Abstract
In the late 1970s and early 1980s, alarmist presumptions about the Soviet Union s strategic intentions spurred the United States to adopt an aggressive, militarized stance towards its Cold War rival. The U.S. public was inundated with propaganda about America's “window of vulnerability” and why the Soviets thought they could win a nuclear war. Lending plausibility to these scenarios was the belief among U.S. officials that the Soviet Union had by the end of the 1970s acquired a first-strike nuclear posture.
Eventually, access to information contained in previously classified Soviet documents showed that the Soviet Union's Cold War posture was not nearly as threatening as once presumed. In 1956, when Nikita Khrushchev repudiated the notion that war between capitalist and communist countries was inevitable, he was not simply propagandizing. Similarly, Leonid Brezhnev's speech at Tula in January 1977, in which he explicitly denied U.S. charges that the Soviets were seeking a first-strike capability, was not an attempt at deception. Instead, both statements were expressions of actual Soviet policy.
Unfortunately, by the time the United States figured this out, it was already too late—billions, perhaps hundreds of billions, of defense dollars had already been wasted on a massive military buildup and a fantastic Star Wars missile defense system.
In Russian Strategic Modernization, Nikolai Sokov, a senior associate at the Monterey Institute of International Studies and a former Soviet arms control adviser, describes the various elements of Soviet defense planning that led the United States to misinterpret that country's strategic posture.
According to Sokov, the source of U.S. misinterpretations was an uncritical acceptance by conservative ideologues of what Stephen Meyer has called the “military mission model” of Soviet weapons deployment. This model posited that “weapons which the Soviets are technically capable of building, but for which no current missions exist, will not be built.”
Discerning few second-strike weapons in the Soviet arsenal, U.S. policy-makers asked: Why would the Soviets allow their first-strike missiles to remain vulnerable to an American first strike—unless they were planning to strike first themselves? In response to this question, Sokov demonstrates that this “ominous” strategic posture was largely “unintended,” the product of an influential and self-interested Soviet defense industry.
“Are you sure you shouldn't say something about economics?”
Sokov points out that Joseph Stalin and Khrushchev played a predominant role in shaping the Soviet Union's strategic posture, but Brezhnev's rule was characterized by compromise and consensus. He writes, “For issues of weapons acquisition, the principle of consensus meant, among other things, that the defense industry enjoyed the same power and status as the Ministry of Defense.” As a result, weapons designers were able to veto unfavorable defense proposals and push through procurement plans for what Sokov calls “half-baked” weapons systems.
Thus, designers who introduced the first successful liquid-fueled intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) were more inclined to MIRV (place multiple warheads on) these heavy weapons than they were to develop the light, solid-fueled ICBMs—which were mobile and thus more survivable—sought by the military. Also, because of the high priority assigned to ICBMs by the bureaucratically preeminent Strategic Rocket Force, the production and deployment of MIRVed ICBMs took precedence over the procurement of submarine-launched ballistic missiles and air-launched cruise missiles.
This “logrolling” for MIRVed ICBMs was disrupted in the early 1970s by Dmitry Ustinov, then-Deputy Secretary of the Communist Party's Central Committee. Ustinov challenged the defense industry's influence by bringing the Ministry of Defense Industry and its design bureau, the Moscow Institute of Thermal Technology, into the strategic missile design arena. In 1967, the institute successfully developed a short-range, mobile, solid-fueled missile. But its mobile, solid-fueled ICBMs would not be deployed for years— long after the Soviet's “menacing” posture had been detected, misconstrued, and denounced.
Sokov credits “Star Wars” for accomplishing precisely the opposite of what Reaganite ideologues claim. It not only helped strengthen the position of Soviet hard-liners, it also provoked the development of the TOPOL-M ICBM (SS-27). This missile, which was specifically designed to overcome a potential U.S. missile defense system, reportedly features numerous decoys and penetration aids, a hardened warhead, and a faster and lower boost trajectory.
Russia has already deployed 20 TOPOL-Ms. The adverb “already” is interesting here—during a meeting in Geneva in 1985, Mikhail Gorbachev told Ronald Reagan, “I think you should know that we have already developed a response [to Star Wars]. It will be effective and far less expensive than your project, and be ready for use in less time” (emphasis added).
Sokov credits arms control negotiations, most notably START I and II, for helping to rein in the defense industry and further rationalize the Soviet and Russian strategic posture. Although military leaders initially objected to the treaties, they gradually realized that reductions in the country's nuclear arsenals were in the national interest. Growing economic constraints in the late 1980s and the ensuing collapse of the Soviet Union further limited the influence of the defense industry.
The book also addresses the future modernization of the strategic programs and the ongoing strategic debate among Russia's “minimalists” (those who might support MIRVing ICBMs in response to a U.S. national missile defense system) and “maximalists” (those who support MIRVing irrespective of missile defenses). This analysis, current into the autumn of 1999, is speculative and, in some instances, has been overtaken by events—in particular, the election of Vladimir Putin and the Duma's ratification of START II.
In late 1998, I participated in the Ballistic Missile Defense Conference in Washington, D.C., which featured Lady Margaret Thatcher as its keynote speaker. I had the opportunity to ask Republican Sen. Jon Kyl of Arizona whether he took Russia's sensibilities into account when he urged the building of missile defenses. His response—which was caught on film by a C-SPAN camera crew—went something like this: “During the Cold War there were two schools of thought about how to deal with the Soviet Union. One school thought that the Soviets should be accommodated. The other, led by President Reagan, forced the issue. We now know who was right. Like Reagan, I feel that we should explain our point of view to the Russians, but if they object, we must proceed. They eventually will come along.”
Sokov reaches a different conclusion. Although he credits U.S. pressure with influencing the pace of the negotiations on the START treaties, he believes that the key variable was always the Russian military, which had to be convinced that the agreements were in Russia's national interest before it would drop its objections and delays. It is doubtful that it “will come along” now on matters not in the country's national interest.
The United States has much to answer for when it comes to explaining the events that led to the end of the Cold War. Not only does most of the credit belong to Gorbachev, but many of the assumptions and assertions bandied about by Reaganite ideo-logues—both past and present—do not withstand serious scrutiny. Have they so discredited themselves as to raise doubts about their judgments today? No small matter when it comes to ballistic missile defense. That, of course, is for the public, and further investigation, to determine.
“That's a pen. I leave nothing to chance.”
