Disarmament Diplomacy
Issue No. 10, November 1996
The need for disarmament, the need for debate
by Ian Black
Significant news about international attempts to control nuclear
weapons has not been in short supply for the past two years: the
permanent extension of the Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) and the
signing of the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT) were both truly
landmark events - for all their inadequacies. But arms control
issues are not popular or accessible subjects. Even the most
serious of British newspapers - a dwindling band now being battered
by a period of extreme trivialisation - struggle to devote more
than passing attention to them.
Yet to be fair to the hard-nosed creatures who set our news
agenda there is a symbiotic relationship between the media and the
public, and it is striking that both the NPT and the CTBT - the
imperfect result of long and complex negotiating processes - were
achieved with barely any public discussion about the role of
nuclear weapons in the post-Cold War era. And little debate - the
odd carefully-crafted letter to the editor, the occasional expert
opinion piece on crowded, column-fixated editorial pages - means
little coverage.
I say 'public' discussion because the issues are being
aired in some important places: in September Sir Michael Atiyah, a
former president of the Royal Society, set out the findings of the
Canberra Commission on nuclear weapons in the elegant wood-panelled
lecture hall of the Royal United Services Institution on Whitehall
- hardly a standard forum for discussing disarmament. Ministry of
Defence mandarins and service chiefs sat attentively as the
Canberra case was put from the podium and Professor Joseph Rotblat
of Pugwash commented approvingly as Sir Michael called deterrence
"a game of poker with incredibly high stakes" and deftly rebuffed
one sceptical hawk with the words: "The chances of a nuclear
holocaust are considerably greater than yours of winning the
lottery."
Similar scenes have been played out recently in meetings at the
International Institute for Strategic Studies and at the Royal
Institute of International Affairs, where Professor Robert O'Neill
and Field Marshal Lord Carver also presented the Canberra
conclusions to an audience of the great, the good and the
interested.
The absence of a wider public debate is partly explained by the
time-lag between events and understanding: the Cold War has ended
and prospects for a nuclear confrontation are non-existent. But few
who are not professionally or politically involved with nuclear
weapons have challenged the government line of proclaiming the
triumph of deterrence, emphasising uncertainty and doing nothing
unless forced to.
For Whitehall, maintaining the status quo, with symbolic
gestures towards disarmament (like phasing out the RAF's outdated
free-fall bomb), seems the simplest option. The maintenance of
existing assets can be justified, in the absence of probing
external scrutiny or discussion, by the 'lunatic dictator' theory
("with people like Gadafy or Saddam around...") or the cost
argument. And taken the continuing congruence of nuclear weapons
possession and membership of the United Nations security council
for Britain and France, two medium-sized, former colonial powers,
the purely political arguments for retention are clearly
strong.
But behind this ostensibly assured facade the professionals seem
to know what the wider public has not yet taken on board: that
nuclear weapons may have outlived their utility and that the more
pressing problem for the future may be how to get rid of them
rather than how to hold on to them. December's statement by General
Lee Butler, former commander-in-chief of US Strategic Forces, Field
Marshal Lord Carver and dozens of other retired senior officers
should be a useful stimulus to debate.
Discussion is timely because privately, the establishment seems
nervous: British officials were shocked by the unilateral US
testing moratorium that put paid to their own plans. Strong support
by John Major for Jacques Chirac's Muruora Atoll tests flew in the
face of furious popular reactions, but it was a deliberate gesture,
not only of solidarity with a loyal and like-minded ally, but of
stubborn reaffirmation of belief in deterrence.
Politicians did little to help clarify the confusion: the Labour
Party's criticism of the government for backing France seemed to
contradict its own bipartisan support for Trident and reflected a
wider lack of understanding over exactly where we are in the
nuclear business these days. And outrage faded quickly when the
Mururoa tests ended: emollient diplomatic gestures like the
coordinated accession of the US, Britain and France to the South
Pacific Nuclear-Weapon-Free Zone (Treaty of Rarotonga) barely
attracted any notice. Some focussed on the meaning of India's
refusal to sign the CTBT - with Delhi's charge of double standards
muddying the waters - but this failed to stimulate much debate.
Yet the CTBT really mattered: no-one who has followed nuclear
issues could be left unmoved by the rhetoric that marked
September's treaty signing ceremony at the UN. "In the annals of
history it will be told that nuclear testing happened over a period
of 40 years in the 20th century and then never again," proclaimed
Gro Harlem Brundtland, the Norwegian Prime Minister. It would have
been good to have heard such lofty sentiments from anti-nuclear
campaigners like the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament (CND), who
offered only grudging acknowledgement that something had happened
and focussed unhistorically only on the (very real) flaws of the
treaty.
Two years of change have made significant inroads into the case
for nuclear weapons, but fundamental connections are simply not
being made: the two treaties, the World Court ruling and the
Canberra Commission all testify to movement. But people need to
understand better what has happened, and the potential for what
could follow.
Not only abolitionists want debate. Sir Michael Quinlan
may be right to argue that abolishing nuclear weapons is
"neither feasible nor necessarily desirable" - on grounds of
verification difficulties, Russian-Chinese rivalries and a host of
other reasons. "We are simply not entitled to assume that history
has no more difficult exam papers to set us," he argues. But his
voice, and the voices of his interlocutors, should be heard more
widely.
It is time to move discussion out of the think tanks and into
the streets - or at least into the columns of our newspapers. For
as one wag said in the bad old days before change ever seemed
possible: "One nuclear weapon can ruin your entire day."
Ian Black is Diplomatic Editor of The
Guardian.
© 1999 The Acronym Institute.
Return to top of page
Return to List of Contents
Return to Acronym Main Page
|