By the mid-1950s it was already becoming habitual to put the word ‘win’ in quotation marks when using it in connection with nuclear war. Traditional notions of victory and defeat dissolved in the face of the unavoidable level of destruction that even the technical winner would suffer. Every victory would be pyrrhic. ‘The concepts of “winning” and “losing” have to do with the military or power outcome of the war’, observed Snyder, ‘They have nothing to do with the intrinsic costs of damage suffered in the war’.1 Such a view lay behind the efforts of limited war theorists to encourage moderation in war-aims. There was little point in fighting for total objectives, such as the end of communism, when a total victory was impossible. This did not make total war completely unthinkable. Perhaps countries would really fight ‘to the death’ in defence of cherished values. The benefit of war, in terms of horrors prevented if not of advantages gained, might still outweigh the costs even though the costs were high. The judgment turned on the anticipated levels of the costs and benefits, and the values attached to them.
The victor will be in a position to issue orders to the loser and the loser will have to obey them or face complete chaos or extinction. The victor will then go on to organize what remains of the world as best he can. Certainly he will try to see to it that there is never again a possibility that the loser possesses nuclear weapons.2
He argued that those who could conceive of victory in nuclear war believed that its foundation would lie in the West maintaining ‘indefinitely a position of nuclear attack-defense superiority versus the Soviet Union and its satellites’. The value of such superiority would not be in added increments of destructive power. There was a clear law of diminishing marginal returns involved with attacks on cities. After the first few blows, additional bombs would, as Churchill put it, ‘only make the rubble bounce’. The only worthwhile superiority would be in methods of depriving the adversary of his nuclear armaments and then blocking any retaliatory forces that he might still be able to muster before they reached their targets. By such means the costs of a nuclear war might be brought down to a tolerable level, given the issues at stake.
The ability to ‘prevail’ in a nuclear exchange depended on exploiting new technologies that were improving both the means of offence and defence. The strategic concepts involved were derived from the traditional theory of strategic airpower. This placed great emphasis on securing command of the air so as to make it impossible for the enemy air force to operate, by destroying it either on the ground or in the air. The professional airmen were therefore ready to view the new technology as facilitating further moves in an old game.
If it was becoming possible to mount a serious attack on the enemy’s nuclear stockpiles and delivery vehicles, it appeared good sense to get in this attack before the enemy forces had a chance to do any damage. And if Americans thought in that way, then there were good reasons to believe that the Soviets might be having similar thoughts. As the ‘potential aggressors’, they would wish to ensure that they derived the maximum benefit from their first blow.3 If the Soviet leadership felt that there was a good chance of getting away with a surprise attack that deprived the US of means of retaliation the strategy of deterrence would face a potentially fatal challenge.
The first theorists of the atomic age were impressed by how little one had to do to ensure devastating effects with atomic bombs. If only a few weapons-carriers could penetrate determined defences, the result would be an unprecedented disaster for the victim country. In the early 1950s thermonuclear bombs were hailed as individual ‘city-busters’. One of these weapons on a major city was thought likely to deter all but the most cold-blooded aggressor. Even with some uncertainty as to the victim’s threshold of pain, the basic requirement was for a stockpile of bombs that could almost be counted in tens rather than hundreds. At first there was a discrepancy between the notions of devastation among those who had accurate knowledge of the weapons versus outsiders who often had fantastical views about nuclear effects. Reality eventually caught up.4 As arsenals grew so did the anticipated level of destruction and with it assumptions about what was necessary to achieve the requisite strategic effects. But as time went on awkward questions began to be raised on the likely character of nuclear exchanges and the opportunities available to a skilful, imaginative and well-prepared attacking force. As strategists in both East and West pondered the advantages of getting in a surprise first blow, they became impressed by just how much one had to do to ensure devastating effects.
The theories of limited war assumed a growing nuclear stalemate. Once the problem of producing nuclear weapons in quantity had been solved, there seemed no reason to believe that the problem of delivering them to targets would prove insuperable. And once that problem had been solved prospective victims could do little to escape the threat of destruction. Large nuclear stockpiles, accumulated in parallel, would cancel each other out, so resulting in a stable balance of terror. It would be in everybody’s interest to discourage nuclear exchanges. Those who felt this to be self-evident saw their task as being to point it out to those who seemed disposed not to notice.
The original view was that deterrence depended on an imbalance of terror in the West’s favour. The preponderance of US nuclear forces, enhanced by its technological dynamism, would keep the Soviet Union’s expansive tendencies in check. World peace was not helped by a balance of terror, for the West did not need to be deterred. No community rests soundly when the forces of law and order and the criminal fraternity have an equality of strength. A stalemate at the nuclear level would accentuate the significance of NATO’s inferiority at the conventional level. If Soviet nuclear power was bound to grow then a way had to be found for the United States to use its nuclear power more effectively in order to maintain a measure of usable superiority.
One alternative possibility was to arrest the growth of Soviet military power through bold and timely action, exploiting America’s comparative nuclear advantage while it lasted. Occasional calls to this effect—for preventive war—were heard during the period of US monopoly and overwhelming superiority. Churchill argued in 1948 for bringing ‘matters to a head’ before the Americans lost their monopoly. Air officers advocated this course even after the first Soviet test, although they tended to be circumspect in public, especially after the Commandant of the Air War College, Major General Orville Anderson, had been fired in 1950 for expressing this view.5 The calls intensified as it became apparent that this period of US superiority was coming to an end. Under the Eisenhower Administration there was some perfunctory consideration of whether it was time to opt for a preventive war. This was one of the options discussed under Project Solarium: ‘the U.S. cannot continue to live with the Soviet threat. So long as the Soviet Union exists, it will not fall apart, but must and can be shaken apart’. This adverse trend could only be reversed by ‘positive action’.
It might be the case that the Soviet Union would have few qualms about suddenly launching an unprovoked attack if the moment was considered right, but the prevailing view was that it would be quite out of character for the US ever to do such a thing. This was one of the key matters of principle that set democratic apart from totalitarian societies. NSC-68 observed: ‘It goes without saying that the idea of “preventive” war—in the sense of a military attack not provoked by a military attack upon us or our allies—is generally unacceptable to Americans.’ Army Chief of Staff Matthew Ridgway denounced this course as ‘contrary to every principle upon which our Nation had been founded’, and ‘abhorrent to the great mass of American people’.6 American leaders always reacted with disbelief to the suggestion that the Soviet Union might not be so confident in America’s good behaviour. According to Dulles: ‘Khrushchev does not need to be convinced of our good intentions. He knows we are not aggressors and do not threaten the security of the Soviet Union’.7 In 1958, responding to a suggestion that the US had a last chance to ‘knock out the Soviet Union’s military capability’, Dulles observed: ‘no man should arrogate to himself the power to decide that the future of mankind would benefit by an action entailing the killing of tens of millions of people.’8
The other alternative was taken more seriously. This was pre-emptive war. The distinction in terms of both practical requirements and outside appearances between this and preventive war could seem to be no more than a couple of letters and a hyphen. Both came down in essence to a readiness to be the first to launch a nuclear attack. Nevertheless there were differences. One was over the appropriate moment for a nuclear strike. Preventive war advocacy was based on a concern over an historical shift in the military balance, or what the Soviets called ‘the correlation of forces’. Any moment before that shift had been completed would be favourable for a strike; any moment after completion would be unfavourable. Pre-emptive war was, on the other hand, tied to a specific situation, most likely to arise after the completion of this historical shift, when there were strong grounds for believing that a Soviet strike was imminent.
In order to make atomic retaliation effective as a deterrent to aggression, we must decide now and prepare to strike first whenever we have positive evidence that an attack is being mounted against the United States. Such a policy does not contemplate preventive war or a sneak attack. We would only strike if the prospective enemy did not cease preparing to attack us or our allies by a certain time.9
The reactive aspect of this strategy satisfied the moral principle of attacking only in self-defence, though how certain the Americans would have to be of the imminence of a Soviet attack before launching one of their own was never made completely clear. The military principle was that of getting in the first blow. To the proponents of pre-emptive war that was the paramount consideration. Colonel Jack Nicholas wrote: ‘conceding the initiative in the thermonuclear age is an enormous concession. At best it could produce a critical military situation for us. At worst it carries the seeds of a national disaster’.10 The Air Force was not prepared to concede the initiative to the Soviet Union, especially if the first blow could be decisive. For if it could be decisive then it was still possible to imagine a clear victory in a confrontation with the Soviet Union through the effective use of nuclear weapons. This represented the last chance for a realistic alternative to nuclear stalemate.
To its opponents one of the more deplorable features of the policy of massive retaliation was that it put the threat of genocide at the centre of American strategy. Those who objected to targeting cities sought for ways in which the wars of the nuclear age could be fought along traditional lines, concentrating on an effort to destroy the enemy’s armed forces rather than his civilian population. Limited war theorists placed great emphasis on this point. In the process they began to explore the possibility of developing capabilities for ‘counter-force’ as opposed to ‘counter-city’ strikes.
To the Air Force the main virtue in counter-force was not respect for non-combatants, though they were pleased to point to this humanitarian ‘bonus’. It was certainly hoped that refraining from attacking cities would keep down the loss of life, but there was little pretence that civilian suffering could be avoided. T.F. Walkowicz, a former senior Air Force officer and one of the main advocates of counter-force, recognized the difficulty of making clear distinctions between military and counter-economy targets. He noted that ‘major air bases are frequently located near cities; troops can be concentrated in cities; and submarine bases are associated with major seaports. Thus, even counter-force operations will inevitably lead to some destruction of Soviet cities’.11 The real value was in the opportunity it provided for actually defeating the enemy. It was seen as a method of fighting a total not a limited war. On this view, limited war was an unrealistic proposition. There was no reason to believe that the Kremlin would fight with hands tied behind its back or would forsake its long-term objectives for more modest gains. If war came it would be fought for the highest stakes with no holds barred. Senior Air Force officers argued that this was the sort of war the US had to prepare to fight and should not be diverted by the hope that fighting could be confined to battlefields comparable to those of the last war.
The airmen also wished for a greater purpose in war than merely neutralizing the airpower of the other side and were eager to prove that the first blow could be decisive. The most consistent theme of USAF doctrinal pronouncements was that the manned bomber would have a critical role. This influenced and coloured its beliefs about what was right, proper, and necessary in the nuclear age. The Air Force and its supporters scoffed at the very idea that air defence could seriously impede a bomber offensive. Charles Murphy, a journalist with good Air Force connections, insisted that protection against nuclear attack was ‘unattainable and in any case completely impractical, economically and technically’.12 On this basis air defence was seen more as a competitor for a share of the budget than a complement in an overall strategy. The only countermeasure to one state’s bombing campaign was the enemy state’s bombing campaign.
The USAF had applauded the doctrine of massive retaliation for turning airpower into the Great Deterrent. Gradually, however, it became unhappy with the thought that should deterrence fail there would be little to be done but attack Soviet cities, as it was increasingly likely that there would be retaliation in kind. This was hardly a rational response to aggression. A threat that would, in all probability, turn out to be empty when challenged lacked credibility. A credible threat would be an American capability to win a nuclear war without intolerable loss. The Soviet Union’s growing nuclear strength was reducing the American interest in a counter-economy war. As it would be impossible to mobilize the country’s industrial base after the start of war (because of the likely disruption and destruction from nuclear attacks) it would have to be decided with forces-in-being at the start of hostilities. A decisive result was more likely if the enemy’s forces could be reduced significantly by a timely attack. The main effect of bombardment of cities, however, would be to invite retaliation against one’s own cities. Striking out at all forces, not just nuclear forces, offered a way of winning a war at tolerable cost. In 1955 the Air Force Association, reflecting the views of SAC, warned of the obsolescence of massive retaliation and demanded the ‘ability and the determination to apply our airpower the instant active aggression becomes evident on the part of the Soviet Union’.13
The requirements for actually fighting a nuclear war were exacting, if terminal retaliation was to be avoided. It required reducing the enemy’s strike forces to manageable quantities as well as improving means of defence. This included possible protection for the civilian population from blast and fallout. The offence-minded Air Force might need to reverse a past position and encourage defences. Superiority must be pursued vigorously in all departments. The essential message was that thermonuclear war was not necessarily going to be suicidal; America could survive, battered but capable of recovery. It would be possible ‘to live through a major nuclear war and even to re-establish a national economy and society’.14
[W]e will first employ our long-range strategic bombers in a retaliatory action as expeditiously as possible. Atomic bombs will be used and the system of targets to be attacked will be those which would produce the maximum ‘blunting’ effect. That is, the results we would hope to obtain would be those that will produce the greatest immediate damage and destruction to the enemy, thus reducing his capability to operate against vital objectives of the United States and its allies.16
In 1946 William Liscum Borden, a former bomber pilot, who was convinced that war with the Soviet Union was inevitable, argued forcefully that the opening shots of a future war would be directed against military facilities rather than cities. This would be a ‘rocket Pearl Harbor’. The initial targets would be ‘fortresses on land, warships at sea, and our island outposts’.17 However, few of the earlier works on nuclear strategy gave the idea much prominence. While nuclear stockpiles were small, the available weapons had to be devoted to attacks on cities. Furthermore, it was thought unlikely that any nation would permit vital military resources to be concentrated in a few vulnerable targets.
The present state of the aeronautical art makes the satellites feasible in the not-too-distant future. A few simple calculations, assuming lenses no larger than those now used in aerial photography, show that these might see, and return to earth by electronic means, gross details of larger military installations.18
If the enemy’s retaliatory capability could be found then it might be destroyed on the ground. Then all the effort that the Russians had put into catching up with the Americans would be as nought. One well-aimed blow would disarm them, prevent a response in kind, and render them vulnerable to the remaining American bombers.
But as with all attempts to discover a form of nuclear war that would work to the advantage of the West, problems arose as soon as the Soviet Union attained comparable capabilities. Once both sides enjoyed a disarming capability then the first blow could decide the whole course of a war. It was not a situation to appeal to those of a nervous disposition yet, if such a capability was feasible, the thought that the Soviets might get it first was incentive enough for the Americans to push ahead. Developments along these lines would steer the arms race towards something almost directly opposite to a stalemate. The feasibility of the blunting mission thus had tremendous implications for the whole character of the nuclear balance.
In the late 1950s, Soviet military strength seemed to be growing daily and there were a series of crises in Asia, in the Middle East and in Europe (where the uncertain status of Berlin was proving to be a persistent source of tension). In these circumstances, war was considered a realistic prospect. ‘The danger of total war is real and finite’, wrote Brodie. ‘So long as there is a finite chance of war, we have to be interested in outcomes; and although all outcomes will be bad, some would be very much worse than others.’ If war came, getting in the first blow would provide an undoubted advantage. So it was necessary to ensure that one’s own retaliatory force was protected and it was necessary, to the extent possible, to prepare for an American first blow.
We have and will probably continue to have obligations under treaties which require us to defend our partners with all the resources at our command from nuclear attack. For this and other reasons we need the capability for a first strike both in spirit and military power.19
The other requirement was for a measure of civil defence: protecting key elements in the fabric of society; constructing fallout shelters; and planning and practising evacuation. Brodie’s Strategy in the Missile Age conveys a sense of the gap between the desirable and the practical. The book is gloomy because it is aware of the possibility of war and the likelihood that it would cause horrific levels of destruction.
Would you prefer a warm, human error? Do you feel better with a nice emotional mistake? We cannot expect good discussions of security problems if we are going to label every attempt at detachment as callous, every attempt at objectivity as immoral.
Was it necessary, he asked, for experts to repeat ‘If, heaven forbid’, before every sentence.22
Kahn had worked on a major investigation of possibilities for civil defence and had come to the conclusion that thermonuclear war could be survived more easily than many people thought. There were alternative post-war states, all regrettable but nonetheless distinguishable. The distinctions were important, argued Kahn, because they were relevant to America’s willingness to take on the Soviet Union. Kahn reported somewhat macabre conversations with representative Americans on the sacrifice in lives ‘acceptable’ to prevent a Communist take-over in Europe. Apparently the threshold of tolerance was the loss of a third of the population; a half would be too much. So if casualties could be kept down, Americans could bravely contemplate war, the deterrent threat would be strengthened and, if the threat failed to deter, war could be fought to something less than the ultimate disaster. ‘Sober study shows’, reported Kahn using his favourite adjective, ‘that the limits on the magnitude of the catastrophe seem to be closely dependent on what kinds of preparations have been made, and on how the war is started and fought’.
We must still be able to fight and survive wars just as long as it is possible to have such a capability. Not only is it prudent to take out insurance against a war occurring unintentionally, but we must also be able to stand up to the threat of fighting, or credibly to threaten to initiate a war ourselves—unpleasant though this sounds and is. We must at least make it risky for the enemy to force us into situations in which we must choose between fighting and appeasing…. Under current programs the United States may in a few years find itself unwilling to accept a Soviet retaliatory blow, no matter what the provocation. To get into such a situation would be equivalent to disowning our alliance obligations by signing what would amount to a nonaggression treaty with the Soviets—a nonaggression treaty with almost 200 million American hostages to guarantee performance…. These remarks will distress all who very properly view the thought of fighting a war with so much horror they feel very uneasy at having a high-quality deterrent force, much less a credible capability for initiating, fighting, and terminating all kinds of war. I can sympathize with this attitude. But I believe it borders on the irresponsible.23
Kahn was particularly concerned to debunk the notion that the parallel nuclear capabilities made war inconceivable. He reminded his readers, as had Brodie, that the obligations of the United States to NATO required the ability to strike against the Soviet Union even if it had not been attacked itself. ‘The agonizing decision to start an all-out thermonuclear war would be ours.’ He refused to accept that the threat of mutual suicide would guarantee deterrence. Moreover, it would leave the US helpless if it did ‘fail’. In such circumstances the US would want a capability to prevail in the ensuing conflict. If they had such a capability then deterrence would be much stronger in the first place. Thus he argued for a ‘Credible First-Strike Capability’.
Credibility depends on being willing to accept the other side’s retaliatory blow. It depends on the harm he can do, not on the harm we can do. It depends as much on air defense and civil defense as air offense. It depends on will as well as capability. It depends on the provocation and on the state of our mind when the provocation occurs.24
Complementary to counter-force capabilities therefore would be adequate civil defence preparations and a suitably sacrificial frame of mind. The Air Force considered civil defence at best a secondary issue, a diversion from the most important work on offensive systems. It did not suit RAND to challenge Air Force priorities so in 1961 Kahn left to set up his own think-tank—the Hudson Institute—where he could continue to push for civil defence as a means of demonstrating that the Americans could be as determined as the Soviets in preparing for nuclear war.25