Many analysts of the historical evolution of strategic reasoning about nuclear weapons would date the beginnings with the moment in 1939 when Lise Meitner and her nephew Otto Frisch, in the safety of her place of exile in Sweden, interpreted the Berlin laboratory results of her long-time research partner Otto Hahn as having been an instance of nuclear fission.1
But others would note that this possibility had been hypothetically visible to the nuclear physics community for a longer time, with Hahn’s research findings simply being the first tangible demonstration of it. Some strategic analysts would then go back to 1914 and the publication of a book by H. G. Wells, A World Set Free,2 which spoke of massive explosives produced by the energy inside the atom. Wells of course was much more of a science fiction writer than a scientist, and would have to be charged with the guesswork of a wild imagination.
Yet it is interesting to review the strategic and political projections that Wells extrapolated from his vision of nuclear weapons, for in his novel he predicted that the destruction of entire cities by a single bomb would lead to an end to war, as the sheer destructiveness involved would now deter all sides from launching such wars. Such indeed were to be the expectations of many ordinary people after the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki ended World War II.
Even earlier, one might note the speculations advanced by the Swedish chemist and inventor Alfred Nobel at the time that he was endowing the Nobel Peace Prize to go along with the other prizes he had funded to recognize scientific advancements. As the inventor of dynamite and other powerful explosives usable in wars, Nobel was driven in his generosity by a personal sense of guilt for what he had made possible.3
Looking ahead, Nobel feared and predicted that much more powerful explosives would soon enough be developed, and/or very deadly biological weapons, any of which would be capable of destroying entire cities and killing large numbers of people. And, as would Wells in his 1914 book, Nobel projected that the emergence of such weapons of mass destruction would make nations abstain from wars thereafter, as all sides would be deterred by the sheer damage that all might suffer. All through the first decades of the twentieth century, one thus saw strategists and political analysts dealing with the background possibilities of such destruction of cities, with the winner on the ground suffering such attacks just as much as the loser on the ground. As demonstrated quite shockingly in a very minor and introductory way in World War I, airships, airplanes, and submarines allowed both sides to circumvent surface barriers giving rise to the basic concept of mutual assured destruction and possible mutual deterrence.4
It was against this background that one saw diplomats speculating about substantial disarmament as well as collective security under the League of Nations system, and saw the signature of the Kellog-Briand Pact “outlawing war”
One could raise the challenge today of “how can we talk of going to zero nuclear weapons when we all know about very destructive weapons being possible against a background of international distrust and conflict,” just as the same questions were posed in the 1920s and 1930s, as the world’s elementary knowledge was evolving of the possibilities of a nuclear chain reaction leading to massive explosions.
H. G. Wells may thus merely have been engaged in the entertaining guesswork of science fiction when he wrote A World Set Free, but his prose is nonetheless remarkable, as he wrote of a bomb based on “atomic disintegration.” More probably, he was exploiting the speculation of physicists he had overheard considering some inherent possibilities, the kind of cocktail party chit-chat that touches on all the possibilities of the physical world.
By some accounts, Leo Szilard had just finished reading Wells’ book in London in 1934 when he heard Ernest Rutherford giving a talk somewhat broadly dismissing the possibilities of nuclear physics, while at the same time Szilard had then hit upon the more precise way that fission could induce the chain reaction that would produce enormous explosions. Szilard’s memory of his thoughts at the time would nourish the pessimism of the “realist” about international politics, for he concluded that “a nation that made the connection would not rest until it had a bomb.”5
This observation came to Szilard in London, after his departure from Germany following Hitler’s rise to power. His conclusion was much more generic, not tied to the presence of a particular totalitarian dictator, but more to the inherent rivalry of nations. As a Jewish Hungarian, who like Edward Teller and others had been able to find better academic opportunities in Weimar Germany than in a Hungary beset with anti-Semitic quotas and restrictions, Szilard might well have remained in Germany if the Nazis had not come to power.
Szilard actually took out a patent on the process of nuclear fission in 1934 (he had indeed taken out numerous patents in Germany at the end of the 1920s). He was told by his new British colleagues that such patents were somewhat frowned upon by many in the British scientific community, as too “mercenary” and as barriers to full exchange and forward progress of general science. But Szilard defended himself, arguing that nuclear fission was an especially dangerous new scientific realm, and that patents might be one way of slowing down its exploitation until it could be placed into more reliable hands.6
Szilard at this early stage inquired whether the patent itself could be shrouded in secrecy, and was told that such secrecy was only possible if the British defense authorities requested it. As a sign of the limited imagination of the officers contacted in the British admiralty, he was told that his patent was not deemed of sufficient military significance to warrant secrecy.
Szilard at the beginning of the 1930s was of course ahead of his time in envisaging nuclear fission as a real and practical possibility, with many of the more senior physicists in Britain and elsewhere remaining uncertain about this entire area of science, and decidedly skeptical about whether any of th...