Thinking About The Unthinkable

By James Kelly

An idea whose moment may have arrived is sweeping the U.S.--for better or for worse. From the halls of Congress to Vermont hamlets to the posh living rooms of Beverly Hills, Americans are not only thinking about the unthinkable, they are opening a national dialogue on ways to control and reduce the awesome and frightening nuclear arsenals of the superpowers. This new awareness of the dangers of nuclear war cuts across traditional political boundaries. Advocates of a bilateral freeze on the development and deployment of nuclear weapons include some peacenik activists who led protests against U.S. involvement in the Viet Nam War a decade ago. But the new movement is far more broadly based; it includes more bishops than Berrigans, doctors and lawyers with impeccable Establishment credentials, archconservatives as well as diehard liberals, and such knowledgeable experts as retired Admiral Noel Gayler, former director of the supersecret National Security Agency, and former SALT II Negotiator Paul Warnke. Says Rabbi Alexander Schindler, head of the Union of American Hebrew Congregations: "Nuclear disarmament is going to become the central moral issue of the '80s, just as Viet Nam was in the '60s."

The central goal of the movement is to educate the public to the true horrors of what war would mean to the U.S. and the world today, and thereby put pressure on a hawkish Administration to negotiate a cutback in nuclear arms with the Soviet Union. Some of that prodding is already coming from Congress. Senators Edward Kennedy of Massachusetts and Mark Hatfield of Oregon two weeks ago introduced a resolution that calls for a freeze on the testing, production and further deployment of nuclear weapons by both the U.S. and the Soviet Union. The nonbinding measure has already attracted the support of 22 Senators and 150 Representatives.

That was not all. Republican Charles McC. Mathias of Maryland last week introduced another Senate resolution calling upon the President to "immediately invite" the Soviets to negotiations on strategic arms and the proliferation of nuclear weapons and technology. Mathias charged that the Administration was guilty of a "grievous failure" for not having initiated such negotiations. "Nothing less than the future of mankind is at stake," he said.

The resolutions on Capitol Hill are the small tip of a very large iceberg. In part, the Senators who favor the motions are responding to an unprecedented flood of teach-ins, referendums, legislative proposals, letter-writing campaigns, petitions, and books addressing the peril of nuclear war. The groups involved in the movement include such longtime disarmament organizations as SANE and the Union of Concerned Scientists. But with them are a host of fledgling organizations: Physicians for Social Responsibility, International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War, the Lawyers Alliance for Nuclear Arms Control, the Business Alert to Nuclear War, Artists for Survival. The St. Louis-based National Clearinghouse for the Nuclear Weapons Freeze Campaign, founded last December, estimates that 20,000 volunteers are now involved in the crusade nationwide.

Although its hard-cover publication by Alfred A. Knopf will not occur until April, one of the most talked-about books of the year is Jonathan Schell's The Fate of the World. First published in The New Yorker last month, it is an impassioned argument that nuclear weapons have made war obsolete and world government imperative. Astonishingly, some 40 new books on nuclear issues are scheduled to be published before the end of this year; Pocket Books is rushing into bookstores with 100,000 copies of Nuclear War: What's in It for You ?, a paperback primer on the subject, written by Roger Molander, founder of Ground Zero, a nuclear-education group.

The main reason for the growth of the movement is increasing concern that political leaders of both superpowers--especially since the shelving of the SALT II treaty in 1980 and the failure to resume talks since then--have moved, with mutual belligerence, toward a direct confrontation that could trigger a nuclear war. Those worries were, in a sense, symbolized by a rhetorical exchange between Ronald Reagan and Leonid Brezhnev last week that probably did more to augment superpower tensions than to ease them. Speaking to the 17th Congress of Soviet Trade Unions, the medal-bedecked Soviet leader announced that Moscow was immediately suspending its deployment of new SS-20 nuclear missiles west of the Urals and targeted at Western Europe. The freeze would last until an arms agreement was reached with the U.S., or until the North Atlantic Treaty Organization began deploying 572 new Pershing II and cruise missiles in Europe, which is now scheduled to take place in late 1983. Brezhnev also declared that the Soviet Union would later this year unilaterally dismantle "a certain number" of its medium-range missiles already in place.

Washington swiftly rejected Brezhnev's proposals. "A freeze simply isn't good enough because it doesn't go far enough," said President Reagan in a speech to the Oklahoma state legislature. Instead, Reagan reminded Brezhnev of his "zero option" proposal made last November, in which the U.S. would forgo placing its new Pershing II and cruise missiles on European soil if Moscow would scrap its arsenal of SS-20 missiles.

Concerned that Moscow might nonetheless score a propaganda coup with its proposals, the White House released a detailed analysis intended to show that the Brezhnev plan would only harden an already overwhelming Soviet edge in nuclear weaponry in Europe. The Soviet Union, for example, now has 300 SS-20 missiles in place and capable of being targeted on Western Europe--up from 100 in 1979--while NATO currently has no land-based missiles that can hit the Soviet Union. "What [Brezhnev] is talking about," charged White House Counsellor Edwin Meese, "is a situation where, two-thirds of the way through a football game, one side is ahead 50 to 0, and they want to freeze the score for the rest of the game." Both Reagan and Meese were somewhat overstating the case, since NATO does have aircraft-and submarine-based missiles that partly offset the Soviet advantages.

There was something else to Brezhnev's proposal: a vague but ominous warning to the U.S. that seemed to harken back to the days of an earlier showdown between the countries, the 1962 Cuban missile crisis. If the NATO allies did indeed station the new missiles on European soil next year, said the Soviet leader, "there would arise a real additional threat to our country and its allies." Warned Brezhnev: "This would compel us to take retaliatory steps that would put the other side, including the United States itself, its own territory, in an analogous position. This should not be forgotten."

It is precisely that kind of scare talk, whether emanating from the Kremlin or from the White House, that is galvanizing the nuclear-freeze advocates. For all the obvious reasons, they are uneasy about the military intentions of the Soviet Union. Unfairly or not, the Reagan Administration is also blamed for fueling the current jitters with loose talk--from the President on down--about the prospect of fighting a "limited nuclear war." Many Americans--including some with considerable expertise in the area--fear that their leaders are more comfortable than ever before with the thought of using nuclear weapons. "There is great concern that there are no serious efforts for arms control," says Thomas Halsted, 48, director of the Boston-based Physicians for Social Responsibility. "Instead, the Reagan Administration gives us pronouncements that nuclear weapons are usable and that nuclear wars are winnable." Adds Dr. Stephen Klineberg, professor of sociology at Rice University in Houston: "Reagan has terrified not only the Russians, but the Americans too."

Most of the groups lobbying against the spread of nuclear weapons embrace the belief that, as a first step, the U.S. should negotiate a bilateral nuclear-weapons freeze with the Soviet Union. The current proposal was written in 1979 by Randall Forsberg, 37, a former editor for the Stockholm International Peace Research Institute, who was then studying for a doctorate in military policy and arms control at M.I.T. "My objective was to come up with a goal in arms control that would have great appeal," she explains. "It had to be simple, effective and bilateral in order to involve people."

Forsberg's freeze proposal was first published in April 1980, in a booklet titled Call to Halt the Nuclear Arms Race, but it attracted scant attention. Only after November 1980, when voters in three state senate districts in Massachusetts approved a freeze resolution by 59% to 41%, did the proposal begin to draw wide support. "What that told us," says Randy Kehler, a former schoolteacher and antiwar activist, "was that Ronald Reagan's election was not necessarily synonymous with support of the nuclear-arms race." At last count, freeze resolutions had been passed in 257 town meetings in New England, 31 city councils, and six state legislatures.

Perhaps the most significant local freeze campaign involves the so-called California initiative, which would require the state's Governor, reflecting the will of the people, to advise the President that he should propose to the Soviet Union an immediate halt to the "testing, production and further deployment of nuclear weapons ... in a way that can be verified by both sides." The brainchild of Liberal Activist Harold Willens, board chairman of the Los Angeles-based Factory Equipment Corp., the initiative has been endorsed by Governor Jerry Brown. Backers have gathered more than 600,000 signatures, nearly twice as many as are necessary to have the initiative placed on the November ballot. "We feel that we're on the cutting edge of a new phenomenon," says Willens. "It's going to be very hard for the opposition to sweep us into the corner as a fringe group." Indeed, early estimates are that the referendum measure could pass with 65% of the vote.

There is considerable diversity in the goals and activities of the various antinuclear groups. The Lawyers Alliance for Nuclear Arms Control, for example, was founded a year ago by Alan Sherr, 34, a Boston attorney. "I felt then as I do now that there has got to be a popular initiative on this issue or else no one will really make the difference," says Sherr, who considers himself a political moderate. Since the alliance opened its Boston headquarters, membership has grown from 200 to 700, and there are chapters in three other cities. Sherr has intentionally shied away from endorsing any specific proposal for a nuclear-weapons freeze, and instead is concentrating the alliance's efforts on educating other lawyers about the perils of nuclear war. Thus, the alliance is sponsoring symposiums throughout the country and plans to seek a resolution of support from the American Bar Association.

In Boulder, Colo., the three county commissioners voted earlier this month to revoke their endorsement of a nuclear-disaster evacuation plan proposed for their city by the Federal Emergency Management Agency, which administers the nation's civil defense programs. The switch came after more than 1,000 residents crammed into a downtown theater and listened as speakers denounced the plans as "a grave joke" and "an illusion." Said Betsy Moen, professor of sociology at the University of Colorado: "The plan doesn't even mention radiation. Once a bomb is launched, it will be an all-out war and no community in the U.S. will be exempt."

In Chicago, some 350 professors from 42 colleges and universities have banded together since January to form CAFF: Chicago Area Faculty for a Freeze. "This is a first for me," said Bruce Winstein, a University of Chicago physicist who joined the group. "I've never gotten involved before, but finally I can see where I can make a difference." In South Dakota, which has 150 missile sites and an imposing military payroll, eight city councils have so far passed their own nuclear-freeze resolutions. "South Dakota is the last place people think something like this would be going on," says Tim Langley, director of the South Dakota Peace and Justice Center. "But the sense has grown here that we are entering a new phase of the arms race, that we are getting ready to fight a nuclear war." In St. Paul, Minn., Bonnie Iverson, 37, a mother of two, is busy collecting signatures for her state's freeze resolution. "I get nervous about going door to door," she confides, "but it's a cause I believe in. It's the notion of what would happen to the land and all life. If nuclear war happens, I hope the bomb hits right here because I don't want to live to see it."

The strength of the antinuclear sentiment is especially surprising in the South, considering the region's traditional conservatism and its dependence on the military for its livelihood. In at least six of the region's states, the largest single employer is the Department of Defense. The board of supervisors in Loudoun County, Va., adopted a nuclear-freeze resolution last week, and Atlanta Mayor Andrew Young has signed his city's petition. Physicians for Social Responsibility has 16 chapters in the South; last year there were none. Says South Carolina Lieutenant Governor

Nancy Stevenson, whose state is home to a Poseidon missile factory and the nation's only weapons-grade plutonium plant: "These installations have been here for years, but I do think our people are now uncomfortably aware that South Carolina plays a far greater role than we would wish in nuclear matters." Even more remarkable has been the reception given to four saffron-clad Buddhist monks from Japan, who are trudging along highways in the South chanting prayers of peace. The monks believe that the ground they cross will be protected from nuclear war; they began their pilgrimage from New Orleans last January and hope to reach New York City by June. "We have been met with great interest," said Jinju Moorishita last week, after being greeted by 150 well-wishers who walked to the outskirts of Athens, Ga., in a gesture of welcome. "People do not ignore us."

Religious leaders and groups have played an increasingly important role in the movement. At least 70 Roman Catholic bishops (of the 368 in the U.S.) have spoken out against the arms race or in favor of a nuclear freeze, and the hierarchy's umbrella organization, the National Conference of Catholic Bishops, plans to vote on a major statement about nuclear war at its annual meeting in November. Bishop Leroy Matthiesen of Amarillo, Texas, has even urged Catholics working at a nearby nuclear-weapons assembly plant to consider switching jobs, and has set up a $10,000 fund to help workers who quit the plant for moral reasons.

Protestant churches have been equally outspoken. The National Council of Churches, which represents 40 million Protestants, supports a bilateral nuclear freeze. The 1.6 million-member American Baptist Churches declared in December that "the presence of nuclear weapons and the willingness to use them is a direct affront to our Christian beliefs and commitments." Even members of the evangelical movement, which has been generally noted for its political conservatism, have raised their voices against the arms buildup. Says the Rev. Kim Crutchfield of the Chapel Hill Harvester Church, a Pentecostal church in Atlanta: "We are not talking about Russians or Chinese or Americans, but people, God's children. It is right that Christians be concerned with nuclear war, because nuclear war threatens God's kingdom on earth."

Two organizations--and their leaders--exemplify the passions and concerns of the nuclear-freeze movement:

> Ground Zero was founded in late 1980 by Roger Molander, 40, who served as a nuclear-strategy specialist on the National Security Council from 1974 to 1981. He was closely involved with U.S. policy formation during the SALT negotiations. Ground Zero has a paid staff often at its Washington headquarters and 400 volunteers in 140 cities across the nation. The organization is strictly educational and takes no position on any disarmament proposals. As its founder puts it, the purpose of Ground Zero is "to pose the straightforward questions across the country as to precisely what is the reality and what are the dangers of a nuclear war." Molander hopes that Ground Zero Week (April 18-25) will be for the nuclear movement what Earth Day was for the cause of environmentalism--the catalytic launching of a mass effort to engage the nation in discussions on the threat of nuclear war. Although the focus of the week will be on seminars and lectures, the group is also mailing out kits to local coordinators with directions on where to place Ground Zero markers and details of the effects of a 1-megaton bomb dropped on their city or town.

Molander believes that the Reagan Administration has fanned fears of a nuclear war, but he is careful not to link his group with any partisan movement. Says Molander: "What we seek is a public active enough in the dialogue about nuclear war that they will feel compelled to work with the Government in coming up with solutions, whether it be disarmament, a freeze or some other option. The ball is rolling, and we want to give it momentum."

> Physicians for Social Responsibility was a moribund organization devoted to detailing the medical consequences of nuclear war when Helen Caldicott, 43, then a pediatrician at Children's Hospital Medical Center in Boston, took over as president in 1979. A zealous opponent of all things nuclear, Caldicott took her message all over the country, and her hellfire oratory soon attracted a following. Since then, membership in P.S.R. has grown from ten doctors to 11,000, and the Boston-based organization now boasts a 22-member staff, 85 chapters in 45 states and a $600,000 annual budget.

P.S.R. may be the most effective group in the antinuclear movement. "Our credibility is as a scientific, single-issue organization," says Director Thomas Halsted. "Our issue is nuclear war and its medical consequences. That's it." In an ongoing series of symposiums across the country, members lecture about the horrific consequences of a 20-megaton bomb explosion, from the moment of impact to the long-term effects of radiation sickness. "As soon as you dwell on the effects of a nuclear bomb," says Halsted, "the coffee cups stop rattling."

P.S.R. backs a bilateral nuclear freeze, but Caldicott sees that proposal as only a first step. "No one has the absolute answer," she admits, "but the issue of nuclear war will reach a critical mass, and from that will emerge a solution. We must continue stirring the pot, for the issue is survival."

Advocates of a bilateral nuclear-weapons freeze contend that the plan makes sense, since both the U.S. and the Soviet Union already have large enough arsenals to annihilate each other's populations many times over. Supporters also reject the charge made by hawkish critics that the movement is ultimately a pacifist one that plays into the hands of the Soviets. They point out that the freeze proposal calls for verification. Critics, however, respond by claiming that a freeze on "testing, production and further deployment" of nuclear weapons cannot be verified without on-site inspection, which Moscow has always resisted. Beyond that, a President pushed into negotiations with Moscow by the force of a populist movement, even in the name of a morally just cause, would be at an enormous disadvantage in trying to deal with leaders of a totalitarian society who knew in advance the limits of his maneuverability.

It is too early to assess the domestic political impact of the antinuclear sentiment. Although impressive in size, the movement is still rather amorphous and politically unorganized. Democrats are pinning much of the blame on Reagan for the growing fears of nuclear war, and White House aides admit that indiscreet statements by the President and some of his key aides may have contributed to the anxiety. But Administration officials offer no apologies for their talk of a defense buildup, and do not plan to retreat. Says one White House adviser: "One of the prices you pay for raising the specter of Soviet nuclear superiority is that you make people face up to the nature of the dangers we are facing."

Both Democrats and Republicans agree that the antinuclear sentiment is growing as a political issue. In Washington, at least, it is not yet seen as a truly pivotal issue, like the state of the economy, for this fall's election. "It is more like the environmental movement of the 1970s than the antiwar movement of the 1960s," says Robert Neuman, director of communications for the Democratic National Committee. "It is confrontational, and will probably not become a Democratic or Republican issue." Says Republican Political Consultant David Keene: "It's like motherhood and apple pie. Who's going to be in favor of nuclear war?"

Some political observers believe that Reagan could defuse the movement--or co-opt it--by sitting down to negotiate with the Soviets. Some supporters of the initiative secretly hope that will happen. Only a proven anti-Communist like Richard Nixon could have opened the door to mainland China in the early 1970s without causing a divisive national debate. Similarly, the argument goes, only a President as strong on national defense as Reagan could bargain with the Kremlin on nuclear arms in the early 1980s. That, indeed, may be the idea whose time has come.

--By James Kelly. Reported by Benjamin W. Cate/Los Angeles and B.J. Phillips/Atlanta, with other bureaus

With reporting by Benjamin W. Cate, B.J. Phillips, other bureaus

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