Once in a Lifetime

On October 11, 1986, in Reykjavik, Iceland, history came to a turning point. It was there and then that the opportunity arose to end the superpower arms race and move toward the abolition of nuclear weapons. But it was a turning point upon which history failed to turn because when the hour of decision arrived, the Reagan administration turned its back on this new possibility.

No one expected the Reykjavik summit to turn into an epochal event. But in retrospect we can see some of the factors that helped create a historic moment. The hastily conceived meeting came at a time when both leaders badly needed a success in nuclear arms control. President Reagan was facing a growing congressional rebellion against his military policies and the fear that his party would lose control of the Senate in the November elections. For his part Gorbachev was facing pressure from Soviet "hawks" over the apparent failure of his 14-month-long unilateral nuclear warhead testing moratorium and international embarrassment over the Daniloff affair.

In addition to these compelling political factors, the Reykjavik summit came at a time when the terms of arms control discussion were in a radical state of flux. For 40 years arms control had consisted mostly of managing the incremental growth of the nuclear arsenals and monitoring the mutual introduction of deadly new technologies. But in the last five years, that consensual process of staged escalations has broken down. One powerful faction of the Reagan administration came into office with the conviction that arms control was an illusion and that the only security for the United States lay in lopsided military superiority. To adherents of this view, we have little to discuss with the Soviets except the terms of their eventual surrender.

This view has a strong emotional appeal to President Reagan. But in the early years of his presidency, Reagan's instinctive hatred of the Soviet Union and deep fondness for military power was balanced by the shrewd judgment of a politician faced with millions of citizens marching and voting for peace. In 1983 Reagan seized upon Star Wars as a visionary synthesis that could allow him to maintain a complete and durable state of military superiority over the Soviets while also claiming to eliminate the threat of nuclear war.

Reagan's "peace shield" visions have rarely intersected with technical, economic, or political reality. And his less visionary advisers have generally admitted that Star Wars will be an additional component of our warfighting arsenal and not a replacement for it. But the very fact of a U.S. president speaking openly about doing away with nuclear deterrence tended to alter the environment, for better or worse.

When Mikhail Gorbachev assumed power in the Soviet Union, he understood this fact and accepted the challenge. Gorbachev's tenure has been marked by a series of bold, creative, and well-timed initiatives aimed at moving beyond arms control and toward substantial nuclear disarmament, including a unilateral moratorium on weapons by the year 2000.

BY THE TIME the two superpower chieftains departed for Iceland, the arms control agenda had shifted from technical minutiae to dramatic gestures that five years ago were unthinkable outside the confines of the peace movement. And once their meeting was under way, from whatever combination of factors, a surprising momentum took hold.

The Soviets made a series of unprecedented concessions, even unconditionally agreeing to Reagan's "zero option" on Euromissiles. And for a while the Reagan administration appeared ready to make a deal. Perhaps both sides were bluffing all the way through. But eventually the stakes got so high that there was on the table a proposal to substantially cut the number of warheads on each side in the next five years and to eliminate all strategic missile systems within 10 years.

For the first time since the atomic curse was unleashed on Hiroshima, the world stood at the brink not of war but of genuine disarmament. Faced eyeball to eyeball with the challenge of peace, President Reagan blinked.

Like every other arms race discussion since 1983, the Reykjavik talks eventually came down to Star Wars. The Soviets demanded that Star Wars research and testing be restricted to the laboratory for the 10-year duration of the disarmament process and that its possible deployment be the subject of new negotiations at the end of that period. President Reagan agreed only to forego deployment for 10 years. Since there will not be anything to deploy for at least that long, the Reagan position amounted to a rejection of any meaningful restrictions on space weaponry.

Since President Reagan claims that Star Wars is intended to be a system to defend against Soviet missiles, one might logically ask what use it would be after the missiles on both sides were dismantled. The only answer the Reagan administration has given is "for insurance." But what Reagan calls "insurance" looks to the Soviets like a demand for unconditional surrender.

One factor that is often overlooked in discussions of the "Strategic Defense Initiative" is its potential as a new kind of offensive weapons system, both for nuclear warfighting and for a future age of space-based laser warfare. Even in the world without nuclear missiles briefly glimpsed at Reykjavik, Star Wars weapons could still be used to devastating effect in an attack on the Soviet Union.The laser- and particle-beam weapons currently under development are being designed for use against targets in space that could include Soviet communications satellites. And the planned space-based battle stations could probably be used to destroy targets on the ground with much greater speed and accuracy than any of the current missile systems.

Under Reagan's proposal, Star Wars would guarantee an enormous one-sided head start for the United States in what would inevitably become the next phase of the arms race. That is hardly a good-faith proposal for mutual security.

THE REYKJAVIK TALKS ultimately faltered not on any fine points of technology or diplomacy but on a basic question of philosophy. To accept a proposal to eliminate strategic missiles, one must believe that some level of peaceful accommodation among human beings and nations is desirable and, under the right circumstances, possible. That ultimately is what President Reagan rejects. In his geopolitical universe, there seems to be little room for concepts like equality, cooperation, or mutual interests. There is only dominance, submission, and coercion.

In the wake of the summit, a few things are clear for those of us who will continue the struggle for nuclear disarmament. Most important is the fact that, despite the failure at Reykjavik, the terms of the nuclear weapons debate have shifted. The question of abolition is no longer a starry-eyed, peacenik dream. It is now a serious proposal that must be given serious consideration at the highest levels of government. That creates an important opening that could easily close again if the grassroots peace movements do not capitalize on it.

The summit also demonstrated the urgent need for grassroots pressure, from lobbying to direct action, to obstruct and turn back the Star Wars program. But as part of that effort we will also have to challenge the ideological vision which Star Wars serves.

We must clearly articulate the historic choice facing America. Either we will try to live at peace, as a nation among other nations, or we will squander our resources, our ideals, and perhaps billions of lives chasing the tragic illusion of technological security.

Danny Duncan Collum is a Sojourners contributing editor.

This appears in the December 1986 issue of Sojourners