Accessory to War

by Neil DeGrasse Tyson

  Among the resolutions, PAROS—Prevention of an Arms Race in Outer Space—is of considerable interest. Its several-decade history highlights America’s preference for stonewalling on disarmament. First presented in December 1981 as a plea for measures and guarantees that would deepen those delineated in the 1967 Outer Space Treaty, PAROS was reintroduced in essentially the same form every year thereafter until finally, in January 1994, it came to a vote. No country opposed it; the United States alone abstained. Year after year, the General Assembly voted on this resolution. In 1996 and 1997 the United States was joined in abstention by numerous allies, but beginning in 1999 it was joined consistently, either in abstention or in outright opposition, only by Israel, with the occasional addition of Micronesia, the Marshall Islands, or Haiti.151

  Also starting in 1981—and accelerated by US disinformation regarding the Strategic Defense Initiative, coupled with genuine as well as artificially inflated Soviet alarm at SDI and the space shuttle—the Soviet Union asked the UN General Assembly to place on its agenda a Soviet draft treaty that sought to prohibit stationing weapons “of any kind” in outer space. By the summer of 1983, no longer a draft, it bore the title Treaty on the Prohibition of the Use of Force in Outer Space and from Space Against the Earth. In 1984, the USSR proposed further clarifications.

  If just the 1983 provisions had been promulgated as a treaty, its signatories would have been agreeing not to test, place in orbit, or station on celestial bodies “any space-based weapons for the destruction of objects on the Earth, in the atmosphere or in outer space”; not to use already orbiting or already stationed space objects “as means to destroy any targets on the Earth, in the atmosphere or in outer space”; not to “destroy, damage, disturb the normal functioning or change the flight trajectory of space objects of other States”; not to test or create new ASATs and to destroy any ASATs they might already have; and not to test or use manned spacecraft (read: the US space shuttle) for military or ASAT purposes.152

  In 2008, Russia and China, working through the UN’s Conference on Disarmament, presented their draft of a successor to PAROS called the PPWT: Treaty on Prevention of the Placement of Weapons in Outer Space and of the Threat or Use of Force Against Outer Space Objects. Its prospects can be gauged in part by paragraph 34 in a 2015 Russian–Chinese letter describing the lack of useful input from the United States: “instead of constructive proposals on the contents of the draft PPWT, we once again see the appalling attempts of the United States of America to impose on the international community its politicized assessment of the space programmes of certain States.” The United States, they say, is “avoiding having to shoulder any additional international legal obligations as far as outer space is concerned, including in order to ensure that outer space remains free of weapons of any kind” and is doing nothing to “facilitat[e] progress towards a mutually acceptable resolution of issues involving the security of space activities.”153 Rough language from diplomats.

  Other concerned parties made other proposals. A senior German diplomat, Detlev Wolter, drew up detailed guidelines in 2006–2007 for a Treaty on Common Security in Outer Space. Regarding the need for “an explicit prohibition of active and destructive military uses in outer space,” Wolter suggested that signatories “commit themselves to refrain from any deployment or use of any object in space or on Earth, that was designed or modified specifically for the purpose to inflict permanent physical damage on any other object through the projection of mass or energy respectively.” Adding to the explicitness, he also suggested that ballistic missile defense and antisatellite systems be forbidden in outer space, the sole exception to be a UN system whose purpose would be “implementing and enforcing a non-proliferation regime and . . . protecting against unauthorized and accidental missile launches.”154

  Pending ratification of anything that resembles current attempts to consecrate space as a permanent haven of peaceable activity for the common good of all humanity, the centerpiece and foundation of international space law remains the Outer Space Treaty of 1967, “the high-water mark of [the United Nation’s] sponsorship of the demilitarization of outer space.”155 To date, it has been signed and ratified by 105 countries, including not only the United States and Russia but also China, India, Pakistan, Israel, the United Kingdom, Canada, and every country in Western Europe that isn’t a microstate, and has been signed by an additional twenty-five—a total of 130 of the United Nations’ 193 member states as of early 2017.156

  Ideally, ratification should signal that each of these countries recognizes and honors “the common interest of all mankind in the progress of the exploration and use of outer space for peaceful purposes.” But, as with other peace-seeking agreements, it is honored almost as much in the breach as in the observance. Have a look at several of its provisions:

  Article II

  Outer space, including the moon and other celestial bodies, is not subject to national appropriation by claim of sovereignty, by means of use or occupation, or by any other means.

  Article III

  States Parties to the Treaty shall carry on activities in the use and exploration of outer space, including the moon and other celestial bodies, in accordance with international law, including the Charter of the United Nations, in the interest of maintaining international peace and security and promoting international cooperation and understanding.

  Article IV

  States Parties to the Treaty undertake not to place in orbit around the earth any objects carrying nuclear weapons or any other kinds of weapons of mass destruction, install such weapons on celestial bodies, or station such weapons in outer space in any other manner.

  An ordinary person would interpret these clauses as saying that nobody may own or control any part of space, violate the peace there, undermine international cooperation there, or introduce weapons capable of catastrophic damage there.

  Do not assume governments and militaries share that interpretation. The US Air Force, for example, embraces more open-ended guidelines for observance of the Outer Space Treaty (if and when the treaty is mentioned in its documents, which is not always the case).157 Take the Air Force doctrine document Space Operations (2006), which states that although “the space legal regime imposes a few significant constraints, the bulk of this regime provides a great deal of flexibility for military operations in space.” The document then turns Article III of the treaty, regarding the role of international law in the preservation of peace, on its head:

  The right of self-defense, as recognized in the United Nations Charter and more fundamentally in customary international law, applies in outer space. Also, law of war precepts such as necessity, distinction, and proportionality will apply to any military activity in outer space.

  As for Article IV, regarding weapons, the Air Force clarifies that “the placement of weapons other than weapons of mass destruction in outer space is permissible . . . , as is the transit of nuclear weapons, such as ICBMs, through space.” Finally, with regard to the treaty’s overall goal of upholding peace, it asserts:

  The majority of nations have traditionally held that the “peaceful purposes” language does not prohibit military activities in outer space; such activities have taken place throughout the space age without significant international protest. The phrase, rather, has been interpreted to require that activities in space be non-aggressive . . . to refrain from the threat or use of force except in accordance with the law, such as in self-defense.158

  At the heart of US military objectives is an expansive definition of self-defense—active, not passive. To embrace that definition means the potential use of weapons, and potential use opens the door to an actual program of weaponization.

  In 2002 the RAND Corporation’s Project Air Force division published Space Weapons Earth Wars. Intended as a tutorial for anyone concerned with national security, it focuses on facts, options, feasibilities, tactics, costs, positives, negatives, and possible scenarios.159 Everything you need to know about warmakin
g from space.

  The first sentence informs us that since at least the late 1950s, “the Air Force has espoused the full use of the medium of space for national security.” Hardly a shock that an ambitious air force, anywhere in the world, would view “the medium of space” as part of its workplace and would seek full use rather than limited use. Also hardly a shock that national security is the stated goal and rationale. Who among the sane does not wish that their country and its inhabitants be kept safe and well?

  But national security is a malleable concept. From the US Air Force’s point of view, many national-security uses of space are not open to debate, at least when it’s the United States doing the using. Those uses include communications, environmental monitoring, position location, weather, and warning, as well as intelligence, surveillance, reconnaissance, and weapons guidance. Several of those activities may sound like benign defensive measures meant to protect the state and its citizens. But in fact, all of them possess potential offensive military value as well.

  Early on, the report proposes that the most urgent reason to develop space weapons may be “the possibility that other nations will decide to acquire them.” That’s like saying we’d better not only keep up with the Joneses but also acquire an Olympic-size backyard pool before they do. The report also contends that the military’s periodic statements on doctrine and strategic planning “give space weapons an air of inevitability.”160

  So, picture this: Two adversaries possess weapons capable of immense devastation. Neither side will hesitate to use those weapons to their fullest. Both await a reason to do so—such as an aggressive move by the other side. The likely scenario is inescapable escalation toward a renewed state of mutual assured destruction (MAD), in the course of which the line between defensive and offensive weaponry will be blurry at best. As the political essayist I. F. Stone wrote back in the 1950s, when US–Soviet nuclear war felt almost imminent, “Both sides in every war always claim to be aggressed.”161

  Uncompromisingly hardheaded, Space Weapons Earth Wars simply presents a panoply of available or conceivable options for the waging of space battles. Its brief historical overview takes the militarization of space as axiomatic:

  The use of space in conflict and the use of weapons against space systems are both historical fact and current reality. From its beginning, man’s use of space has included conflict, wars cold and hot: finding targets, warning of threats, relaying commands, aiding navigation, and forecasting weather.162

  If militarization is the basic condition, if all past and current activity in space has a military and therefore potentially aggressive character, then outright weaponization of space is simply a logical extension of an already existing condition. By that line of reasoning, attempts to demilitarize space are naive, and attempts to exclude weapons from it are quixotic. But do everybody’s space weapons have equal access? The United States habitually treats the possession of advanced weaponry by non-allies as an intolerable threat.163 Iran and North Korea are today’s examples.

  The RAND authors take note of accelerating international concern during the 1960s that space be preserved solely for peaceful purposes but have almost nothing to say about the wisdom or likelihood of abiding by the resulting treaties. “[O]ne of the uses of space weapons of current interest to the United States is explicitly illegal,” states their report, with studied evenhandedness. Not that explicitly expressed reservations are entirely absent. On grounds of clear self-interest, for instance, it opposes the use of a deadly space weapon against any high-altitude target carrying biological or chemical agents, because much of the resulting hazardous debris would be broadly dispersed by wind and its harmful effects broadly distributed. “As a deterrent,” warns the report, “the possibility of poisoning one’s own homeland should give a rational actor more reason not to employ such weapons.164 An optimist might contend that nobody except a rational actor would ever be permitted to make such decisions, but anybody who has watched the 1964 movie masterpiece Dr. Strangelove or witnessed the rampant irrationality of the 2016 US presidential campaign is unlikely to agree.

  Joan Johnson-Freese, analyzing what would induce countries without space assets to acquire them, argues that the combined existing, imminent, and projected US space capabilities would make it effectively not only “unassailable and able to impose its will virtually without question” but also capable, if it chose, to undertake “highly intrusive forms of coercion . . . without the burdens of occupation.” After all, space capabilities can readily be repurposed. The same rocket can launch a nuclear-tipped missile or a crop-monitoring satellite; the same adaptive optics can eliminate a star’s twinkle or a laser weapon’s dispersion. Other countries, alarmed by (but also dependent on) America’s abundant space assets, would understandably want to develop their own space assets to help preserve their sovereignty and autonomy. Europe, Japan, France, Israel, China, and others have already gone that route.165

  Keep in mind that a single nation, the United States, far outspends all others on military space systems. We are the big buyer. We are the patron. We’re also the biggest exporter.166 And our own definitions of self-defense lean toward preemption. But beyond that, says the RAND report, “it is conceivable that the United States could decide to acquire space weapons in advance of a specific, compelling threat”—that is, in a deliberate, unilateral, preventive move to maintain technological superiority.

  Besides, not all decisions to acquire would be deliberate. They could arise incidentally from the development of commercial, reusable space systems—not yet widespread when Space Weapons Earth Wars was being written but now proceeding rapidly at corporations like Blue Origin and SpaceX and at the space agencies of France and Germany. To quote the report again, “Any capability to deliver and retrieve large quantities of material economically to and from space could be adapted to emplace and deliver conventional weapons from space.”167 If you can go back and forth cheaply and easily, you can take almost anything along for the ride in either direction. Laser weapons or multivitamins—doesn’t really matter.

  Once the problem of transportation has been solved, the question of the advantages and limitations of space assets arises. One imagined advantage is ready access to targets via overflights, because (ever since Sputnik) political constraints on overflights apply only to lower-altitude aircraft.168 Another advantage is global reach, which holds true only if the assets are sufficiently numerous and strategically deployed. Two others are the potential for swift response, compared with the time needed to mobilize terrestrial forces, and the adversary’s difficulties in defending against space weapons. One big limitation is the stable, observable, predictable orbit of each satellite: to assemble a constellation of already orbiting satellites would mean having to change some established orbits, a formidable task requiring more fuel for thrust than a satellite typically carries in orbit. Other limitations include the $10,000-per-pound cost of placing any object in space and the need to have plenty of satellites in orbit (preferably hardened against attack) so that at least one will lie within timely reach of any likely target. Still other limitations, in theory if not in practice, are the treaty provisions that prohibit putting weapons of mass destruction in space bases and that assign liability for damages under certain circumstances. Finally, the paucity of time between decision and deployment can be good or bad or both.169

  But aside from the disputable morality of various space weapons, and aside from the budgetary constraints and the optimal tactics for guaranteeing preemption and preeminence, there’s a more basic question. Even a middle-school kid who’s been told about Hiroshima and Nagasaki and the firebombing of Tokyo, about defoliants and napalm, about bunker buster bombs and sarin gas attacks, might ask: What kinds of space weapons are the people in power willing to use today? Is there a line they will never cross?

  Statements to the effect that the United States must commit itself to space supremacy and embrace the full spectrum of space weapons—or, indeed, weapons in general
—have never been in short supply. “Full spectrum dominance” is the main theme of the Joint Chiefs of Staff’s Joint Vision 2020.170 At times, US rhetorical insistence on space superiority has sounded more like an insistence on space exclusivity. As one Air Force officer wrote during the George W. Bush administration, “the United States does not explicitly support other nations’ rights to operate militarily in space, reserving this right for itself.”171

  Militarization is often exponential. Intensified, it breeds weaponization. Each further step on the continuum escalates the danger: from simply operating in space, to operating militarily, to operating aggressively, to operating lethally. Beyond limited lethality lie extermination and annihilation, the predictable outcomes of waging war in space using the full spectrum of available and conceivable weapons.

  For more than half a century, the nuclear bomb has stood at the far end of the full spectrum, whether launched from a submarine or a silo, dropped from a plane, or delivered via suborbital missile. It is the emblematic weapon of annihilation. The scale of damage in Hiroshima and Nagasaki is well known. By contemporary standards, both cities represent mild demonstrations of what nuclear weapons can deliver. But even smallish nuclear explosions can cause serious collateral damage. On July 9, 1962, for example, in a nuclear test known as Starfish Prime, the United States exploded a 1.4-megaton hydrogen bomb four hundred kilometers up in the air, disabling half a dozen orbiting satellites and stoking the already disruptive population of electrons in the Van Allen radiation belt, which encircles Earth many thousands of kilometers above our planet’s surface. Nevertheless, tests and plans continued. U Thant, who was then secretary-general of the United Nations, described the US program to test nukes in space as “a manifestation of a very dangerous psychosis.”172