Memories
of those terrifying times are being revived by the war in Ukraine.
Vladimir Putin, Russia’s president, has repeatedly warned that he could
resort to nuclear weapons. On September 21st he said he would use “all
weapons systems available” to defend the “territorial integrity” of
Russia—by implication including all the Ukrainian land he is annexing
through sham referendums. ”It’s not a bluff,” said Mr Putin. In response
Jake Sullivan, America’s national security adviser, sternly warned
Russia of “catastrophic consequences” if it used nuclear weapons.
The
world thus faces what may be the worst period of nuclear peril since
Cuba, says Daryl Kimball of the Arms Control Association, an American
lobby group. Russian commentators have drawn explicit parallels between
the crises. Both were caused by insecurity provoked by a rival’s
expansion “right to the doorstep of one’s own country: Cuba then,
Ukraine now”, writes Dmitri Trenin, a Russian analyst, on the
state-owned rt website.
This
time, though, things are different in several important ways. The Cuban
crisis lasted 13 days. The war in Ukraine is more than 200 days old,
and could last for hundreds more. In Cuba the nukes themselves were the
crux of the matter. In Ukraine they are a shield to protect a Russian
land-grab. And the nature of the threat has changed with Russia’s
fortunes on the battlefield. At first, Western officials worried about
nuclear escalation resulting from Russian success. If it took Ukraine,
might it push further into the Baltic states, or strike at nato
depots that were supplying weapons to Ukrainian forces? That could have
led to a conventional war, which might have escalated into a nuclear
one.
Now the worry is about Russian
failures. Ukrainian troops have retaken thousands of square miles of
territory; a mobilisation at home has pushed hundreds of thousands of
Russians to protest or flee. In the 1960s neither John F. Kennedy nor
Nikita Khrushchev, the American and Soviet leaders, wanted a nuclear
war. Now, some worry that a flailing Mr Putin might be tempted to gamble
that nuclear weapons could help reverse his misfortune.
The
Cuban missile crisis was largely about “strategic” nuclear weapons—the
biggest sort, designed to wipe out enemy cities far from the
battlefield. The question in Ukraine revolves mainly around the
non-strategic, or “tactical” kind. These are of shorter range and lower
explosive power. (Many are nevertheless more powerful than the atomic
bombs used against Japan in the second world war).
America
and the Soviet Union once maintained huge arsenals of tactical warheads
for use against each others’ armies on the plains of Europe. In the
decades after the cold war, nato gave up all but around
200 of its stockpile, concluding that precision-guided conventional
weapons could do the job more cheaply and with fewer complications.
Russia’s armed forces held on to 2,000 or so. Nuclear weapons can make
up for weaker conventional forces. “The power balance matters less than
the willingness to use nukes,” says Francis Gavin, a historian at Johns
Hopkins University. “That creates an incentive to be irresponsible.”
Experts
see three main ways in which Russia might use a nuclear weapon: a
“demonstration shot” that does not kill anyone; a strike on Ukraine; and
an attack on nato. Russia might start on the “escalation
ladder” by conducting nuclear tests, either underground or, more
dramatically, in the atmosphere. This could be over the Black Sea or
high above Ukraine itself, avoiding deaths but causing an
electromagnetic pulse that would fry electrical equipment. But if
Ukraine kept on fighting despite the demonstration, Russia would incur
global opprobrium for no military gain.
Russian
generals might prefer to nuke military objectives directly, not least
because the Russian army is short of manpower and materiel. Targets
could include Ukrainian airfields, logistics hubs and concentrations of
artillery, says Ben Barry of the International Institute for Strategic
Studies, a British think-tank. Yet Ukraine’s forces are mostly
dispersed, and armies can be surprisingly resilient. One study examining
a hypothetical war between India and Pakistan estimated that a
five-kiloton bomb (about a third the size of the one dropped on
Hiroshima) would knock out just 13 tanks if they were widely spread. Mr
Barry reckons four tactical weapons would be needed to neutralise a
Ukrainian brigade (roughly 3,000-5,000 soldiers) even if it was
concentrated for an offensive.
More
destructively still, Russia might choose to attack a Ukrainian city to
force a surrender. But this raises the possibility of a direct nato intervention and the destruction of Russia’s armies. A nuclear attack on nato
would be a potentially suicidal proposition, given that three of its
members—America, Britain and France—have nuclear weapons of their own.
Tactics and strategy
Every
option, in other words, comes with big downsides. “It is very hard to
make nuclear threats work,” notes Eric Edelman, a former under-secretary
for policy at the Pentagon. At times during the cold war—in the Korean
war, for instance—America toyed with using nuclear weapons but decided
against it as morally repugnant, militarily useless or dangerous.
But
responding to nuclear threats is hard, too. Deterrence rests on a great
deal of ambiguity. American officials will not say publicly what they
mean by “catastrophic consequences”, though it hints at the risk of a
direct clash between Russia and America. But they claim to have been
explicit in private warnings to the Kremlin, and have told journalists
that the response is likely to be conventional, not nuclear. In doing
so, complains Mr Edelman, “they are undermining the deterrent threat.”
America’s
warnings are aimed at Russia, America’s allies and the American public.
It must be seen to take the threat seriously but not be intimidated; it
must respond in a way that is vague yet credible. Whatever happens with
Russia will affect its contest with China, not least over Taiwan. Thus
far, President Joe Biden has tried to balance two principles: help
Ukraine defend itself, but avoid a third world war. If the Russians
detonate nuclear weapons, he has said that the response will depend “on
the extent of what they do”.
One
option would be to pile more economic pressure on Russia, perhaps
through secondary sanctions on those buying its oil and gas, with the
hope of turning Mr Putin into even more of an international pariah.
America could push India and China to isolate Russia. Both have
obliquely signalled disapproval of its conduct in the war. But India
relies on Russia for weapons, and China sees it as a useful
counter-balance to America.
Another
option would be for the West to help Ukraine fight in a nuclear
battlefield, by providing advice, protective gear and decontamination
equipment. It could also supply more advanced arms—such as Western-made
tanks, fighter jets and longer-ranged missiles—that have thus far been
deemed too escalatory. At the other end of the scale, America, Britain
or France could respond with a limited nuclear strike of their own. But
that risks a wider nuclear war—and Russia has more tactical nukes than
its Western rivals.
The middle way—a conventional military response—is the likeliest. This might include deploying nato
troops to Ukraine, or carrying out direct strikes on Russian targets.
America could, for instance, destroy the ports, air bases, or mobile
missile launchers used in any Russian nuclear attack. Ben Hodges, a
retired general who once commanded American ground forces in Europe,
suggests sinking Russia’s Black Sea fleet, or destroying its bases in
Crimea.
Mr
Putin, though, could raise the ante. He might launch a counter-strike
against comparable targets—American warships in the Mediterranean, say,
or military facilities on nato soil. In other words, even a conventional response could easily bring about a direct nato-Russia conflict, with its attendant risk of nuclear war.
All
of which raises the question: would America really run such risks for
the sake of Ukraine, which is not a formal military ally? Barack Obama,
who as president refused to arm Ukraine, argued that Russia, in the end,
cared more about Ukraine more than America did, saying “we have to be
very clear about what our core interests are and what we are willing to
go to war for.”
Those who favour
standing by Ukraine offer two responses. The first is that the risks are
less acute than they seem. Russia is in no position to fight a
conventional war against America and its 29 nato allies; a
nuclear war would risk the total destruction of both sides. The second
riposte is that the risks are worth it. Allowing Russia to use nuclear
blackmail to seize territory would encourage autocrats everywhere to do
the same. “That would be a terrible world to live in. The cost of
stopping it later is higher than stopping it at the outset,” argues Mr
Edelman.
For now, to everyone’s great relief, deterrence is holding. Mr Putin has not used nuclear weapons, nor is nato
fighting in Ukraine. America says it has seen no evidence of Russia
readying its nuclear armaments for use. America and Russia are
continuing to exchange information about their respective strategic
arsenals.
For Max Hastings,
author of “Abyss”, a new history of the Cuban crisis, the main lesson of
1962 also applies to 2022: “Be afraid.” What averted a cataclysm was
Kennedy’s and Khruschev’s fear of nuclear war. America’s success was the
product of Kennedy’s sober mixture of resolve and a willingness to
compromise in private. That suggests the West should continue to help
Ukraine defend itself while “recognising that somewhere along the line
it will probably end up with a dirty deal” to end the war, argues Mr
Hastings.
The trouble is that, at the
moment, Mr Putin is raising the stakes, not seeking a deal. His
annexation of Ukrainian territory and mobilisation of extra troops risks
elevating a “special military operation”, which can be ended whenever
he chooses, into a war for Russian soil, which he must win or lose.
Unlike the collective Soviet leadership of 1962, which imposed some
moderation, Mr Putin’s underlings seem powerless to restrain him. He has
long equated his own rule with Russia’s existence. In 2018, he spoke in
near-mystical terms about using nuclear weapons to defend Russia: “We,
the victims of aggression, as martyrs, will go to heaven, while they
will just die, because they will not even have time to repent.” Thus the
world watches another nuclear crisis unfold: will Mr Putin cut his
losses, fight on, or take the biggest risk of all? ■
This article appeared in the International section of the print edition under the headline "Climbing the ladder"