Andrei Sakharov’s statue on Sakharov Square in St. Petersburg with university buildings in the background.
Source: Photograph by and courtesy of the author.
Andrei D. Sakharov (1921–1989), nuclear physicist and former pupil of Igor Tamm, was not well known before he became the most famous Soviet “dissident” and a fearless fighter for human rights during the last two decades of the existence of the Soviet Union. His other distinction was “father of the Soviet hydrogen bomb.” While he was with the Soviet hydrogen bomb project, he earned three stars of a Hero of Socialist Labor and jumped from being a Candidate of Science to full member of the Soviet Academy of Sciences at the age of thirty-two—an unprecedented achievement.
Eventually, he started questioning the justification of nuclear tests, and ultimately, he was eased out of the Soviet nuclear weapons program. He developed an interest in Soviet human rights violations and became a leading figure in fighting for the persecuted and prosecuted. He was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1975, well before he entered the most probing period of his struggles. He risked his freedom and his health and was exiled from Moscow and subjected to continuous harassment, but nothing deterred him from his dedication to science and his human rights activities. He never abandoned his interest in fundamental physics, and performed pioneering research, including controlled thermonuclear reactions and cosmomicrophysics.
He was one of the most influential scientists in his contribution to making the Soviet Union a superpower. He was also one of the most influential individuals who forced Mikhail Gorbachev and the Soviet leadership to retreat, contributing to the collapse of the Soviet empire.
Few other scientists did as much to achieve the superpower status for the Soviet Union as Andrei Sakharov, and few fought its human rights violations with as much dedication and self-sacrifice. His gradual transformation was a most remarkable change. A third component of his life’s work was his outstanding achievements in fundamental physics.
Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov was born on May 21, 1921, in Moscow.1 There were two strong influences at home. He grew up religious, and although at the age of thirteen he stopped believing in God, he retained a lifelong respect for those who did. The other influence was his father’s physics. Dmitrii Sakharov taught physics and was a prolific author of physics books, both textbooks for undergraduates and popular science. Sakharov’s mother taught gymnastics in school. Sakharov was a sensitive child and characterized himself by an “awkwardness in dealing with people” that lasted throughout his whole life.2 Despite this “awkwardness,” however, he never avoided the company of others.
Once he reached school age, he received instruction at home for the first five years, together with a few other children. When he finally went to school, he did not enjoy it; he did not make friends, and was not very good with his hands. His parents decided to keep him at home for a few more years before letting him go back to school for the final years of general schooling. At the time, attending school was not obligatory in the Soviet Union, and many families of the Soviet intelligentsia preferred to start instruction at home rather than send their children into the chaotic school system. Over time, the Soviet school system became highly disciplined and rigorously structured.
Young Andrei was observant and deep thinking. Relying on his readings, he discovered that most natural phenomena can be reduced to interactions between atoms and expressed by mathematical formulas. He participated in competitions in mathematics and physics, but racing against time had a paralyzing effect on him, so he stopped such activities. At the age of fourteen, he started to do physics experiments at home. Reading books about physics was even more enticing for him, and he extended his reading toward other areas of science. He was impressed by Paul de Kruif’s Microbe Hunters. This book had impacted many other youngsters of his generation on their way to becoming outstanding scientists, including several future Nobel laureates.
In the fall of 1938, Sakharov became a freshman at the Faculty of Physics, Moscow State University. World War II started on September 1, 1939, but it caught up with the Soviet Union only on June 22, 1941. In Sakharov’s senior year the university was evacuated to Ashkhabad, Turkmenistan, near the Iranian border. In spite of the war conditions, he received a good education. It was unusual in his generation, but Sakharov never joined the Komsomol, the communist youth organization. This was not a stand for or against anything; it just happened that way. It is true, though, that he found the ideology of Marxism-Leninism—one of the mandatory subjects in his studies—hard to digest, but he did not have any objection to what it represented.
After graduation, and throughout the war, Sakharov worked as an engineer in a munitions plant in Ulyanovsk, about 500 miles east of Moscow. He showed himself to be skilled and excelled with technological innovations. In addition to his daytime work, he continued his self-education and worked on theoretical problems. He came across Yakov Frenkel’s book on quantum mechanics and relativity, which was a revelation for him. He met his future wife, Klavdia “Klava” Vikhrieva at work. She had completed four years of study of chemical technology at the Leningrad Institute of Technology before the war, and worked in the laboratory of chemical analysis. They married on July 10, 1943, and had three children, Tatyana “Tanya” in 1945, Lyubov “Lyuba” in 1949, and Dmitrii “Mitya” in 1957.
Sakharov’s father had known the renowned theoretical physicist Igor Tamm (see chapter 1) who worked in the famous Physical Institute of the Academy of Sciences (Fizicheskii Institut Akademii Nauk [FIAN]). Sakharov sent Tamm his first manuscripts of a theoretical nature, but received no response. Sakharov did not become discouraged, and in December 1944, he turned to Tamm when he wanted to begin his doctoral studies. This time, he and his father did not leave anything to chance. Sakharov’s father notified Tamm about his son’s intentions. Tamm received Sakharov cordially, and though he noted substantial holes in Sakharov’s knowledge, he was upset only by Sakharov’s lack of English. He advised the young man to learn it right away. His other suggestion was to start reading the classics on relativity and quantum mechanics to which Frenkel’s book proved to be a good introduction.
FIAN and Tamm’s group in it had a friendly atmosphere, which helped Sakharov adapt to his new environment. He greatly benefited from Tamm’s seminars. There was the intimate Friday seminar in Tamm’s private office, where only his own small group discussed current research problems. There was then the Tuesday seminar in theoretical physics in a big conference hall, which was open to all physicists. It was of the colloquium type; the participants were assigned papers in recent literature to report on at the next seminar. It was in Sakharov’s nature that he did not take anything for granted and was grateful to have the privilege of being part of Tamm’s seminars.
In addition to other requirements, graduate students were supposed to fulfill some teaching obligations. Sakharov taught three semesters of physics at the Moscow Energetics Institute, where he encountered innovative physics. He also encountered social issues of which, for the time being, he remained a passive observer. Some of the physicists at the Institute were engaged in research that, Sakharov would say in retrospect, could have led to the design of what today is known as the laser. Alas, the researchers involved happened to be Jewish; during these postwar years their situation was becoming increasingly precarious, and they were not allowed to develop their research potential.3
Sakharov had noted anti-Semitism already during the war, and more so during the ensuing years. He was touched by this, because he sensed certain “Jewish” qualities that attracted him. He described one of his youthful friends in the following way: “his inner purity, his contemplative nature, and a melancholy empathy that seems to be an innate Jewish characteristic.”4 In the postwar Soviet Union anti-Semitic incidents were increasing, with official sanction. The euphemism “cosmopolitanism” did not hide the reality of anti-Semitism.5 Sakharov felt the injustice of persecution deeply.
Still, Sakharov tried to keep a distance from everything not related to his studies. In fall 1947, he completed his dissertation for the Candidate of Science degree (PhD equivalent). It dealt with interactions and transformations of elementary particles. Today, they are called “fundamental particles,” and many more are known than in Sakharov’s time. Two of Lev Landau’s (see chapter 5) pupils, both future academicians, Isaak Pomeranchuk and Arkadii Migdal, judged his dissertation.
Sakharov proved to be a gifted researcher with original ideas. He was hard-working; his work was his hobby. He produced many results, and he published them in due course, though publishing was not a trivial matter. There was considerable red tape before a manuscript could be submitted for publication. It had to be certified that the work did not contain classified information, such as military applications. When Sakharov later wrote articles that had political and societal considerations, he learned that many other kinds of information were also classified in the Soviet Union, including data about crimes, accidents, natural disasters, alcoholism and other ills of society, work safety, damage to the environment, industrial and agricultural production, and so on. It was a long list, and it made publishing extremely difficult.
Sakharov’s excellence was noticed by the people who were setting up the Soviet nuclear weapons program. Igor Kurchatov offered him a prestigious position at his Institute of Atomic Energy, which other outstanding scientists had already joined. Sakharov resisted attempts to entice him away from FIAN, preferring fundamental research in Tamm’s group. When he finally shifted his research from fundamental questions to the nuclear area, he was not asked to do it; he was merely told to do so. Yet this did not make him feel uncomfortable because Tamm had been charged with organizing a small group of theoretical physicists at FIAN to assist the work on thermonuclear explosives—the hydrogen bomb.
Sakharov became a member of this highly classified project in June 1948, and his status was elevated to the position of Senior Scientist. Soon, he got a raise in salary, and his family was given a room of 150 square feet in a communal apartment.6 “Communal” meant many rooms, with one family living in each room and all the families sharing a common hall, toilet, and kitchen. The room was small and the arrangement uncomfortable, but it was a definite improvement. Before, the Sakharovs had lived in rented spaces and were at the mercy of landlords. This change prompted Yakov Zeldovich to quip that this “was the first use of thermonuclear energy for peaceful purposes.”7
The thermonuclear or hydrogen bomb is also called the “fusion bomb,” because in it an enormous amount of energy is liberated in the fusion reaction between light atoms, such as, for example, the reaction between one deuterium and one tritium (both are heavier isotopes of hydrogen) yielding one helium, one neutron, and energy:
D + T → He + n + energy
The adjective “thermonuclear” indicates that very hot conditions are necessary for the reaction to take place and that the nuclei of the atoms are involved in it. Energy liberated in this reaction derives from the mass difference: the mass of one helium atom and one neutron is smaller than the mass of the deuterium and tritium taken together. The mass-to-energy conversion is described by Einstein’s famous equation, E = mc2, where E is energy, m is mass, and c is the speed of light.
The energy produced in stars comes from thermonuclear reactions at a temperature of many millions of degrees, which is still lower than the temperature necessary for such a reaction under terrestrial conditions. Matter is considerably compressed in the stars, which facilitates the reaction and thus allows it to happen at “lower” temperatures. In 1932, George Gamow gave a lecture in Leningrad on the energy production in stars, which Nikolai Bukharin, a leading Soviet politician, attended. Bukharin was impressed by the presentation and in an ensuing conversation with Gamov, the idea of setting up a thermonuclear reaction under terrestrial conditions came up. Bukharin offered to put the electric power of the entire Moscow district at Gamow’s disposal for the experiment, but Gamow declined.
The concept of the thermonuclear bomb figured in a conversation between Enrico Fermi and Edward Teller at the early stage of the Manhattan Project, but its development was shelved as they concentrated on the atomic bomb during World War II. After the war, both the United States and the Soviet Union gradually embarked on efforts to produce thermonuclear bombs, whose power was orders of magnitude higher than that of the atomic bombs. Sakharov spent twenty years on developing and perfecting the Soviet hydrogen bomb.
In the thermonuclear bomb, the fusion reaction leads to explosion, which is the purpose in its military application; but an explosion would not be possible to utilize for peaceful energy production. Almost from the beginning of his involvement with the project, Sakharov was fascinated by the concept of controlled thermonuclear reactions, which would solve the world’s energy problems. He gained Tamm’s enthusiastic cooperation, and they together developed the idea of the magnetic thermonuclear reactor, or MTR.8 Eventually, this research was continued at the Leningrad Institute of Physics. It did not promise immediate practical application; hence, it was decided not to keep it classified. It made waves when in 1955, Kurchatov accompanied Nikita Khrushchev and Nikolai Bulganin on a state visit to Great Britain, and gave a public lecture on the topic. For decades, research on tokamak, the Russian name of the device, has been going on in many places.9 In 1952, in related studies, Sakharov suggested new experiments for the development of devices to utilize chemical explosions and nuclear explosions to produce extremely strong magnetic fields.10
Andrei Sakharov as freshman of Moscow State University.
Source: Courtesy of Alexander Vernyi and Lyubov Vernaya-Sakharova, Moscow.
Andrei Sakharov in 1953, following his election to the Soviet Academy of Sciences.
Source: Courtesy of Alexander Vernyi and Lyubov Vernaya-Sakharova, Moscow.
Schematic representation of a thermonuclear—or fusion—reaction: a deuterium nucleus (one proton plus one neutron) and a tritium nucleus (one proton plus two neutrons) are fused, yielding a helium nucleus (two protons plus two neutrons), a neutron, and energy.
Initially, the primary task for Tamm’s group was “to verify and refine the calculations produced by Yakov Zeldovich’s group” at the secret installation Arzamas-16.11 While Tamm’s group was operating at FIAN, Vitaly Ginzburg (see chapter 6) was also a member. When Tamm moved to Arzamas-16, Sakharov and another young physicist went with him, but not Ginzburg. The task was exciting physics, and it was even more enticing that it was deemed essential. Sakharov considered himself a soldier in working on this project, and the participants “were possessed by a true war psychology.”12 This was soon after the Great Patriotic War—the Russian name for the war against Nazi Germany—in which a foreign power tried to subjugate the proud Russian nation and the Soviet Union. Now the country was making extraordinary efforts and sacrifices to create the necessary defense against a yet-more-powerful adversary.
None of the Soviet scientists protested working on the hydrogen bomb. The situation was very different from that in the United States where there was a highly charged debate whether or not the United States should develop it. At the end of October 1949, the General Advisory Committee (GAC) of the Atomic Energy Commission concluded that the United States should not develop the hydrogen bomb. There were only nuanced differences: the majority opinion signed by J. Robert Oppenheimer and a number of other members stated that not developing such a bomb would be “a unique opportunity of providing by example some limitations on the totality of war.”13 The minority opinion by Enrico Fermi and Isidor Rabi, both Nobel laureates, considered it wrong on ethical principles to develop such weapons and suggested, instead, “to invite the nations of the world to join us in a solemn pledge not to proceed in the development or construction of weapons of this category” (italics added).14 The Soviet government did not seek the opinions of its scientists, and they did not volunteer their opinions, either. Making decisions was the prerogative of the leaders of the Soviet Union, ultimately, Stalin.
In the 1980s, in writing his Memoirs, Sakharov commented on the merits of Edward Teller’s stand in the American debate about the hydrogen bomb. Teller was not a member of the GAC, but he recognized the bomb’s potential and could not imagine that Stalin would be talked out of acquiring it. He understood that showing an example or making a solemn pledge made no difference. On the contrary, Stalin would have considered such behavior a weakness or deceit on the part of the Americans. Sakharov noted that “in the 1940s and 1950s my position was much closer to Teller’s, practically a mirror image (one had only to substitute ‘USSR’ for ‘USA,’ ‘peace and national security’ for ‘defense against the communist menace,’ etc.) … Unlike Teller, I did not have to go against the current in those years, nor was I threatened with ostracism by my colleagues.”15
There was an additional source of skepticism about the necessity of the hydrogen bomb in the United States; many in responsible positions did not believe that the Soviet scientists would be up to the task of creating it. Teller had a different opinion. He had met some of the Soviet physicists in Western Europe in the late 1920s and early 1930s and held them in the highest esteem. Besides, he understood the potential of a totalitarian regime to focus its resources on selected targets and reach them despite the generally poor conditions of its economy and infrastructure.16
The inclusion of Tamm’s group into the thermonuclear weapons project very soon brought great advancement. Three new concepts emerged in quick succession. Sakharov called them the “first,” “second,” and “third” ideas in his Memoirs, because he was careful not to give away classified information in his reminiscences. Today, we can identify them in that order as the so-called layered-cake design (sloika in Russian) of arranging the fission and fusion fuels; the application of the solid fuel lithium(6) deuteride (lidochka); and the radiation implosion approach. The first and third ideas originated from Sakharov; the second, from Ginzburg. Sakharov himself emphasized the collective nature of their work, that the third idea was not his alone; he was merely one of its chief authors.
In this connection, the question arises whether intelligence from the American program might have contributed to the development of the Soviet hydrogen bomb. The idea of radiation implosion—compression of the fusion fuel by radiation generated from an atomic bomb—already figured in the April 1946 meeting at Los Alamos about the thermonuclear bomb. Klaus Fuchs attended this meeting. He was one of the originators of the idea, together with John von Neumann, and he passed the information on to his Soviet contacts.17 This does not necessarily mean that the idea became part of the Soviet program—apparently it did not. On the American side, it did not either, and only in spring 1951 did the Teller-Ulam design based on radiation implosion come about.18 Stanislaw Ulam was a Polish-American mathematician who was involved in the feasibility studies of the hydrogen bomb at Los Alamos.
In the Soviet project, the third idea, radiation implosion, was (re)discovered in early 1954. It is remarkable how an idea can be around yet needs to be reinvented when all the conditions are ripe for its utilization. It is not rare in the history of scientific discoveries that an idea is suddenly found revolutionary even though it had been floating around without many experts recognizing its utility.19 This is why Teller (along with Ulam) and Sakharov (along with his colleagues) in their respective programs deserve much credit for hitting on the idea of radiation implosion, and doing so at the right moment. Nonetheless, it cannot be ruled out that both earlier and later intelligence played a role in the successful development of the Soviet hydrogen bomb.20 This may—or may not—be another reason why Sakharov always disclaimed being the sole author of the third idea.
Almost immediately after Sakharov had suggested the first idea, he was invited to join the Communist Party. He declined, expressing his disagreement with some of the party’s past actions. He felt apprehensive that becoming a party member would mean more rigorous subordination and the probability of an administrative position, which Sakharov did not want.
The first Soviet atomic device was tested successfully on August 29, 1949. The Soviets did not announce the test, even after it had been executed, but the Americans determined from their analysis of air samples that it had happened. The event shook the American experts and helped those in the United States who wanted to develop the hydrogen bomb. The successful test of the Soviet atomic bomb also gave a boost to Stalin’s determination to develop the hydrogen bomb.
The hydrogen bomb project meant a greater challenge than the atomic bomb for the Soviet scientists. First of all, there was no American blueprint to follow. There may have been some fruits of espionage, but they were certainly not on the scale of those for the atomic bomb. The Soviets’ ace in atomic bomb intelligence, Klaus Fuchs, was no longer a participant in the American project: he had returned to Britain and would soon be arrested for spying. The Americans themselves did not yet know how to produce the hydrogen bomb. For the time being, they were busy examining whether or not the so-called classical Super would work.
The growing importance of Sakharov’s role in the project was signified by his transfer to Arzamas-16 in 1950 and, further, by the assignment of bodyguards to him in 1954. He had this protection until 1957, but he was never comfortable with the arrangement. Sakharov remained at Arzamas-16 for eighteen years. He and his colleagues had to live within the confinement of the installation, bordered by barbed wire, with various restrictions. There was also a large labor camp, and the presence of the prisoners was a constant reminder of an alternative in case the scientists failed in their task. Sakharov never questioned the importance of or justification for the work he was doing.
There were changes in Sakharov’s family life. Soon after he had moved to Arzamas-16, his family followed him, and they lived at the installation for the next six years. From about 1956, they divided their time between Moscow and the installation, and the children went to school in both places. His children grew up; each of his two daughters married a physicist. The eldest, Tanya, gave birth to Sakharov’s first grandchild, Marina. Eventually, Tanya and Marina ended up living in London. Lyuba and her husband lived in Moscow.
From the time of Sakharov’s arrival at the installation, he continued his work in Tamm’s group. Tamm stayed at Arzamas-16 until August 1953, and left immediately after the first success of the hydrogen bomb project. Tamm impacted Sakharov’s interest in physics, but even more, his outlook on everything else. Tamm was a keen observer of the events around him and his consistent decency served as example for Sakharov. For example, Sakharov was in full agreement with Tamm, who declared in connection with anti-Semitism that there was “one foolproof way of telling if someone belongs to the Russian intelligentsia. A true Russian intelligent is never an anti-Semite. If he’s infected with that virus, then he’s something else, something terrible and dangerous.”21 In this quote, the word “intelligent” must have meant member of the intelligentsia. Tamm regularly listened to the BBC, both in Russian and in English, and told his young associates about the news at breakfast. Sakharov learned about important events in the world outside the Soviet Union from Tamm.
Yakov Zeldovich was another person who played a beneficial role in Sakharov’s life at the secret installation. Zeldovich had come to Arzamas-16 before the Tamm group and was the leading theoretician for the atomic bomb project. He had a keen interest in keeping up with the development of physics and was generous in sharing his knowledge with Sakharov. Zeldovich had a certain degree of social conscience and noticed when his colleagues needed assistance. He was not quite willing to expose himself in such situations, but instead urged Sakharov to get involved. He assessed that Sakharov’s word might carry more weight than his.
When there was a commission from Moscow investigating the scientists’ views in connection with the controversy between Lysenko and Mendelian genetics, Sakharov did not hide his acceptance of the Mendelian theory. The commission left him alone, but not everyone was treated with such leniency. Lev Altshuler, the head of one of the experimental groups was threatened with losing his job for his views. Zeldovich suggested that Sakharov turn to the director of the installation to protect Altshuler. Sakharov’s interference was successful, but in retrospect, he wondered why Zeldovich had prompted him to act rather than doing something himself. Then he realized that Zeldovich was in the precarious situation of being Altshuler’s friend, and both of them were Jewish. On the other hand, Zeldovich held a high and important position at Arzamas; yet he seemed to refrain from taking risks that might jeopardize his situation.22
Sakharov’s excellence as a researcher and his reserved demeanor made his judgment sought after beyond narrow scientific problems. He was often in the group of physicists who were invited for discussions with Lavrentii Beria, the supreme head of the nuclear project. These meetings had their special choreography; those who were summoned arrived in Moscow and had to wait for the actual appointment. The wait sometimes lasted a whole week—it was not a subtle expression of who was important and who was not. Then finally the group was collected and taken to the meeting with Beria.
On one occasion Beria received Sakharov alone. At the end of the encounter Beria invited Sakharov to pose a question. Sakharov was taken aback for a moment, but then blurted out what he had on his mind. He asked Beria, “Why do we always lag behind the USA and other countries, why are we losing the technology race?” Beria’s response was very general about the lack of research and development and of a broad manufacturing base. Beria must have realized that whereas the Soviet State had the capability to focus on and solve a selected problem even if it was a huge challenge, this capability was a limited one. On Sakharov’s part, it was a genuine question; at the time he did not realize that it reflected on the long-term endurance of the Soviet regime. Twenty years later, he would arrive at his own answer when he understood that “insufficiently democratic institutions and a lack of intellectual freedom and free exchange of information were to blame.”23
In 1953, when Stalin died, Sakharov commented to his wife: “I am under the influence of a great man’s death. I am thinking of his humanity.”24 He felt that he and Stalin toiled toward the same goal, making the country strong. At this time, Sakharov still considered the Soviet regime to be the way of the future that other countries would one day emulate. There were, however, eye-opening changes in Soviet society following Stalin’s death. One of them was the freeing of Jewish doctors, who had been accused of plans to assassinate Stalin and other Soviet leaders. Now the accusations were declared baseless, and the accusers were arrested.
Beria’s fall followed Stalin’s death by a few months, but preparations for the forthcoming test went ahead at full speed; it appeared that nothing was being overlooked. A new director who would replace Yulii Khariton, the scientific leader of Arzamas-16, was even designated in case of failure. The designated replacement was the mathematician academician Mikhail Lavrentiev. He traveled with the leading Arzamas-16 figures to the test site near Semipalatinsk in faraway Kazakhstan. As it happened, after the successful test, Lavrentiev returned to Moscow.
Not long before the target date for the test, it was discovered that the fallout problem had not been considered. Frenetic activities ensued in which the Soviet scientists thoroughly examined the American manual on the effects of nuclear explosion, the so-called Black Book.25 Finally, evacuation of the civilian population was hastily arranged from the regions that were deemed susceptible to fallout. In retrospect, the evacuation proved to be a prudent decision.
The tension among the creators of the hydrogen bomb and among all others involved in the test was mounting. It was further enhanced when one week before the test, Georgii Malenkov declared at the session of the Supreme Soviet that the Soviet Union possessed the hydrogen bomb. Malenkov was the chairman of the Council of Ministers, and to make this announcement prior to the test was uncharacteristic of the secretive Soviet leadership. It showed their eagerness to boast of this achievement, which would testify to their ability to carry on without Stalin and Beria.
The test took place on August 12, 1953. On its eve, Sakharov followed Zeldovich’s advice and took a sleeping pill to make sure that he would get a good night’s sleep and be in full command of his capacities on the great day. As soon as the blast happened, it was obvious that its power was unprecedented. The minister of Medium Machine Building (the nuclear authority by a camouflaged name), Vyacheslav Malyshev, told Sakharov about Malenkov’s congratulatory telephone call and kissed the physicist. Clearly, Sakharov was the hero of the day. Malyshev and Sakharov immediately walked over ground zero. This may have been too hasty an action. Many years later, Sakharov suspected that this experience may have been the cause of health problems for Malyshev and himself.
Soviet nuclear history counts the August 12, 1953, test as the first deliverable hydrogen bomb not just in the Soviet Union but worldwide. No doubt, it was deliverable; it was dropped from an airplane. But it is questionable whether it was a genuine hydrogen bomb. It used a mixture of fission fuel, uranium-235, and fusion fuel, lithium(6) deuteride. Its yield was about 400 kiloton (0.4 megaton) TNT-equivalent, very low as far as hydrogen bombs go. The American nondeliverable thermonuclear device of enormous weight and size, “Mike,” had been tested on November 1, 1952. Its yield was 10,400 kiloton (10.4 megaton) TNT-equivalent. The ultimate hydrogen bomb in the Soviet program, incorporating the third idea, the radiation implosion approach, would be tested only in 1955.
Following the successful test of August 12, 1953, Sakharov and his colleagues were taken on special trips and visits. He was especially impressed by the ballistic missile plant, an operation on an even larger scale than Arzamas-16. Sergei Korolev was the chief constructor of missiles, and his name was as classified as the names of the creators of the nuclear weapons. Hardly anybody knew anything about Korolev’s past. He was arrested in the 1930s, and it was by chance that the aircraft designer Andrei Tupolev, who was also incarcerated, saved him and involved him in building his aircrafts. At the time they both worked in a so-called sharashka—a labor camp where the prisoners were highly skilled scientists and engineers. Following their first encounter, Sakharov and Korolev developed a good relationship; their activities overlapped in that Korolev’s missiles were to deliver Sakharov’s warheads.
Sakharov was promoted to Tamm’s position as head of their theory group at Arzamas-16 when in 1953 Tamm left the installation and returned to Moscow. Sakharov was still very young, and he still had the lowest scientific degree, Candidate of Science (PhD equivalent). However, he was so much favored by the Soviet leadership that they talked about promoting him to membership of the Science Academy. He did not yet have the prerequisite Doctor of Science degree. Only a Doctor of Science may be elected to corresponding member and a corresponding member may then be elected to full member, the pinnacle for a Soviet scientist (as it is for a Russian scientist today). Before the October 1953 elections to the Academy of Sciences, the last elections had been held in 1946, so there was a heightened level of excitement during the preparations for the coming elections. The timing of the test of the hydrogen bomb was most fortunate for the nuclear scientists expecting promotion.
Even before the test, Kurchatov had already announced his plans to nominate Sakharov for corresponding member. For this, Sakharov had to obtain the Doctor of Science degree, which was hastily arranged. Arzamas-16 had such a rich population of high-level scientists that it had the right and the proper organizational structure to approve scientific degrees, although it could not confer them. This was the prerogative of the State Commission of Accreditation, but in such cases it was a mere formality. Once Sakharov had received this promotion, Kurchatov changed his mind and declared that Sakharov should be elected full member of the Academy at once. Not only was his nomination approved by the division of physicists and mathematicians, the vote was unanimous. Then, on October 23, 1953, Sakharov was elected academician—that is, full member—by the General Assembly of the Academy. He was thirty-two years old at the time of his election, and he had moved from Candidate of Science to academician virtually overnight.
Of the other heroes in this book, Tamm was elected full member on this occasion; he was fifty-eight years old; and Yulii Khariton, the scientific head of Arzamas-16, was also elected full member at this time; at forty-nine-years of age. Both had been corresponding members of the Academy for years. The thirty-nine-year-old corresponding member Zeldovich had been nominated, but not elected to full membership; this was embarrassing, not the least for Sakharov. Both Tamm and Sakharov received their first Hero of Socialist Labor distinction, while Khariton, Zeldovich, and a few others received it for the second time. Sakharov was among those who were awarded the Stalin prize with its huge monetary reward and an expensive dacha in Zhukovka, a Moscow suburb.
In the meantime, the Soviets decided to launch a second weapons laboratory, which became known as Chelyabinsk-70. It came about amid discussions of issues similar to those in the United States when the question of organizing the Livermore laboratory in addition to Los Alamos arose. Those who favored the establishment of a second installation cited the benefits of competition; opponents were afraid that a second installation might have a negative influence on the strong concentration of high level scientific personnel of the first one. Comparison of the two eventually showed a marked difference. Arzamas-16 had a large number of Jewish scientists in leadership positions; Chelyabinsk had hardly any. Sakharov writes that although he was not Jewish; he was usually counted together with the Jewish lot. Some officials in the Ministry of Medium Machine Building referred to Chelyabinsk-70 as “Egypt” and to the dining room of Arzamas-16 as “the Synagogue.”26
Andrei Sakharov and Igor Kurchatov in 1958 at the Atomic Energy Institute in Moscow.
Source: Courtesy of Alexander Vernyi and Lyubov Vernaya-Sakharova, Moscow.
The next step in the quest for the hydrogen bomb was the application of radiation implosion for compressing the thermonuclear fuel, which was tested on November 22, 1955. The test was successful, but was accompanied by personal tragedies. A little girl died in a bunker where her mother had placed her for safety. The bunker collapsed under the impact of the shock wave generated by the explosion. A young soldier died in the trenches where his platoon was supposed to be sheltered. There were also other injuries. Sakharov had mixed feelings: “We were stirred up, but not just with the exhilaration that comes with the job well done. For my part, I experienced a range of contradictory sentiments, perhaps chief among them a fear that this newly released force could slip out of control and lead to unimaginable disasters.”27 Marshal Mitrofan Nedelin, who represented the Soviet leadership at the test, invited senior personnel from all the organizations involved with the project for a celebration. He asked Sakharov to make the first toast on this occasion. The toast and the marshal’s response have become a memorable exchange.
Sakharov was no orator, but he wanted to say something more than the usual banalities. He expressed his desire in the following way: “May our devices explode as successfully as today’s but always over test sites and never over cities.”28 To me, this should have been considered nothing more than an expression of peaceful desire by a scientist. Apparently, to those present, it meant something more. Sakharov noted that there followed a silence as if he “had said something indecent.” To Nedelin, the statement must have appeared out of the ordinary because he felt compelled to tell his audience a lewd parable whose message was to leave politics to the politicians: “An old man wearing only a shirt was praying before an icon. ‘Guide me, harden me. Guide me, harden me.’ His wife, who was lying on the stove, said: ‘Just pray to be hard, old man; I can guide it in myself.’ Let’s drink to getting hard.”29
The marshal’s rude response brought home how Sakharov’s words had been interpreted. Even if Sakharov’s words could have been dismissed as an expression of pacifist sentiment, the response put him in his place. It was a humiliating experience for the scientist-hero in front of a large and sensitive audience. Sakharov understood where his place was; or, rather, where people like Nedelin thought the scientists’ place was. They were expected to make discoveries and produce bombs, but there should not even be a pretense that they might have a word in decision making, not even at the level of expressing desires. Sakharov learned a life lesson. A few years later he got a second one from a higher authority, and yet more explicit.
In July 1961, Nikita Khrushchev convened a meeting of political leaders and the atomic scientists. By then, in addition to his preeminent party position, he was also Chairman of the Council of Ministers; thus he was, in one person, the supreme authority of the country. This gathering took place just a few months before the test of the so-called Czar Bomb on October 31, 1961, the largest nuclear blast in the world.
Soviet nuclear might was at its peak, and Khrushchev was taking advantage of its potential. There was international tension and the Soviet Union was to announce the end of a moratorium on testing. Just a few weeks before this meeting, Khrushchev had met with the new American president, John F. Kennedy. The Berlin wall had just gone up. Khrushchev was eager to let the scientists demonstrate their support and preparedness for strengthening their Soviet fatherland. He opened the meeting, and then leading representatives of those present talked about their work. The decision to resume testing was political; the scientists were not invited to discuss the decision.
When it was Sakharov’s turn, in addition to reporting about the work, he voiced his opinion that he did not expect much benefit from the resumption of testing. However, he did not feel quite satisfied that his message got across and after the speech wrote a note for Khrushchev in which he warned that the new tests would jeopardize the test-ban negotiations and disarmament. Khrushchev received the note, read it, and pocketed it. When all the speeches were over, he invited the participants for dinner, following a break. I mention this because even if Sakharov’s note had upset Khrushchev, he had time to cool down; but this was not the case.
When the gathering reconvened, Khrushchev started with a speech before any food had been served. First, he raised his glass but then lowered it back to the table, signaling that this was not going to be a toast. The tension in the hall was mounting. Khrushchev devoted his entire speech to Sakharov’s note, which he did not read to his audience. Among other things, he said that30
[Sakharov] has moved beyond science into politics. Here he is poking his nose where it does not belong. You can be a good scientist without understanding a thing about politics. Politics is like the old joke about the two Jews traveling on a train. One asks the other: “So, where are you going?” “I am going to Zhitomir.” “What a sly fox,” thinks the first Jew. “I know he’s really going to Zhitomir, but he told me Zhitomir so I’ll think he is going to Zhmerinka.”
Leave politics to us—we’re the specialists. You make your bombs and test them. And we won’t interfere with you; we’ll help you. But remember, we have to conduct our policies from a position of strength. We don’t advertise it, but that’s how it is! There can’t be any other policy. Our opponents don’t understand any other language…. Sakharov, don’t try to tell us what to do or how to behave. We understand politics. I’d be a jellyfish and not Chairman of the Council of Ministers if I listened to people like Sakharov!
There were about sixty guests present that evening, and none looked in Sakharov’s direction. Only one of the sixty, one of his physicist colleagues, Yurii Zysin, came over when the meeting ended and told Sakharov that he supported his position. Khrushchev was not the first and would not be the last to warn the physicist not to meddle in politics. In February 1987, when Sakharov was back in Moscow following a seven-year exile in Gorky, he participated in the Forum in Moscow for a Nuclear-Free World and the Survival of Mankind. When he criticized the policies of Gorbachev’s government, Evgenii Velikhov, Vice President of the Science Academy, countered by saying that “scientists should not interfere in politics.”31
In 1987, Sakharov simply ignored Velikhov’s remark; but in 1961, Sakharov’s humiliation by Khrushchev was complete, and so was his alienation. Nonetheless, he continued working at Arzamas-16 for years and left the project only in 1968. Sakharov was not the type whose emotions determined his actions. His humiliation was of secondary importance; the primary importance was that he found additional testing unnecessary and harmful. He had come to this conclusion as a result of research, which was characteristic of his approach to crucial concepts.
He had started worrying about the biological consequences of testing as early as the mid-1950s. When he expressed his reservations about testing, a high-level official, Nikolai Pavlov, told him, “If our work and our testing are giving us strength for that battle [against the forces of imperialism]—and they certainly are—then the victims of that testing, or any other victims, don’t matter.”32 Pavlov was competent and well informed; he respected Sakharov and called him “our gold reserve.”33 His reckless evaluation of the collateral damage from testing did not differ much from Edward Teller, who from the late 1950s did everything he could to prevent cessation of testing.34 Teller knew that fallout affected reproductive cells, leading to mutations and abnormalities in future generations. He posed and answered the question: “Are abnormalities harmful? Because abnormalities deviate from the norm, they may be offensive at first sight. But without such abnormal births and such mutations, the human race would not have evolved and we would not be here. Deploring the mutations that may be caused by fallout is something like adopting the policies of the Daughters of the American Revolution, who approve of a past revolution but condemn future reforms.”35
In his youth, Sakharov was interested in genetics, and this interest was rekindled by the fact that the long-term biological consequences of nuclear explosions are nonthreshold events. Nonthreshold events are those for which there is no minimum amount of radioactivity below which no damage might be possible—any small amount might induce damaging genetic changes. Sakharov felt increasing responsibility to learn more about the biological effects of the tests and to disseminate this knowledge. His curiosity encouraged him to go in this direction. An added reason for his inquiry was the deplorable state of biology in the Soviet Union. The biologists were under the tight grip of Trofim Lysenko, and any unbiased investigation of heredity was considered heresy. Only the physicists were in the position to carry out investigations without interference.
Fortunately, Sakharov was not alone in this undertaking. Tamm had also been worried about the state of biology in the Soviet Union and had helped Sakharov to become versed in its problems. Kurchatov, being the director of a big institute concerned with nuclear energy and a powerful science administrator himself, also decided to take action. He created a section in his institute for biologists who had lost hope for employment in bona fide biological research institutes. The possible biological effects of nuclear events, such as testing, provided a legitimate justification for such research in a nuclear physics institute.
The physicists were counting on the assistance of the president of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, Aleksandr Nesmeyanov, who was rather hesitant but at least did not oppose taking steps meant to salvage biology. In time, he himself facilitated some measures in this direction (see chapter 12). The main culprit in allowing Lysenko to continue to reign a decade after Stalin’s death was Khrushchev. Lysenko succeeded in convincing the new Soviet leader that his approach, and only his approach, to agriculture could save it. Lysenko denied that genetics was a science, while, ironically, he was the director of the Institute of Genetics. He believed that acquired traits were hereditary; and he fought his opponents with the harshest means. Sakharov’s study eventually wandered into an area of science that had long been taboo in the Soviet Union. He stated that “the simplest non-threshold effect is the influence on heredity…. A single ionization event is sufficient to cause irreversible change—a mutation—in a gene.” The struggle against Lysenkoism is a separate and important chapter in the history of science in the Soviet Union; however, our interest here is limited to Sakharov’s contribution to uncovering the biological consequences of nuclear testing.
Sakharov started seriously dealing with this issue at the time when in the United States the idea of the so-called clean bomb was advanced by some scientists and welcomed by the government. The suggestion was that a clean hydrogen bomb would cause no radioactive contamination of the environment. While it was true that such contamination could be reduced, it was impossible to eliminate it completely because the trigger of the hydrogen bomb was a fission bomb and the thermonuclear explosion itself also added to the radioactive contamination. About one-third of the damage originated from the production of strontium-90 and cesium-137 isotopes during the explosions, and they had immediate harmful effects. About two-thirds of new cancer cases or genetic disorders arose from carbon-14. The neutrons, freed as a consequence of thermonuclear explosion, interact with the nitrogen in the atmosphere, and such interactions produce carbon-14 isotopes of carbon. It is a long-lasting radioactive isotope with a half-life of five thousand years and would harm living organisms, including humans, for thousands of years. The production of carbon-14 accompanies all thermonuclear explosions whether or not they come from “clean” bombs. Sakharov’s overall estimate was that for every one-megaton-TNT-equivalent detonation of nuclear bombs there would be ten thousand human victims.36
The relationship he established between the amount of testing and the anticipated number of victims was frightening. By 1957, nearly fifty-megaton (fifty-thousand kiloton) TNT-equivalent explosions had taken place. Sakharov estimated that such events would eventually result in a half million victims. For the time being, Sakharov’s working on the problem of the hazards of the clean bomb seemed to serve Khrushchev’s political aims, because it discredited American claims about the “humane” character of the clean bomb. Khrushchev’s government had just declared a moratorium on testing, and all the blame could be shifted to the Americans. When Sakharov communicated his estimates, he indicated a lower limit and a higher limit, the way scientists usually provide estimates. To strengthen Sakharov’s points, the Soviet editors—and his paper appeared in various versions and in various venues—deleted the lower limits in Sakharov’s estimates, and quoted only his upper limits. This made his numbers appear yet more frightening than he had intended, and reduced their credibility before expert readers. Khrushchev’s involvement went beyond just sanctioning the publication of Sakharov’s data; he introduced editorial changes in the articles. Khrushchev did not discuss the changes with Sakharov; it was Kurchatov rather than Sakharov who discussed Sakharov’s manuscripts with the Soviet leader.
During the late 1950s, the battle of testing and moratoriums continued. Sakharov found it unacceptable that Khrushchev was using the testing of nuclear weapons to further his political goals, ignoring the opinions of the scientists. The largest-ever nuclear bomb was detonated on October 30, 1961, on the Novaya Zemlya Archipelago. It was a fifty-megaton explosion, but the bomb could easily have been enhanced to be a 100-megaton version. This giant bomb was called alternatively the “Czar Bomb” or the “Big Bomb.” The test was timed to coincide with the Twenty-Second Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. It was the surest sign of Khrushchev’s megalomania. It had no strategic significance; and no such bomb has been detonated since.
By the time of the Big Bomb, Sakharov had already drifted away from the official Soviet aims, and he was appalled that the health hazards had no restraining effect on the Soviet leadership. Seen in this light, it is most puzzling that Sakharov at about this time came up with a proposal for the efficient deployment of the Big Bomb in its 100-megaton version. Also, he used the plural “100-megaton charges” rather than singular “charge.” In his words37:
After the test of the Big Bomb, I was concerned that the military couldn’t use it without an effective carrier (a bomber would be too easy to shoot down). I dreamed up the idea of a giant torpedo, launched from a submarine and fitted with an atomic-powered jet engine that would convert water to steam. The targets would be enemy ports several hundred miles away. Naval experts assured us that the war at sea would be won if we could destroy the enemy’s harbors. The torpedoes’ bodies would be made sturdy enough to withstand exploding mines and to pierce anti-torpedo nets. When they reached their targets, the 100-megaton charges would explode both underwater and in the air, causing heavy casualties.
When Sakharov discussed his proposal with the high-ranking naval officer P. F. Fomin, the admiral, according to Sakharov, “was shocked and disgusted by the idea of merciless mass slaughter.”38 This was the darkest point in Sakharov’s career, and had it not been described in his own Memoirs, it might be hard to believe the authenticity of the story. Yet there were other projects in which Sakharov anticipated military orders before they materialized. His overzealous behavior can only be explained by his getting blinded by the almost limitless possibilities of using physics for destruction. Yet these works and ideas happened at the time when he was already getting disillusioned with the arms race and was increasingly opposing the tests. But in spite of his clashes with Khrushchev, outwardly everything continued as business as usual, and for the successes of 1961, in spring 1962, he received his third Hero of Socialist Labor star along with other distinctions. Khrushchev may have humiliated the physicist, but he recognized the value of his contribution.
Sakharov’s award and his description of his activities suggest consistency, but there are those who believe that this is too simplistic a perception of what Sakharov represented at that time. His suggestion to the Soviet Navy described above tormented him by the time he was writing his Memoirs during his exile in Gorky. His physicist son-in-law, Alexander Vernyi, however, questions the sincerity of the admiral’s reaction to Sakharov’s proposal. Admiral Fomin was not merely a naval officer; he was also a ministry official at the time, actively engaged in the application of nuclear weaponry for the Soviet Navy. This included the possibility of inducing a gigantic tsunami by underwater nuclear explosion. According to Vernyi, an admiral feeling shame for what he is engaged in would represent a drama of Shakespearian proportions. It is more realistic to group Admiral Fomin together with Marshal Nedelin than with a tragic Shakespearean hero.39 One of Sakharov’s biographers, Gennady Gorelik, simply states, “Sakharov’s tale tells us more about his conscience than about historical reality.”40 We may also suppose that even an admiral’s insincerity must have a reason. Could it be that Fomin camouflaged the Navy’s engagement in the creation of tsunamis even before the most distinguished Soviet physicist, whose explosives were to be used to execute the plans?
The negotiations for a test ban led to a resounding success when on August 5, 1963, an agreement was signed in Moscow, to take effect on October 10 of that same year, forbidding tests in the atmosphere, in outer space, and underwater. Sakharov was among those who felt the satisfaction of having contributed to this most important step to limit biological damage in future generations. At this time Sakharov was already thinking of his life after nuclear weapons; he started contemplating his return to basic science but stayed for five more years at the installation. At the same time he was more actively participating in the elections to the Science Academy. and contributed to the defeat of a Lysenko protégé in the 1964 elections.
Zeldovich played an important role in Sakharov’s return to basic science. Zeldovich never completely tore himself away from science, and tried to stay informed about major developments, especially in cosmology and astrophysics. Zeldovich and Sakharov were two very different individuals, but the differences in their lifestyles did not hinder their splendid symbiosis in discussing science. When in 1950 Tamm and his young associates appeared at Arzamas-16, forming a second theory group where Zeldovich and his group had been alone, friction, or at least some rivalry, might have developed between them. Instead, truly creative interaction ensued between the two groups and the amicable and fruitful cooperation between Zeldovich and Sakharov was its most conspicuous manifestation. Zeldovich benefited from having such a genius partner as Sakharov for discussions, and for Sakharov, Zeldovich was his window to basic physics during the years when Sakharov immersed himself in the development of the hydrogen bomb. This is not to say that Sakharov did not do any fundamental physics during his immersion in weapons work. We have already mentioned his work in the early 1950s on controlled thermonuclear reactions. There were further problems to be solved related to the physics under extreme conditions, and there he found sufficient challenges. In the 1960s, he was captivated by the magnificence of unsolved problems in cosmology. In 1964 he produced his first paper about the puzzles of the expanding universe.
One of his best-known works, from the mid-1960s, was related to the evolution of the universe. It is usually referred to as “baryogenesis”—the origin of baryon asymmetry of the universe, or BAU. Baryons are protons and neutrons, and they make up most of the mass of the universe. The issue of BAU deals with the fundamental question of why our world is made of matter and not antimatter, or why is there matter at all in the universe? When the Big Bang happened and the universe was formed, it was extremely hot, representing enormous energy, and it produced both particles and antiparticles. With gradually decreasing temperature, the particles and antiparticles annihilated each other in pairs. Had they been around in equal numbers, the universe would have become empty. It turns out that there must have been some excess of matter over antimatter, even if a very tiny excess, in the early universe—this is “baryon asymmetry”—and from this, it followed that the universe now consists of matter. The big question is, why was there an excess of matter over antimatter? Physicists have been looking for an answer, and Sakharov facilitated these attempts. He did not provide the answer, but in 1967, he set up three conditions that must be fulfilled by any explanation of baryon asymmetry.
The first condition is that processes must exist that are able to change the baryon number. The second is that there must be a bias in the laws of nature favoring matter over antimatter. The third is that the processes that can change the baryon number must happen in a state not characterized by thermal equilibrium. This latter condition seems difficult to grasp at first, but it seems quite natural if we take into account that from the moment of the Big Bang the universe has existed in the state of thermal transition—continuous cooling. The concept of BAU is a most attractive manifestation of the union of the physics of fundamental particles and cosmology. Sakharov’s contribution to the investigation of BAU played a role in the emergence of cosmomicrophysics.41 The quest to understand BAU has continued.
During Sakharov’s last years at the installation, the most intriguing task he was engaged in was the investigation of the antiballistic missile (ABM) systems. He summarized his views on the ABM systems as follows: (1) a foolproof ABM defense was not possible; it was very expensive, and it could be neutralized at much lower expenditures; and (2) the deployment of an ABM system would be a destabilizing factor because it would upset the strategic balance between the two superpowers.42 The arms race would continue, but at a higher cost and sophistication. This study was Sakharov’s last significant contribution to the work at Arzamas-16. As both superpowers realized these problems, the result was the 1972 Treaty on the Limitation of Antiballistic Missile Systems. By this time, however, Sakharov had already been dismissed from Arzamas-16.
When Sakharov returned to Moscow, he was already immersed in what is usually referred to as the “dissident movement.” Even prior to his dismissal, steps were taken to punish him, such as when he was removed from his position as department head and his salary was reduced. This was not the first and would not be the last decrease in his earnings, but Sakharov lived frugally and spent much less than he earned. His family did not spend much money either, and he had a considerable bank account. No such governmental action would stop Sakharov from his political activities.
Sakharov’s involvement in social questions started with his taking stands on general political issues. For example, he signed a collective letter in opposition to any attempt to rehabilitate Stalin (meaning “exonerate,” but the Russian language uses the word “rehabilitate”). He joined the signatories of a protest against a change in the criminal code that was meant to make it easier to prosecute dissidents, and prosecute them severely. He participated in a silent demonstration of protest on December 5, 1967, the Day of the Soviet Constitution. So far, these were general actions, but soon he became involved in interventions on behalf of individuals. He was interested in a wide variety of issues wherever he found injustice. He became dedicated to the efforts to save Lake Baikal from pollution. He was a great asset for every movement he decided to join. He never wanted to take over the leadership of any movement, and he never wanted to impose his views. He had excellent connections; at this time he could still contact even the leaders of the country. Sakharov was a unique phenomenon; a conspicuous member of the Soviet Establishment; one who did not care about his perks but whose status as an academician, past role in creating Soviet military might, and three Hero of Socialist Labor stars radiated authority and induced respect.
In 1968, Sakharov published his essay “Reflections on Progress, Peaceful Coexistence, and Intellectual Freedom.” He warned the human race of the dangers of “thermonuclear extinction, ecological catastrophe, famine, and uncontrolled population explosion, alienation, and dogmatic distortion of our conception of reality.”43 He argued for convergence between the socialist and capitalist systems at all possible levels: economic, social, and ideological. His arguments were benevolently naïve, but the world appeared hungry for such an approach. In the first two years of its publication, almost twenty million copies of the essay were printed. To characterize its popularity, one of the best-known Soviet dissidents called it “handy as a spoon at dinnertime.”44 Sakharov survived the publication of the essay unscathed, but the authorities persecuted those who helped to disseminate it. Its appearance tragically coincided with the Prague Spring and its ruthless suppression. Sakharov had become one of the best-known Soviet dissidents. It was inevitable that his path would cross with that of another great dissident, the famous writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn. In 1970, Solzhenitsyn was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature and was exiled from the Soviet Union. His nationalistic and religious views were in conflict with Sakharov’s liberalism, but the two had mutual respect for each other.
Sakharov’s first wife, Klava, gave him much freedom and never complained about his political activities. She did not even voice apprehension over activities that must have seemed to put their very comfortable life at risk. She became ill, and when she was properly examined the diagnosis was incurable cancer. She died in early 1969, and her ashes were buried at the Vostryakovsky Cemetery in Moscow. Apparently, Sakharov made no attempt to secure a plot at Novodevichy Cemetery to which he undoubtedly would have been entitled.
Upon his departure from Arzamas-16, Sakharov was transferred back to FIAN in Moscow as a senior scientist in Tamm’s department, continuing where he had started twenty years before. When Sakharov was departing from Arzamas-16, he closed out his bank account and gave away his substantial savings to the Red Cross and other organizations. The next decade was a story of courage and dedication. Sakharov did not have to be talked into waging protests; he was on the lookout for causes, participated in setting up watchdog organizations for human rights abuses, and fought against the use of psychiatric incarceration. The inhuman nature of the Soviet regime appeared before him in its naked reality. He attended trials, fought for religious freedom and against anti-Semitic discrimination, and for the right to emigrate. The number of causes he took up was limitless.
In 1970, Sakharov met Elena (Lusia) Bonner, his future second wife and future partner in his heightened human rights activities. Bonner’s mother came from a Siberian Jewish family, and her father was an Armenian communist leader, Gevork Alikhanov, who perished during Stalin’s 1937 campaign of terror. Elena Bonner was a war hero in the medical service; later she trained as a pediatrician. She was a highly cultured woman and had been a fearless human rights activist long before she met Sakharov. She and Sakharov married in 1972. There are those who ascribe Bonner’s damaging influence over Sakharov, as if she had radicalized him and sacrificed him for purposes of her family, for example, to secure permissions for some family members to emigrate, rather than only for universal human rights. However, Sakharov’s Memoirs reveal unambiguously that he received enormous strength and purpose from his association with Bonner.
When Sakharov was awarded the Nobel Peace Prize in 1975, and was not allowed to travel to Oslo to accept it in person, Bonner substituted for him. There was a spontaneous torchlight demonstration in Oslo on the evening of the Nobel Prize Award Ceremony. I happened to be visiting at Oslo University. The demonstration impressed me. It was very different from the May 1 demonstrations in Hungary in which I had taken part, which were never spontaneous, and in which participation was never voluntary.
During the days of the Nobel festivities Sakharov was in Vilnius, Lithuania, to attend the trial of one of his closest friends, another human rights activist. Alas, Sakharov was not allowed to enter the courtroom. In Oslo, his acceptance speech and his lecture were both read by Bonner. It was particularly moving when Sakharov’s Nobel lecture mentioned by name many human rights activists who were in jail. He asked the participants of the ceremony to consider these activists as his personal official guests at the ceremony.
The way the Soviet leadership reacted to Sakharov’s actions multiplied their impact. They fought against Sakharov with ferocity, but without much success. They tried everything they could to silence Sakharov, but the effect was often the opposite. One of their most despicable acts was organizing a letter by Sakharov’s fellow academicians criticizing his activities. Forty academicians signed the letter. There were various stories about how the signatures had been collected. Kapitza declined to sign it. Zeldovich was not asked or could not be located. When Anatoly Aleksandrov, a future president of the Academy was called, his wife answered the phone and told the caller that her husband was drunk and could not come to the phone.45 The letter was part of a big media campaign against Sakharov in which the most diverse segments of the population represented themselves with published letters condemning Sakharov’s activities.
The most powerful means of protest for Sakharov was a hunger strike, and he exercised it for the first time in June 1974. He wanted to turn attention to the plight of political prisoners and timed his action to coincide with President Nixon’s visit to Moscow. He continued his research in physics, but he could devote only a limited amount of time to it in view of all his other activities and the emotional toll they took. He met with world-renowned physicists when they visited Moscow, such as Wolfgang Panofsky, Sidney Drell, and Victor Weisskopf. During the 1970s, the Sakharovs had a rough life, but he brought a lot of attention to the human rights movements due to his fame. There is no doubt about his personal courage, but there were some privileges that his position and his awards ensured that distinguished him from his comrades in these movements. Among his perks, for example, was that he could at any time order a car with a driver from the car pool of the Science Academy to take him and his wife wherever he wanted to go. He did not experience financial hardship due to his considerable allotment as a full member of the Academy in addition to his salary at FIAN.
In January 1980, it was announced that the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet decided to strip Sakharov of his state awards. Although Sakharov refused to hand over his stars and ribbons, officially he was no longer accorded the privileges of (three-time) Hero of Socialist Labor. This did not change much in Sakharov’s appearance because he never wore his distinctions on his jacket anyway, but it was a warning sign on the part of the authorities that they were ready to take harsher steps against him. The next one would be more extreme.
Sakharov’s actions were damaging for the Soviet leadership, because he showed the real nature of the Soviet regime. When he criticized the Soviet intervention in Afghanistan, this was yet another critical point that Soviet officialdom found hard to tolerate. The Supreme Soviet banished Sakharov from Moscow to a place where he would not be able to maintain contact with foreigners. Gorky (today, as in the past, Nizhnii Novgorod) was such a city, and he was exiled there. Sakharov never received official notification about this decision as he had about the revoking of his awards. He spent the next seven years in Gorky, and Bonner went with him voluntarily.
It was a most trying time. The authorities did not spare themselves in coming up with new ways of making the Sakharovs’ life unbearable. It seemed that a whole army of secret police was assigned to the case. Sakharov spent a lot of time writing his memoirs, and his manuscripts were repeatedly stolen from him. He demonstrated exceptional willpower in that he never gave up and started anew when necessary. As a result, he had a complete manuscript to publish when his exile was over. There was one step that the authorities did not dare take; they did not make the Science Academy exclude Sakharov from its membership. Moreover, Sakharov remained a member of the Igor E. Tamm Department of Theoretical Physics of FIAN (as it became to be called following Tamm’s death) for the entire duration of his exile.
It was a delicate relationship. After Tamm’s death in 1971, Vitaly Ginzburg became the head of the department. Ginzburg and Sakharov had worked out a tacit agreement about their relationship when Sakharov’s human rights activities and his troubles with the authorities began.46 Accordingly, Sakharov would not try to involve his colleagues at the department in his various protests, would not invite them to demonstrate or urge them to sign documents of protest. In turn, the members of the department would stay loyal to Sakharov, would help him in his scientific endeavors, and—as his exile would make necessary—would not abandon him in even greater troubles. Sakharov kept his word and adhered to these guidelines, which were never spelled out, and Ginzburg and most of the members of the department never signed any protest against Sakharov’s activities. A rare exception happened when a junior associate in the Tamm department was threatened by the institute management who told him that if he did not sign the letter, which was just being circulated, they would not allow him to defend his dissertation. Other junior members in other departments of FIAN were easier targets for blackmail. If they denied signing an anti-Sakharov letter, they were fired. Boris Zeldovich (Yakov Zeldovich’s son) was at the time a junior member of FIAN; he refused to sign and was a rare exception in not getting fired; supposedly, his name protected him.47
His colleagues in the department visited Sakharov in exile annually, sometimes more frequently—Ginzburg visited him twice—to help him stay informed about developments in physics. Sakharov’s dedication to science was evident in that he did not stop doing research under the harsh conditions of his life in Gorky. He worked on the cosmological theories of the pulsating universe. He described the fluctuations of vacuum in the first moments of the birth of the universe, called “Sakharov oscillations.” His papers appeared in the early 1980s in the Soviet scientific literature. Sakharov never lost his interest in and dedication to science, but the world around him forced him onto a route where science had to take a secondary role.
Andrei Sakharov with granddaughter Marina (daughter of Tatyana Sakharova and Mikhail Liberman) in 1983 during his exile in Gorky.
Source: Courtesy of Mikhail Liberman, Uppsala, Sweden.
Sakharov’s ordeal in Gorky continued for seven long years, and it did not become any easier with time. The KGB devoted limitless resources to irritating him, and did everything possible to minimize his outside contacts. They spied on him all the time and listened to his conversations. Sakharov was aware that his apartment was being tapped. This notion gave rise to a story about Sakharov and a visiting colleague who were about to discuss a physics problem that included classified information. Both Sakharov and his visitor possessed the necessary security clearance. Yet Sakharov suddenly stopped the conversation, saying that the KGB officers listening in might not possess the necessary security clearance. Nobody hearing the story could be sure whether he was being serious or sarcastic, probably both.48
There is no doubt that Sakharov had rigorously observed the secrecy of the Soviet weapons program, and had vowed to adhere to it to the end. And he never hesitated in his belief that the development of the Soviet nuclear weapons was necessary to maintaining peace in a world in which two superpowers were facing each other. This was part of his comprehensive approach to the global political situation.49 He recognized the need for deterrence, for which parity in nuclear weaponry was a precondition, and he believed in the benefits of negotiations based on trust stemming from cooperation and openness. The contribution by Sakharov and the other Soviet scientists to deterrence and parity can be appreciated in light of the fact that the world lived for decades without direct war between the two superpowers. This was achieved by both sides possessing the most terrible bombs imaginable.
During his Gorky exile, Sakharov had to resort to hunger strikes on several occasions when this seemed to him the only remaining way to wage a protest. They posed considerable hazards to Sakharov’s health, but there was no sign that he ever had second thoughts about the course he had taken. The Soviet regime did not seem to budge, nor was there any change in the approach of the Soviet leaders toward him in particular and toward human rights in general. Leonid Brezhnev was followed by Yurii Andropov, and Andropov by Konstantin Chernenko; but they did not differ in policy.
Against this background of changing Soviet leaders, Sakharov stayed in place. The war in Afghanistan continued raging. Sakharov continued protesting that, too. It was during the initial stages of this war that the 1980 Moscow Olympics were boycotted by many democratic countries as a protest against the Soviet war in Afghanistan. The boycott generated a lot of criticism, citing its ineffectiveness in changing Soviet policy. From where I was observing these events—in Eastern Europe—there could have not been a more efficient way of hurting the Soviets than this boycott. At that point, hardly anything could have impacted Soviet foreign policy, but the boycott made the Moscow Olympics incomplete and thus accomplished something unique: it hurt Soviet pride.
Sakharov never for a moment gave up his struggle. Fortunately, the world did not forget him either. He kept writing, and in spite of all the overt and covert police actions against him, his words continued reaching his audience. In April 1983, he was awarded the Leo Szilard Lectureship Award administered by the American Physical Society. Its purpose is “to recognize outstanding accomplishments by physicists in promoting the use of physics for the benefit of society in such areas as the environment, arms control, and science policy. The lecture format is intended to increase the visibility of those who have promoted the use of physics for the benefit of society.”50 Sakharov’s talk was smuggled out to America; in it he spoke about international terrorism, the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan, and the need for arms reduction. In conclusion, he positioned himself in the roster of his role models: “I would like once more to remind you of the profound alarm felt by our great predecessors—Einstein, Bohr, Russell, Szilard—for the fate of mankind, and of the ideas they left us. These ideas—about peace, about the danger that threatens mankind, about the importance of mutual understanding and tolerance, about the openness of society, the respect for human rights, the convergence of states with different political systems, the responsibility of scientists—are as important today as when they were expressed for the first time.”51
Although the Soviet leadership did not dare to go so far as to revoke Sakharov’s Academy membership, there was a point during Sakharov’s exile when he himself raised this very question. This was obviously a step he felt had to be considered, when nothing else remained in his hands to force the authorities to retreat. In fall 1984, the issue was the government’s refusal to let his wife travel abroad. She wanted to see her mother and her children in the United States, but what made the trip vital was that she needed medical attention that she was certain the Soviet doctors under KGB supervision could not have provided for her.
Sakharov composed a long letter to the president of the Soviet Academy of Sciences, Anatoly Aleksandrov, and when the next batch of FIAN visitors came, he asked them to transmit the letter to Vitaly Ginzburg. Sakharov wrote the letter in longhand and also wrote a copy longhand for Ginzburg. The letter has been reproduced in Sakharov’s Memoirs and in Bonner’s book Alone Together.52 Ginzburg also reproduced it in his book about physics and astrophysics.53
In his letter to Aleksandrov, Sakharov calls his situation the “most tragic moment” of his life.54 He describes his predicaments in great detail. The style of the letter is so reserved and unhurried that under different circumstances it could be characterized as pedagogical. His final conclusion is sober and rigorous: “If you and the Presidium of the Academy of Sciences would not find it possible to support my request in this for my most important tragic cause, the travel of my wife, or should your approach and other efforts fail resolving the problem by March 1, 1985, I request to consider the present letter to be the announcement of my departure from the Academy of Sciences of the USSR (italics in the original).55 As if the meaning of his raising the issue of his resignation from the Academy was not clear, Sakharov explained in his private letter to Ginzburg that he was fully aware of what the consequences would be. One would have been a hardening of his financial situation. He had dispersed his considerable savings long before his exile, and his royalties from his publishing activities in the West did not reach him. Fortunately, this most drastic step did not have to be taken; Bonner was allowed to leave for her trip.
From March 1985, there was a new supreme leader of the Soviet Union, the fifty-four-year-old Mikhail Gorbachev. It is now a question of contention whether he wanted to dismantle the Soviet regime with its rigid and ruthless one-party system or was simply being forced to agree to one change after another. He did bring in a new atmosphere, but he was a product of the Soviet regime. An anecdote about him seems to be quite characteristic. Ostensibly, he declared that the Soviet Union must become a democratic country and that to those who didn’t understand democracy, it should be explained patiently what democracy was about. If they still did not understand democracy, it should be explained to them again, and again, and again. “But what about those who would still not understand what democracy was?” one of his lieutenants asked. “At that point, they should be liquidated,” Gorbachev responded.
In any case, there were still political prisoners in the Soviet Union when Gorbachev had already assured the world that there were none.56 And Sakharov was still being banished from Moscow and isolated in Gorky when Gorbachev was already in power. One might say that he could have not been aware of every single case of injustice amid so many. This was not quite so, though. Sakharov had written to Gorbachev and the new Soviet leader did receive his letter. He was well aware of the situation, and there were discussions of the terms of allowing Sakharov back to Moscow. This continued to be the situation for twenty(!) long months following Gorbachev’s take over of the Soviet leadership. Finally, one day toward the end of December 1986, in a well-publicized move, Gorbachev ordered a telephone to be installed in Sakharov’s apartment in Gorky (he had not been allowed a telephone during the years of his exile). The following day Gorbachev graciously “invited” the Sakharovs back to Moscow.
The next day following Sakharov’s return to Moscow, his first business was to attend a FIAN seminar. This was symbolic, because back on January 22, 1980, Sakharov had been hijacked on the way to a FIAN seminar and forced into exile. Beyond symbolism, Sakharov was eager to resume doing physics and to see his colleagues. Alas, he did not have much chance for either during the almost three years that remained of his life. Still, he accomplished a lot during this short period. He became a politician in much demand, and now Gorbachev was also finding him useful as a living example of the new Soviet democracy. It was during this time that Sakharov traveled for the first time abroad.
He embarked on his first trip on November 6, 1988; it was to the United States, where he was greeted as a hero and was received by President Reagan in the White House. This was a symbolic meeting and it happened during the last months of Reagan’s presidency. Sakharov tried to discuss his reservations about the Strategic Defense Initiative (SDI) with the American president, but he did not get through to him; Reagan kept repeating his usual statements about the protection of world peace by SDI. A more substantive meeting took place in Washington, DC, between Edward Teller and Sakharov, the two respective fathers of the hydrogen bomb. They may have not seen eye to eye in political matters, but there were issues where they were in agreement without ever having discussed them in any great detail. They considered the utilization of nuclear power inevitable in solving the energy problem of humankind, and they both recognized the safety advantage of placing the nuclear reactors underground. Sakharov urged “that people concerned about the potential harmful consequences of the peaceful use of nuclear energy should concentrate their efforts not on attempts to ban nuclear power, but instead on demands to assure its complete safety.”57 Edward Teller could have issued this warning.
There was a banquet honoring Teller for his contributions to the human rights policy of the United Nations, organized by the Ethics and Public Policy Center, a conservative institution, and about 750 people attended the event. The get-together of the two physicists was brief; Sakharov had a busy schedule and had to catch the last plane that evening from Washington to Boston. Upon his arrival to the banquet, Sakharov and Teller had a private chat; then Sakharov addressed the gathering. He was very critical of SDI; he called it a great mistake and pointed to its enormous costs. Sakharov warned that it could lead to nuclear war rather than help avoid it, and that it would hinder arms control. After Sakharov spoke he had to leave, and Teller could respond to Sakharov’s remarks only later in the evening. He dismissed Sakharov’s criticism and referred to the fact that the Soviet guest had been cut off from proper communications for years and could not have been properly informed about SDI.
Andrei Sakharov and Ronald Reagan in 1988 at the White House.
Source: Courtesy of the Ronald Reagan Library, Simi Valley, California.
Teller could easily brush off other people’s opinions if they were different from his own, and in this case suggesting that Sakharov spoke without being informed was especially misleading. Teller should have not supposed that Sakharov would speak out publicly on a vitally important topic without getting to the bottom of it. Teller did not know that Sakharov had investigated the antiballistic missile systems during the last years of his tenure at Arzamas-16, and I have mentioned his arguments opposing their introduction. Furthermore, Sakharov did his best to become informed about the pros and cons of SDI because he anticipated that he would be asked about it. It was especially exemplary that in addition to his opinion he wanted to be versed in the arguments of the SDI supporters.
Upon his arrival in the United States, he was staying in Newton, Massachusetts, with Bonner’s children. Sakharov had made arrangements to see Arno Penzias, a Nobel laureate physicist, immediately after a visit to his physician.58 Penzias responded to Sakharov’s summon with a sense of duty; he flew right away from California to Massachusetts and spent a whole afternoon with Sakharov.59 The Russian physicist wanted “to hear the arguments being presented in favor of SDI from someone he [could] trust, in order to prepare for them.”60 Penzias was not an expert of SDI; he only had his instinctive doubts about its feasibility, but he was familiar with the evaluation of the experts of the American Physical Society (APS), and he trusted them. According to the APS experts, the X-ray laser would not be able to do what it was expected to do. On the other hand, the promoters of SDI—most of all Reagan and Teller—did an excellent job of enhancing the public image of the program. Sakharov found Penzias’s presentation very helpful, because he learned about the pro-SDI position with which neither of them agreed, but with which Sakharov felt obliged to be familiar.
Penzias emphasized to Sakharov that an important pro-SDI selling point was that, ostensibly, it offered a world without nuclear weapons;61 that SDI was more about research than about deploying new weapons; that outstanding scientists were working on the program; and that most useful technological spin-off represented additional benefits from SDI.62 For his part, Sakharov shared his thoughts about SDI with Penzias. He stressed that the relative costs of SDI for the American economy were much lower than its implementation costs would be for the Soviet Union, considering its economy. The Soviet leadership was apprehensive of SDI, not least because it did not find it possible to create a comparable system for their country. Nonetheless, he found it feasible that the Soviet leaders would “announce a program to calm their people and then negotiate.”
A few years later, Penzias told me additional details about his conversation with Sakharov on that November 1988 afternoon. Penzias told Sakharov that he considered Reagan’s SDI immoral, because it might induce the Soviets also to change the rules of the game. Penzias added that “the Russians at some point might launch their nuclear weapons. Sakharov said, no, they wouldn’t; he said, they would back down, and Reagan would win. Even though he [Sakharov] was fighting against SDI, he thought that the odds were very high that Reagan would win. I [Penzias] still felt that it was immoral. It was a 90 percent bet and a bet with the future of the planet is immoral. There were other means of bringing down the Soviet Union. A Russian scientist I knew called the USSR a low-temperature society with an infinitesimally small specific heat. A slight perturbation would destroy it. A few people in Russia went to the authorities and declared their intention to emigrate and the whole system went nuts.”63 The physical analogy quoted by Penzias sounded attractive, but the slight perturbation would have cost lives and the prolonged suffering of many. Sakharov’s vision of what would happen proved to be correct.
Andrei Sakharov and Elena Bonner’s grave in the Vostryakovsky Cemetery, Moscow.
Source: Photograph by and courtesy of Alexander Vernyi and Lyubov Vernaya-Sakharova, Moscow.
Andrei Sakharov died on December 14, 1989. He was buried in the Vostryakovsky Cemetery, in Moscow, the same cemetery where his first wife was buried. But he was alone in his grave until 2011 when Elena Bonner died and was buried in the same grave. Sakharov died at the pinnacle of his popularity. A reviewer of his Memoirs wrote that his life was “probably the life of the age; he lived the triumph of physics and the catastrophe of Marxism.”64 A leading Soviet academician, Roald Sagdeev, commented: “We have lost our moral compass.”65 In a poll taken shortly after Sakharov’s death, he was found to be the most revered figure in Soviet history. The political component of his life was substantial during the last two decades of his life, and was overwhelming during the last three years. When asked “why he had abandoned his resolve to concentrate on science,” his response was that it was because “he could make a greater contribution to politics than to physics.”66 This was reminiscent of Leo Szilard, who felt it incumbent upon him to dedicate himself to easing the plight of refugees and to fight Nazism rather than advance his scientific career.67
Sakharov became a symbol. The editor of Science, Daniel E. Koshland Jr., wrote “Andrei Sakharov set a standard for the modern hero. Few will achieve his level, but many will fight injustice more fiercely because of his example.”68 We can only speculate about how Sakharov would have viewed the collapse of the Soviet Union, the emergence of Russia and the former Soviet republics as independent states, the evolving Russian society and its precarious road toward democracy, and the fate of Russian science during the past decades. How would he consider all those weighty problems for whose solution he was willing to sacrifice his health and personal freedom and whose solutions do not appear to be much closer today than they were at the time of his death?
