Moral dilemma of nuclear scientists

The 1930s were heady times for nuclear scientists. A hit parade of discoveries gave us new insights into the properties of the nucleus. But few scientific discoveries have influenced mankind as profoundly as the discovery of neutron in 1932 followed by the discovery of nuclear fission in 1938. These discoveries ushered in the era of nuclear “gold rush.”  
The means of unlocking enormous amount of energy stored inside a nucleus during fission was met with cheers as well as trepidation by the scientific community worldwide. While the dovish scientists foresaw the use of nuclear energy for evil purposes, the hawkish ones envisioned using it to develop weapons of mass destruction. The hawks threw scientific ethics out of the window and realized their vision by building and dropping the nuclear bomb over Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. The world has not been the same since then. Our life became inextricably linked forever to the genie sleeping inside the nucleus. By unleashing its awesome power, the hawks have burdened the future generations with the ominous presence of the genie.
“I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.” These words from the Hindu scripture Bhagavad Gita were chanted by a despondent Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the bomb, after witnessing its overwhelming destructive power. Oppenheimer reviled at the thought that history will remember him as one who gave mankind the means for its own destruction.
Horrified at the human suffering but awed at the technical achievement, those who were neither doves nor hawks, but in the middle, immediately launched a campaign to change nuclear swords into plowshares. In nuclear energy, they saw a glorious future, in particular the possibility of generating electric power for civilian consumption.
Today’s middlemen know fully well that it is impossible to totally eliminate the risks and dangers stemming from the exploitation of nuclear fission. Yet, they rationalize their support by arguing that the risks must be understood within the context of the other already known risks, natural or man-made. While their intentions are honorable, the doves view the rationalization of the middlemen as a ruse to secure the game of hazardous conjectures by inventing and giving currency to neologisms.
As for the honchos of the power apparatus, instead of invoking the grace of God by which the politicians of yore legitimized their misdeeds, they invoke the expertise of their yes-men to blind the people by presenting fallacies as truths and facts as fiction. Scientists who do not concur with the judgment of the yes-men are denounced and dumped on the refuse heap of history as enemies of the nation.
One is often left with the impression that the loyal scientists are necessarily motivated by financial advantage and political perks. Yes it’s true, they are. But personal conviction and fear, including life-long work and research in their chosen field also influence to a large extent their support for nuclear weapons and nuclear power plants. That’s why loyal scientists become supporters of a development they sometimes acknowledge being disastrous but which, nonetheless, is considered by them as contribution to the advancement of mankind.
In the United States, the fear of Hitler led two internationally renowned émigré physicists, Hans Bethe and Edward Teller, to devote the youthful years of their lives doing research under the auspices of the Manhattan Project that eventually led to the development of the nuclear bomb. After witnessing the mind-boggling destructive power of their creation, both realized that they carried a heavier share of responsibility than most of their colleagues for contributing to the development of the fearful weapon of mass destruction. Consequently, they felt an overriding need to justify their past work in the eyes of the world, and to show to mankind the practical benefits of nuclear energy.
Hans Bethe never denied that he was in a truly tragic situation. The appalling images of death caused by the nuclear bomb turned him into a dove. To extirpate his feeling of guilt, Bethe made a deal with his conscience to work for a happy outcome of the “nuclear gamble.” Indeed, after the Second World War, he vigorously campaigned for peaceful use of nuclear energy. His post-war work on the discovery of nuclear fusion which fuels the Sun and the stars earned him the Nobel Prize in 1967.
The remorseless Edward Teller, instead made a deal not with his conscience but, as the doves would say, with Mephistopheles and invested his entire professional life to nuclear weapons research leading to the development of the hydrogen bomb and subsequently to the failed space-based anti-missile weapons program, familiarly known as Star Wars. Teller also sold to President Ronald Reagan the idea of “Brilliant Pebbles” as low-cost kinetic kill vehicles deployed in space. The pebbles were shot down before they were catapulted into space.
There is no dearth of Teller-type scientists in the world. At the weapons lab at Los Alamos and Livermore where the writer worked in the mid-1980s, it was not uncommon to meet a person who designed nuclear weapons and attended church or synagogue and found no conflict between his day job and his faith. Some of them even fancied that they were playing the role of God!
As we reflect 70 years after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it is legitimate to ask the question: What do we do with the genie inside a nucleus _ the genie whose destructive power today is literally a million times greater than in 1945?  Theoretical physicist Freeman Dyson of Princeton University wrote: “If we had a reliable way to label our toys good and bad, it would be easy to regulate technology wisely. But we can rarely see far enough ahead to know which road leads to damnation.”
Dyson may not have had nuclear scientists in mind, but his words do sum up the views of the hawks and middlemen alike. Inside the nucleus, the hawks see a sword while the middlemen cannot distinguish between damnation and a glowing future. The romance of both with nuclear energy is like Prometheus offering the blessings and curses of fire. The doves, on the other hand, see in nuclear energy an impending holocaust.

The writer is Professor of Physics at Fordham University, New York.
Photos: Google Image

 

Moral dilemma of nuclear scientists

The 1930s were heady times for nuclear scientists. A hit parade of discoveries gave us new insights into the properties of the nucleus. But few scientific discoveries have influenced mankind as profoundly as the discovery of neutron in 1932 followed by the discovery of nuclear fission in 1938. These discoveries ushered in the era of nuclear gold rush. The means of unlocking enormous amount of energy stored inside a nucleus during fission was met with cheers as well as trepidation by the scientific community worldwide. While the dovish scientists foresaw the use of nuclear energy for evil purposes, the hawkish ones envisioned using it to develop weapons of mass destruction. The hawks threw scientific ethics out of the window and realized their vision by building and dropping the nuclear bomb over Hiroshima on August 6, 1945. The world has not been the same since then. Our life became inextricably linked forever to the genie sleeping inside the nucleus. By unleashing its awesome power, the hawks have burdened the future generations with the ominous presence of the genie. I am become death, the destroyer of worlds. These words from the Hindu scripture Bhagavad Gita were chanted by a despondent Robert Oppenheimer, the father of the bomb, after witnessing its overwhelming destructive power. Oppenheimer reviled at the thought that history will remember him as one who gave mankind the means for its own destruction. Horrified at the human suffering but awed at the technical achievement, those who were neither doves nor hawks, but in the middle, immediately launched a campaign to change nuclear swords into plowshares. In nuclear energy, they saw a glorious future, in particular the possibility of generating electric power for civilian consumption. Todays middlemen know fully well that it is impossible to totally eliminate the risks and dangers stemming from the exploitation of nuclear fission. Yet, they rationalize their support by arguing that the risks must be understood within the context of the other already known risks, natural or man-made. While their intentions are honorable, the doves view the rationalization of the middlemen as a ruse to secure the game of hazardous conjectures by inventing and giving currency to neologisms. As for the honchos of the power apparatus, instead of invoking the grace of God by which the politicians of yore legitimized their misdeeds, they invoke the expertise of their yes-men to blind the people by presenting fallacies as truths and facts as fiction. Scientists who do not concur with the judgment of the yes-men are denounced and dumped on the refuse heap of history as enemies of the nation. One is often left with the impression that the loyal scientists are necessarily motivated by financial advantage and political perks. Yes its true, they are. But personal conviction and fear, including life-long work and research in their chosen field also influence to a large extent their support for nuclear weapons and nuclear power plants. Thats why loyal scientists become supporters of a development they sometimes acknowledge being disastrous but which, nonetheless, is considered by them as contribution to the advancement of mankind. In the United States, the fear of Hitler led two internationally renowned migr physicists, Hans Bethe and Edward Teller, to devote the youthful years of their lives doing research under the auspices of the Manhattan Project that eventually led to the development of the nuclear bomb. After witnessing the mind-boggling destructive power of their creation, both realized that they carried a heavier share of responsibility than most of their colleagues for contributing to the development of the fearful weapon of mass destruction. Consequently, they felt an overriding need to justify their past work in the eyes of the world, and to show to mankind the practical benefits of nuclear energy. Hans Bethe never denied that he was in a truly tragic situation. The appalling images of death caused by the nuclear bomb turned him into a dove. To extirpate his feeling of guilt, Bethe made a deal with his conscience to work for a happy outcome of the nuclear gamble. Indeed, after the Second World War, he vigorously campaigned for peaceful use of nuclear energy. His post-war work on the discovery of nuclear fusion which fuels the Sun and the stars earned him the Nobel Prize in 1967. The remorseless Edward Teller, instead made a deal not with his conscience but, as the doves would say, with Mephistopheles and invested his entire professional life to nuclear weapons research leading to the development of the hydrogen bomb and subsequently to the failed space-based anti-missile weapons program, familiarly known as Star Wars. Teller also sold to President Ronald Reagan the idea of Brilliant Pebbles as low-cost kinetic kill vehicles deployed in space. The pebbles were shot down before they were catapulted into space. There is no dearth of Teller-type scientists in the world. At the weapons lab at Los Alamos and Livermore where the writer worked in the mid-1980s, it was not uncommon to meet a person who designed nuclear weapons and attended church or synagogue and found no conflict between his day job and his faith. Some of them even fancied that they were playing the role of God! As we reflect 70 years after the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it is legitimate to ask the question: What do we do with the genie inside a nucleus _ the genie whose destructive power today is literally a million times greater than in 1945? Theoretical physicist Freeman Dyson of Princeton University wrote: If we had a reliable way to label our toys good and bad, it would be easy to regulate technology wisely. But we can rarely see far enough ahead to know which road leads to damnation. Dyson may not have had nuclear scientists in mind, but his words do sum up the views of the hawks and middlemen alike. Inside the nucleus, the hawks see a sword while the middlemen cannot distinguish between damnation and a glowing future. The romance of both with nuclear energy is like Prometheus offering the blessings and curses of fire. The doves, on the other hand, see in nuclear energy an impending holocaust. The writer is Professor of Physics at Fordham University, New York. Photos: Google Image