Operation Moonglow

by Teasel Muir-Harmony

  In the years following Van Allen’s dinner party in 1950, numerous scientists, engineers, and military leaders looked into the advantages of—and issues surrounding—establishing an American satellite program. Manhattan Project scientist Aristid V. Grosse prepared a report that he shared with the top levels of the Truman administration, warning of the psychological repercussions if the Soviet Union achieved the first satellite in orbit. The report predicted that a Soviet first in space “would be a serious blow to the technical and engineering prestige of America the world over. It would be used by Soviet propaganda for all it’s worth.”37 In a similar vein, German rocket engineer Wernher von Braun’s 1954 report “A Minimum Satellite Vehicle” also noted the scientific benefits of satellites and recognized that “it would be a blow to U.S. prestige if we did not do it first.”38 The American Rocket Society requested funding from the National Science Foundation (NSF) for a satellite program. And throughout this period scientists involved in the IGY continued moving their satellite program proposal through the necessary government channels.39

  As conversations about satellites permeated scientific and military institutions’ hallways, populated memos, and filled reports, it was the looming possibility of a surprise attack from the USSR, and its broader implications, that troubled President Eisenhower. The Soviet Union had detonated a hydrogen bomb in August 1953. A few months later, US reconnaissance detected signs of Soviet intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) development in full swing. By the fall of 1954, Eisenhower wanted to know how well the US could respond to the latest Soviet weapons systems. He assigned James Killian, president of the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, to lead the Technological Capabilities Panel (TCP) in a study of “Meeting the Threat of Surprise Attack.” Completed six months later, in February 1955, the highly secret “Killian Report” included an assessment of satellites for reconnaissance.

  Although spy satellites seemed a technology of the distant future, Killian and others recommended the development of a civilian satellite program. They reasoned that a scientific satellite could help establish the legality of overflight of other nations’ territory, essentially clearing the way for reconnaissance satellites when the time came.40 In the mid-1950s, international law prohibited overflight of nonassenting nations. US planes flying too close to Soviet airspace were regularly fired upon. But no one had drawn a sharp line of where airspace ended and outer space began. Whereas an American aircraft flying over Soviet territory constituted a clear violation of international law, the case of orbiting satellites—beyond the reach of airplanes—was unclear. A civilian satellite, Killian and others noted, might draw that line, establishing the legality of overflight and setting an indispensable precedent for US reconnaissance satellites.41

  The CIA’s comments on the Killian Report are worth highlighting. They zeroed in on the psychological import of looming satellite launches, identifying more than the significance of spy applications: “The nation that first accomplishes this feat will gain incalculable prestige and recognition throughout the world.” Five full paragraphs wrestle with the “psychological warfare value” of satellite technology. In contrast, the intelligence dimensions receive just one paragraph in this commentary.42

  The task of evaluating the benefits of a US satellite program first fell to Donald Quarles, the deputy secretary of defense for R&D. Known as an earnest man with a “quiet efficiency and pleasant manner,” Quarles worked at Western Electric and Bell Laboratories before joining the Eisenhower administration in 1953.43 He brought his skills as a research engineer, scientist, and manager to overseeing the buildup of the US missile program. “His outstanding characteristic,” New York Times reporter Jack Raymond observed, “was his great appetite for work.”44 He abstained from cigarettes and alcohol, and only on occasion drank watered-down coffee. His one display of anger and frustration amounted to throwing a pencil at his desk.45 Critics found him too single-minded in his approach to defense strategy, overemphasizing bombs and missiles, but Defense Secretary Charles A. Wilson found him indispensable. Wilson relied on Quarles for his technical assessment of new weaponry development, an expertise that positioned him well when the question of establishing a US satellite program arose.46

  Quarles held the unique position of knowing about all major satellite proposals and reports as well as the classified Air Force and TCP investigations. In addition, he was aware of the extremely secret U-2 spy plane, a program so highly classified that in 1955 only four people at the White House knew of its existence. As the TCP report stressed, the future of American intelligence efforts such as the U-2 required the “freedom of space.” After being briefed on the TCP report, Quarles encouraged scientists working on the IGY to formally submit their satellite proposal to the National Security Council. NSF Director Alan T. Waterman and the others involved in the IGY remained unaware of the classified reports, and the larger concerns over American reconnaissance, as Quarles shepherded the IGY scientific satellite proposal through a complicated process of bureaucratic support to advance it.47

  Even though three satellite program proposals waited for presidential approval—the IGY proposal and two military programs—the Eisenhower administration was slow to move forward with supporting a satellite program until US government officials felt the pressure of being second in space. It was not until the Soviet Union announced the creation of an interplanetary commission on April 16, 1955, that the Eisenhower administration began to take swifter action. Even though the announcement, made in the pages of the Moscow newspaper Vecherniaia Moskva (Evening Moscow), was bland and understated, the American press immediately picked up the news. Reactions to the Soviet announcement put pressure on the Eisenhower administration to finally settle on the issue of satellite development.48

  Before Quarles submitted the proposal outlining a national policy for launching an artificial satellite as part of the IGY to the NSC in May 1955, he sent it to Nelson Rockefeller. A billionaire businessman with a longtime dedication to public service, Rockefeller had accepted the somewhat loosely defined position of special assistant for cold war strategy to President Eisenhower in January of that year. The position suited him. As Henry Kissinger once observed, “Of all the public figures I have known he retained the most absolute, almost touching, faith in the power of ideas.”49 He brought this appreciation for the “power of ideas” to international affairs, injecting questions of prestige and psychological strategy into policy discussions. Almost immediately, the ambitious Rockefeller expanded his White House portfolio, encroaching on the State Department’s domain, including oversight of covert operations for the NSC.50

  A steadfast cold warrior, Rockefeller supported a scientific satellite program, reasoning that “the stake of prestige that is involved makes this a race we cannot afford to lose.”51 In the memo he attached to Quarles’s proposal, Rockefeller emphasized the “costly consequences of allowing the Russian initiative to outrun ours through an achievement that will symbolize scientific and technological advancement to peoples everywhere.” He cautioned against launching a simple, unsophisticated satellite before the Soviet Union, explaining that a complex scientific satellite would be much better from a prestige standpoint. Rockefeller theorized that the Soviet Union would initiate “vigorous propaganda… to exploit all possible derogatory implications” of an American satellite. For this reason, the United States must pursue a program “least vulnerable to effective criticism.” If the satellite was under the auspices of the IGY, he emphasized, its association with military technology would be far less likely. Furthermore, the US, Rockefeller wrote, should share with the world all the data gained through a scientific satellite. By making these data open, the American satellite program would seem peaceful and scientific, divorcing it from military associations.52

  On May 26 the National Security Council endorsed Quarles’s recommendation for an IGY scientific satellite project, incorporating all of Rockefeller’s provisions as well.53 After stating the feasibility of launching a
satellite during the IGY, the draft of the policy (NSC 5520) highlighted some of the scientific data that could be collected from a satellite and then noted that “considerable prestige and psychological benefits will accrue to the nation which first is successful in launching a satellite.” The significant repercussions could include the political alliance of other nations, a central concern during the cold war. The Soviet Union was already well under way on its own spaceflight program. If the United States did not act quickly, the balance of power could be at risk, the report warned. NSC 5520 summed up the threat: “The inference of such a demonstration of advanced technology and its unmistakable relationship to intercontinental ballistic missile technology might have important repercussions on the political determination of free world countries to resist Communist threats, especially if the USSR were to be first to establish a satellite.” A small scientific satellite, the committee acknowledged, could also test the “freedom of space,” which was seen as essential to the prospect of any future legality questions regarding military reconnaissance programs. The IGY, NSC 5520 suggested, presented “an excellent opportunity” for the United States to enter the Space Age under the aegis of a peaceful, open, scientific endeavor, clearing the way for other uses of satellite technology.54 President Eisenhower asked the council if the United States should pursue a scientific satellite program, and everyone agreed in the affirmative.55

  On a time line overlapping and intersecting with these satellite discussions, President Eisenhower prepared for the Geneva Summit, set to begin on July 18, 1955. The leaders of Britain, France, the Soviet Union, and the United States would gather for the first time since the cold war began. With Soviet leader Joseph Stalin’s death in 1953 and Nikita Khrushchev’s rise to power in the spring of 1955, improved East-West relations seemed like a possibility. Although skeptical of the summit at first, Eisenhower recognized that if he did not attend, it might appear that the United States was not truly invested in the cause of peace. For the six weeks ahead of the summit, Eisenhower’s security staff prepared the president for the USSR’s potential proposals, such as the reunification of Germany or demilitarizing Europe. Keeping in mind that Geneva would be on the international stage for a stretch of days in July, Eisenhower’s staff struggled with the issue of nuclear arms control, the major issue at the forefront of the world public’s minds.56

  Before Eisenhower flew to Geneva in mid-July 1955, Rockefeller gathered eminent academics for a “pre-summit summit” to assess “the current international relations situation,” with an eye to prestige and psychological warfare. Eisenhower’s confidence in Rockefeller threatened both Secretary of State John Foster Dulles as well as his under secretary, Herbert Hoover Jr. But Rockefeller was undeterred by their prickliness, advancing his own approach to cold war grand strategy at every opportunity. Bypassing Dulles, Rockefeller’s carefully chosen roomful of experts drafted “Quantico I,” a document outlining an ambitious disarmament package and plans for economic development. The proposal called for “mutual aerial observation” or “Open Skies”: for mutual assurance that neither country prepared for a surprise attack. Rockefeller urged Eisenhower to introduce Open Skies at the Geneva Summit.

  At Dulles’s advice, Eisenhower resisted Rockefeller’s proposal at first: “I doubt [the Soviet Union] will agree to it… because secrecy means so much to them… they see secrecy as a great strength.” Rockefeller assured Eisenhower that no matter what happened, proposing Open Skies would benefit the United States. If the Soviets agreed, it would give “the U.S. a decided intelligence advantage.” If not, then the United States would gain “a decided public opinion advantage” by putting American openness and Soviet secrecy in sharp relief. After meeting with the NSC and reviewing European public polls favoring a reduction in US-USSR tensions, Eisenhower eventually agreed with Rockefeller. Open Skies had the potential to transform the image of America from “a warmonger with an atomic bomb,” as Rockefeller put it, to a peace-seeking global leader. Eisenhower would propose Open Skies in Geneva.57

  As Rockefeller, Eisenhower, and many others in Washington had predicted, the Soviet delegation rejected the “Open Skies” proposal. But news stories printed around the world cheered the “spirit of Geneva,” heralding the United States’ hope for peaceful coexistence. The USIA took up this “spirit of Geneva” theme in films, glossy magazines, exhibits, pamphlets, and other propaganda programming: the United States was committed to peace.58

  Following Geneva, Eisenhower called a meeting with Quarles and Waterman. Now he was fully committed to an American satellite program aligned with the IGY, he told them. Not only would it address the issue of “freedom of space”; this international, peaceful, and open scientific approach would also secure US prestige.59 At the end of July, White House Press Secretary James Hagerty issued a brief statement announcing the White House’s approval of a scientific satellite program as part of the US participation in the IGY. Stressing the international character of the endeavor, the statement explained that “the President expressed personal gratification that the American program will provide scientists of all nations this important and unique opportunity for the advancement of science.”60

  The news spread rapidly. A USIA opinion poll in the United Kingdom, France, West Germany, Italy, Austria, and Belgium found that awareness of the satellite announcement was widespread, although many people expressed their skepticism.61

  Reminiscent of the response to the Soviet Union’s announcement of an interplanetary commission the previous April, the US announcement of a satellite program prompted what might be considered a chain reaction within the Soviet Union. While attending a conference in Copenhagen a few days after the White House press release, Leonid Sedov, chairman of the Soviet interplanetary commission, held a press conference at the Soviet Embassy. He announced that “the realization of the Soviet project can be expected in the comparatively near future.” The international press sensationalized Sedov’s claims the following day. On August 3 the New York Times headline read “Soviet Planning Early Satellite: Russian Expert in Denmark Says Success in 2 Years Is ‘Quite Possible,’” while the Los Angeles Times warned that “Russians Claim They’ll Launch First Satellite.”62

  Since 1954, Korolev and his fellow missile designers and spaceflight enthusiasts had been campaigning for the Soviet government to support the development of a satellite program, emphasizing both the security value and scientific value of spaceflight. In historian Asif Siddiqi’s assessment, news coverage of Eisenhower’s announcement “provided the final weapon, international prestige, that Korolev, [Mikhail] Tikhonravov, and others needed to convince the top leadership of the importance of the satellite project.”63 They assembled the international news coverage, prepared a summary report, and claimed to Soviet leadership that their satellite could beat the United States into space. Shrewdly, Korolev added a line to emphasize the soft power potential of a satellite, explaining that it “would have enormous political significance as evidence of the high development level of our country’s technology.”64 On August 8, 1955, the Politburo met and gave approval for a scientific satellite program that would use an R-7 ICBM.65

  Meanwhile, back in the United States, the Stewart Committee, an advisory group formed by Quarles, selected the proposal for an American scientific satellite. The committee had been meeting since early July to assess potential programs. On August 3, 1955, it voted for the Naval Research Laboratory’s Vanguard program over the Army’s Orbiter program. It was a close decision, highly contingent on a mix of personal agendas and happenstance. The Vanguard program appeared to use a superior satellite, was on a quicker schedule, and had the image of a civilian scientific program instead of a military enterprise.66

  By May 1957, as the beginning of the IGY inched closer, the NSC questioned the rising costs of the satellite program. When the NSC had advanced the satellite proposal two years earlier, in May 1955, the estimated cost was $15–$20 million. The committee now faced a $110 million price tag. Eisenhowe
r criticized the US satellite program scientists for focusing too much on instrumentation for multiple satellites while their real goal should be beating the Soviets to space, explaining that “the element of national prestige, so strongly emphasized in NSC 5520, depended on getting a satellite into orbit, and not on the instrumentation of the scientific satellite.”67 CIA Director Allen Dulles, briefing the group on the latest intelligence, observed that “if the Soviets succeeded in orbiting a scientific satellite and the United States did not even try to… the USSR would have achieved a propaganda weapon which they could use to boast the superiority of Soviet scientists.” He also stressed that if the US canceled its scientific satellite program, it might become fodder for USSR propaganda suggesting that the United States invested in military programs, not civilian spaceflight programs. It came down to prestige, added the assistant secretary of state.68

  The pressure of being first in space—and the stakes of prestige—also weighed on the Soviet program. Earlier in the year, after delays developing the proposed satellite—Object D—a colleague asked Korolev, “What if we make the satellite a little lighter?” In a letter to the government, Korolev explained the necessity of the revision: “The United States is conducting very intensive plans for launching an artificial Earth satellite.” It was sparing no cost, he stressed. The United States “is willing to pay any price to achieve this priority.”69 The new, smaller satellites received approval. Designated Simple Satellite No. 1 (PS-1), Sputnik, as PS-1 would become known across the world in October 1957, had a better chance of beating the American Vanguard program into space.70 Ever attuned to politics and history, and tense from working around the clock the whole summer of 1957, Korolev yelled at the chief engineer on the assembly shop floor. But his anger was not about the quality of Sputnik’s production. Instead, he was concerned about the aesthetics of the mock-up satellite’s shiny surface. “This ball will be exhibited in museums!” Korolev presciently observed.71