenced how fellow party members voted, had opposed nuclear weapon
agreements in the past.
In May, the White House submitted a congressionally mandated report
(known as the “section 1251 report,” after a section of that year’s
National Defense Authorization Act) in which it outlined a 10-year, $180
billion scheme for maintaining and modernizing nuclear weapons. For Kyl,
that wasn’t enough, and the Arizona senator spent much of the year
pressuring the administration to commit more funds to modernization. He
threatened to withhold support or delay a vote on New START. When
Democrats lost seats in a mid-term election, Obama knew that if the New
START vote was delayed until the next session of Congress, chances of
ratification would be even worse.
As the carrot to his stick, Kyl implied that he could be persuaded to
vote in favor of ratifying New START. For instance, in a July 2010 op-ed
in the /Wall Street Journal/, he wrote that most senators would likely
consider the nuclear treaty “relatively benign” as long as Obama
committed enough money to nuclear modernization. Kyl kept up the
pressure until the White House updated its 1251 report in November,
adding another $5.4 billion for nuclear modernization, including $4.1
billion to be spent between 2012 and 2016. Just two days before the
Senate vote, less than a fortnight before the end of the session, Obama
made a pledge
<https://www.armscontrol.org/act/2019-10/features/recalling-senate-review-new-start>
to four key Republican senators, writing a letter in which he said that
“nuclear modernization requires investment for the long-term,” and
“[t]hat is my commitment to the Congress—that my administration will
pursue these programs and capabilities for as long as I am president.”
His efforts at persuasion worked. On December 22, 71 senators, including
12 Republicans, voted to ratify New START. Kyl, after dangling the
possibility of his support, was not among them.
Obama had his foreign policy victory. The United States and Russia would
cut back on warheads. But it came at the cost of committing extra
billions to nuclear modernization, which helped pave the way for the GBSD.
Legislators, real-estate developers, and industry leaders broke ground
on Northrop Grumman's headquarters for GBSD development near Hill Air
Force Base in Roy, Utah. No military officials were present for the
August 27, 2019 ceremony. (Northrop Grumman)
1611_Cyber+Security+0755a_thmb
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/1611_CyberSecurity0755a_thmb.jpg>
Kathy Warden, speaking at a cybersecurity summit in 2016. She was
appointed CEO of Northrop Grumman in January 2019. (Northrop Grumman)
Power plays
In August 2019 in the suburban city of Roy, Utah, 11 people grabbed
shovels and lined up for a group photo next to a long pile of dirt.
Behind them, the Wasatch mountains shimmered in the summer heat. The
lineup included two real estate executives, four corporate leaders, the
president of the Utah Senate, two of Utah’s four members of the House of
Representatives, and the state’s two senators, Mike Lee and former
Republican presidential candidate Mitt Romney. Though the empty lot in
which they stood adjoined Hill Air Force Base, there were no military
officials among the group. Lee and Romney flanked the central figure
like bishops in a game of chess, but in place of king and queen stood
just one person, Kathy Warden, chief executive officer of Northrop
Grumman, her red jacket vivid against the men’s blues and grays. They
were there to break ground on a Northrop Grumman building, the company’s
GBSD command post, though it had not yet won the contract to build the
weapon. Romney touted the “high-skill, high-paying jobs” the project
would bring to his state. The GBSD had recently survived a defunding
attempt, when, in July 2019, Oregon Democratic Rep. Earl Blumenauer
suggested an independent study on extending the life of the Minuteman
III and delaying its replacement. But his proposed amendment to the
defense authorization bill was voted down.
Raised in small-town Maryland, Warden has an MBA from George Washington
University and early in her career worked for General Electric as a
senior manager in commercial industries. She has said in interviews that
the 9/11 terrorist attacks prompted her to change professional tracks
and switch into defense. “I wanted to create a world that was a safer
place for my son to grow up in,” she told her university alumni
association last year. “That is what made me make a professional change
but also for the past 17 years, is what kept me in this industry because
I feel like I’m doing something to contribute … to impact the world in
some small way.” After a stint as vice president of intelligence systems
at the defense giant General Dynamics, she joined Northrop Grumman as
head of its cybersecurity division in 2008. In January 2019, she
ascended to the top role.
Pasted Graphic 36
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/01/Pasted-Graphic-36.jpg>
A view of the Northrop Grumman Roy Innovation Center under construction
in December 2019. (Cynthia Griggs / US Air Force)
Construction workers toiled on the new Northrop Grumman building next to
Hill Air Force base for more than a year. During that time, as CEO,
Warden participated in quarterly earnings conference calls with
investors, and in every one, someone asked when she expected the big
contract. In the fall of 2019, analysts asked her if either a Federal
Trade Commission investigation or competition from Boeing might affect
the process of awarding a GBSD contract. Each time, she said she
expected a deal by the fall of 2020. She made no mention of the upcoming
presidential election, but everyone knew that a new administration or
significant turnover in the senate could derail the GBSD if it wasn’t a
done deal. Investors also quizzed her about “CapEx,” or capital
expenditures, which are funds a company uses to acquire physical assets
like buildings. In the January 2020 earnings call, Warden said she
expected the company to spend $1.35 billion on capital expenditures in
2020, a figure inflated due to the GBSD, though she didn’t say by how
much. With the new Utah property, the company was clearly spending a lot
on a project it hadn’t yet been hired to do.
In May of 2020, Warden spoke at the Bernstein Strategic Decisions
Conference, an annual investors’ event, held virtually to accommodate
the pandemic. She answered questions in front of a Northrop-logo
backdrop while a Bernstein analyst asked questions from a home office.
In March, the federal government had passed the CARES Act, spending $2.2
trillion to try to rescue the economy from the impact of the pandemic.
It was considering another bailout package. The analyst asked,
delicately, if the health crisis threatened to slow down the GBSD: “Some
people have speculated that, GBSD being a very large long-term program,
if there is budget pressure … Are you seeing any evidence of that as a
possibility, that this could take a little bit longer to push through
development than perhaps we had thought?”
“We're actually seeing quite the opposite focus, a focus on schedule and
the importance of getting through the engineering phase of this program
on time,” she replied. “It is important that we both get started now.”
In early July, the House Armed Services Committee debated the defense
authorization bill for 2021 in a late-night session. By this time, the
coronavirus had shut down huge swathes of the economy, and the United
States was identifying 50,000 new cases per day. House members wore
masks and sat scattered from one another in a cavernous committee room.
Ro Khanna, the California Democrat who represents Silicon Valley, made a
pitch from a video screen. He proposed an amendment that would transfer
$1 billion—or one percent of the missile’s projected cost—away from the
GBSD and into a pandemic preparedness fund.
In the ensuing discussion, Republican Rep. Liz Cheney of Wyoming, home
of F.E. Warren Air Force Base and the city of Cheyenne, which like Great
Falls anticipates a GBSD windfall, countered her colleague
<https://cheney.house.gov/2020/07/02/hasc-unanimously-passes-ndaa-cheney-leads-effort-to-defeat-cuts-to-gbsd/>
with a string of non-sequiturs. She said the Chinese government had
caused the global pandemic; that Congress needed to “hold the Chinese
government accountable for this death and devastation;” and that
Khanna’s plan would benefit the government of China. “It is absolutely
shameful in my view,” she said of his proposal. “I don’t think the
Chinese government, frankly, could imagine in their wildest dreams that
they would have been able to get a member of the United States Congress
to propose, in response to the pandemic, that we ought to cut a billion
dollars out of our nuclear forces.” Khanna’s proposal was voted down.
The House went on to pass a defense authorization bill worth $741
billion, including $1.5 billion for the GBSD to be spent in 2021 alone.
Of course, defense companies don’t expect politicians to vote for
massive defense spending without encouragement, and their efforts at
persuasion take several forms.
First, they hire their former clients, retired military leaders. In a
2018 report, the Project on Government Oversight, a non-partisan
watchdog, counted 24 former senior defense department officials who were
employed at that time by Northrop Grumman.
Second, defense contractors give money to elected officials, though not
directly. A company’s employees, executives, and their family members
may donate to political campaigns, as may the company’s Political Action
Committees, or PACs, which are organizations set up for the purpose of
making such contributions.
The non-partisan Center for Responsive Politics tracks campaign
contributions by industry, tallying how much each corporation gives via
these two proxy methods. The total amount the defense aeronautics
industry gave to national politicians rose steadily from $8.4 million
per two-year election cycle in 1990—as the Cold War ended—to a new peak
of $35.3 million in the 2020 cycle
<https://www.opensecrets.org/industries/totals.php?cycle=2020&ind=D>.
The money is liberally distributed, going to both Republicans and
Democrats—51 percent to 49 percent in 2020—and spread among many campaigns.
Defense companies don’t expect politicians to vote for massive defense
spending without encouragement.
So, for instance, ahead of the 2020 elections, individuals associated
with Northrop Grumman gave $1.55 million to political campaigns, and
Political Action Committees associated with the company gave $3.77
million. Seven-hundred and forty Northrop Grumman PAC donations went to
specific candidates, including five senators and 14 House members from
Utah, Wyoming, Nebraska, Colorado, Montana, and North Dakota—all
would-be beneficiaries of the new missile—in amounts ranging from $2,000
to $10,000 each. A Northrop Grumman PAC donated $12,000 in 2018 and
$10,000 in 2020 to campaigns for Cheney, the Wyoming Republican who
objected to moving money away from the GBSD.
Third, in addition to donating to politicians and their campaigns,
defense companies, like all major industries in America, spend
considerable sums on lobbying, hiring professional influencers to try to
achieve legislative results. In 2019, the defense aeronautics industry
collectively spent $46.9 million on lobbying. Northrop Grumman outspent
all its rivals, paying $13.6 million for 57 individual lobbyists to work
on members of Congress. In 2020, it spent $12 million. Among its many
campaigns, the company paid $60,000 between April and June of last year
to have two partners in The Duberstein Group, David Schiappa and Anne
Wall, influence members of the senate on the GBSD and the Defense
Authorization Act, according to one of the company’s required lobbying
disclosure forms
<https://soprweb.senate.gov/index.cfm?event=getFilingDetails&filingID=86F96CEE-365B-41E9-AC1A-59949092AF7D&filingTypeID=60>.
As is typical in important influence campaigns, one of those partners
had Republican ties and one Democratic. Before they joined The
Duberstein Group, Schiappa was the Republican secretary in the Senate, a
position that schedules legislation and informs senators of pending
bills; Wall was the floor director for Democratic Sen. Dick Durbin of
Illinois.
Lawmakers themselves also frequently become lobbyists. Remember Jon Kyl,
the Arizona senator who, back in 2010, fought so hard to increase
funding for nuclear modernization? Kyl left office in 2013 and became a
lobbyist for Covington & Burling, where he worked on behalf of Northrop
Grumman, among other clients. In 2017 and 2018 alone, Kyl’s work for
Covington & Burling earned him nearly $1.9 million. In September 2018,
after Arizona Sen. John McCain passed away, Kyl returned to fill his
late colleague’s seat for four months, during which time he voted in
favor of a $674 billion defense appropriations package and co-authored
an op-ed in favor of acquiring low-yield nuclear warheads, controversial
“small” atomic weapons. In January, 2019, Kyl returned to Covington &
Burling as a lobbyist, completing what /Politico/ lobbying reporter
Theodoric Meyer called “one of the most elegant spins through
Washington’s revolving door in recent memory.”
None of this—the revolving doors, the campaign donations, or the
lobbying—is illegal or even unusual in US politics. But it is an
essential part of understanding why $100 billion will be spent on the GBSD.
In addition, though—besides nuclear weapons’ deep entrenchment in local
economies; besides Northrop pressing all the levers of power at its
disposal; besides elected officials who equate ICBMs with a strong
defense, and who tend to be from regions the missiles benefit
financially—besides all this, there was another reason Warden could feel
confident about the as-yet-uninked GBSD contract through the spring and
summer of 2020, even as the pandemic raged, unemployment soared, civil
unrest tore through cities, and the West Coast caught fire, upending so
much for so many:
No other company was bidding for the project.
As anyone who has ever hired a plumber knows, it pays to get more than
one bid, and the Pentagon, too, subscribes to this common-sense logic,
at least in theory. In 2015, the undersecretary of defense for
acquisition, Frank Kendall, told reporters that “the trend toward fewer
and larger prime contractors has the potential to affect innovation,
limit the supply base, pose entry barriers to small, medium and large
businesses, and ultimately reduce competition — resulting in higher
prices to be paid by the American taxpayer in order to support our
warfighters.”
Several years ago, multiple companies did plan to compete for the GBSD.
A single acquisition, though, clinched Northrop’s spot as prime contractor.
Jon Kyl, former senator, lobbyist
jon-kyl <https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/jon-kyl.jpg>
Screen Shot 2021-02-03 at 2.57.51 PM
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/Screen-Shot-2021-02-03-at-2.57.51-PM.png>
Photo: Gage Skidmore
<https://www.flickr.com/photos/gageskidmore/40252368475/>
Table: Center for Responsive Politics
<https://www.opensecrets.org/revolving/rev_summary.php?id=77747>
Photo of a model ICBM nose cone during a burn test at Patrick Air Force
Base, Florida, 1956. (Hank Walker / The LIFE Picture Collection via
Getty Images)
Rocket fuel
In the Promontory Mountains of northern Utah, barren hills stand out
against a hot blue sky, while nearby, salt flats glitter in place of
beaches on the shores of the Great Salt Lake. In the 1950s, the company
Thiokol began making and testing rocket engines here amid the moonscape
emptiness. It constructed a complex of roads, buildings, and test
ranges, sprawling over some 30 square miles.
While some rocket engines rely on liquid fuel, America’s modern ICBMs
use solid fuel, a technology Thiokol pioneered. Solid fuel starts out
with a peanut-butter-like consistency before it is baked into a hard,
rubbery mass to which an igniter is attached. Over the years, Thiokol
built solid-fuel engines for NASA’s Space Shuttle, as well as for the
Peacekeeper and Minuteman nuclear missiles, all tested in Promontory.
After the Cold War, demand for weapons of mass destruction shrank, and
the US defense industry went through a wave of mergers. The company ATK
swallowed Thiokol in 2001, and Orbital Sciences swallowed ATK in 2015,
resulting in a company called Orbital ATK, which inherited the
rocket-testing expanse in Promontory. Orbital ATK was now one of only
two solid-fuel rocket engine makers in the country, the other being
California-based Aerojet Rocketdyne.
promotory-rocket-garden-history
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/promotory-rocket-garden-history.gif>
The “rocket garden” at the Promontory, Utah testing-site, as seen over
decades of corporate mergers. A Minuteman I missile rises in the
background. (Kelly Michals / Judy Baum / Dreamstime)
By this time Northrop Grumman, itself the result of multiple mergers,
was one of the largest US defense companies. (As of 2020, it was the
fifth largest, after Lockheed Martin, Boeing, General Dynamics, and
Raytheon.) Like its fellow leviathans, it had its eye on the Pentagon’s
faucet of nuclear modernization contracts, and like them, it had no
in-house capacity to build solid-fuel rocket engines. If it was going to
build an ICBM, it would have to subcontract to acquire the engines from
elsewhere. But why buy milk when you can afford a cow? Northrop Grumman
set its sights on acquiring Orbital ATK. The Federal Trade Commission
scrutinized and eventually approved the purchase, though it issued a
decision prohibiting Northrop Grumman from price discrimination when its
competitors came shopping for solid rocket motors. In 2018, Northrop
bought Orbital ATK for $9.2 billion, and with it the Promontory rocket
range, just 45 miles northwest of Roy and the Hill Air Force Base.
When the Air Force invited bids for the first portion of the GBSD
project—a preliminary contract known as the technology maturation and
risk reduction phase—Lockheed Martin, Northrop Grumman, and Boeing all
submitted proposals; the latter two won contracts in 2017. The industry,
and the Air Force, expected that both Northrop Grumman and Boeing would
eventually submit competing bids for the main contract, known as the
engineering, manufacturing, and development phase. But in the summer of
2019, Boeing dropped out of the race with complaints that the process
was unfair. A Boeing spokesman later told /Washington Business Journal/
that one reason it decided not to bid was “concern about Northrop
Grumman’s compliance with a 2018 Federal Trade Commission order that
prohibits it from discriminating in the sale of solid rocket motors.” At
the time Boeing withdrew, though, it was also suffering in other
departments, with aviation authorities having grounded its 737 Max
jetliner after two crashes. The company may not have wanted to take on
the expense and risk of bidding for the nuclear missile.
northrop-grumman-roy-innovation-center
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/northrop-grumman-roy-innovation-center.jpg>
Northrop Grumman's Roy Innovation Center opened in 2020, with space for
1,200 employees working on the GBSD missile. (Elisabeth Eaves)
By August, 2020, Northrop Grumman’s new three-story nerve center in Roy
was nearly complete and partially occupied, with a #MASKUPGBSD sign
taped to the door. In September, to the surprise of no one in the
defense industry, the Air Force finally crowned Northrop with the GBSD
deal. The initial $13.3 billion contract covers 8.5 years, up to and
including testing the new weapon. Work will take place in Roy and at the
testing range in Promontory, as well as in six other states. Money will
flow to hundreds of sub-contractors. Ten thousand people will be
directly employed. Returns will accrue to the 70-odd financial
institutions
<https://www.dontbankonthebomb.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/06/2019_HOS_web.pdf>
that invest in Northrop Grumman, and to the pensions, mutual funds, and
retirement accounts they control.
I asked Latiff to hypothesize on why the Air Force was okay with a
single-bid contract for such an enormous undertaking. “The Air Force,
honestly, is not okay with it, but the Air Force really didn’t have any
choice,” he said. The fact that it had no choice—at least not one that
wouldn’t subject the project to more political scrutiny—speaks to a
basic truth about the publicly traded companies that sell enormous and
complex weapons systems to governments around the world: In many ways,
they’re more powerful than the Pentagon.
Why buy milk when you can afford a cow?
Demonstration of missileers arming switches at the deputy commander's
console and inserting the commander's launch key at the Minuteman
Missile National Historic Site. (National Park Service)
What could go wrong?
In the early 1970s, around the time Zane Zell was bothering the fence
around missile silo Papa One on his farm, Bruce Blair was serving as a
missileer. He spent a harrowing night under the wheat fields of Montana
in the fall of 1973. Israel and its Arab neighbors—client states of the
United States and the Soviet Union, respectively—were at war. On October
24, Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev told US President Richard Nixon his
country might have to consider “taking appropriate steps unilaterally”
in the conflict. On October 25, the United States put its nuclear forces
on alert. Sitting in a launch control capsule, Blair and his crewmate
received an emergency message from the Pentagon, ordering them to
prepare to fire. “With a rush of adrenalin, we opened our safe and
retrieved the launch keys and the codes needed to authenticate a launch
order, and strapped into our chairs to brace for blast waves produced by
incoming Soviet nuclear warheads,” he later wrote
<https://thebulletin.org/premium/2020-01/loose-cannons-the-president-and-us-nuclear-posture/>.
They waited for the order to fire. Hundreds of hours in launch
simulators had conditioned them to act immediately when it came.
Blair and his crewmate never got the order. The crisis passed. It was
likely the closest the two countries had come to nuclear war since the
Cuban missile crisis in 1962. It was one of multiple close calls and
errors during the Cold War that could have ended with hundreds of
thousands of people dead. In the 2000s, after earning a doctorate in
operations research and spending years working on the academic side of
national security, Blair began campaigning to get rid of nuclear weapons
altogether, co-founding the organization Global Zero. “There wasn't
really a morally driven or philosophically driven change of heart,” he
said on the phone in May from his home in Pennsylvania. “It was really
just the realization that we're not going to be able to manage all the
risks.” The more he learned, the more he worried. “An extremely
low-probability event is eventually going to happen,” he said. Today
Global Zero counts not just politicians, academics, and diplomats among
its active supporters, but retired military leaders, mostly generals,
from every country that has nuclear weapons except North Korea,
including the United States, Russia, and China.
US President Dwight Eisenhower famously coined the term
“military-industrial complex” in his 1961 farewell speech, warning
Americans to guard against its “acquisition of unwarranted influence.”
They didn’t. In an earlier, less famous speech, before he authorized the
first Minuteman program in 1955, Eisenhower said “every gun that is
made, every warship launched, every rocket fired signifies, in the final
sense, a theft from those who hunger and are not fed, those who are cold
and are not clothed.”
Today, nuclear weapons are the food on the table in too many cases. I
asked Blair how to get rid of a weapon so entrenched in people’s
livelihoods. “It’s a serious hurdle to overcome,” he said. Blair passed
away from a stroke, at the age of 72, in July.
What if rural Montana could have high-quality roads without the Air
Force? What if a military base weren’t the only route to a dignified
living? What if the range of choices available to Americans wasn’t so
narrow that building a weapon of mass destruction can come to be seen as
an essential paycheck?
In our mental landscapes, a nuclear war and a supervolcanic eruption
understandably seem similar. They would both kill masses, darken the
skies, and change life as we know it, and both are unlikely to happen.
But they are fundamentally different. One of them, humans build, and can
dismantle.
c-2-silo-fence
<https://thebulletin.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/02/c-2-silo-fence.png>
A civilian's view of Minuteman missile silo C-2, in central Montana.
(Elisabeth Eaves)
*Elisabeth Eaves* <https://thebulletin.org/biography/elisabeth-eaves>
is a contributing editor for the /Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists./
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*Keywords:* GBSD <https://thebulletin.org/tag/gbsd/>, ICBM
<https://thebulletin.org/tag/icbm/>, John Kyl
<https://thebulletin.org/tag/john-kyl/>, Minuteman III
<https://thebulletin.org/tag/minuteman-iii/>, Northrup Grumman
<https://thebulletin.org/tag/northrup-grumman/>, ground-based strategic
deterrent
<https://thebulletin.org/tag/ground-based-strategic-deterrent-2/>,
intercontinental ballistic missile
<https://thebulletin.org/tag/intercontinental-ballistic-missile/>,
nuclear modernization <https://thebulletin.org/tag/nuclear-modernization/>
*Topics:* Nuclear Weapons
<https://thebulletin.org/nuclear-risk/nuclear-weapons/>
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