The Cold War & Its Origins, 1917–1960. Vol.I, 1917–1950

At 8:00 a.m. on August 6, 1945, the “all clear” signal after an air-raid warning was given in the Japanese city of Hiroshima. Nothing had happened, so “nearly all the school children and some industrial employees” went to work in the open, tearing down buildings to provide fire breaks and removing valuables to the country. Delayed factory workers, not the majority, also travelled to work.¹

At 8:45 a single American plane bearing an atomic bomb came over. Within a few minutes 80,000 people were dead and an equal number badly injured. Exploding high over the city, the bomb itself did terrific damage. Then fire spread over 4·4 square miles of the flimsy city, creating a “fire storm,” with a powerful updraft, which quickly burned out the area. Some 62,000 buildings, or 69 per cent, were destroyed, 6·6 per cent were badly damaged and the remainder slightly so.

A giant step had been taken in the discovery of the weapons of destruction, by which man increasingly destroys his civilization. Quantitatively, the damage done in Hiroshima was not larger than had already been achieved in a single fire raid on Tokyo. Indeed it was less, since on March 9, 1945, 16 square miles of Tokyo were destroyed and as many people burned to death as at Hiroshima.² For many weeks our bombers had been burning Japanese cities, with very high casualty rates. In Europe, also, old-fashioned bombs had destroyed some 70 cities.

These achievements, however, had required the use of many thousands of planes and of a few million tons of bombs. Now a city of 300,000 people could be destroyed with one bomb. The qualitative gain was enormous, granted that the cost of production was not too great.

The killing of Hiroshima at a single blow climaxed the greatest single coordinated effort of American scientific, engineering and industrial genius ever made. Since the Germans had first split the atom in 1938 we feared they would perfect atomic bombs during the war. Actually they had given up the effort as unattainable in their time, but we did not know that.³

By the time Germany was knocked out, success in creating an atomic bomb seemed assured, though the first one was not tested, at Alamagordo, New Mexico, until July 16, when Japan was obviously very groggy. Before that, however, the advisability of using the bomb on Japan had been canvassed and the decision made to do so, if the test succeeded.

Afterwards controversy arose as to the wisdom of this decision. Some suspected that the reasons were political, that the A-bomb was used to knock Japan out of the war before Russia could enter it, if possible, and, in any event, to restrict Russia’s gains and voice in the Far East. Is there any foundation for this charge?

Why Was the Bomb Used?

1. To Save American Lives

In his report on the Potsdam Conference, on August 9, President Truman said: “The world will note that the first atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima, a military base. That was because we wished to avoid, in so far as possible, the killing of civilians. But that attack is only a warning of things to come. If Japan does not surrender, bombs will have to be dropped on her war industries, and unfortunately thousands of civilian lives will be lost.”

It is true that Hiroshima was the military headquarters for southern Japan, and it contained several thousand troops at the time of the A-bomb attack. Yet it was not at these troops that the bomb was aimed. In order to have any effect in knocking Japan out of the war it had to be aimed at the Japanese people and it had to kill a huge number of them. In the words of the U.S. Strategic Bombing Survey, “Hiroshima and Nagasaki were chosen as targets because of their concentration of activities and population.”⁴

We used the bomb, continued President Truman, “to shorten the agony of war, in order to save the lives of thousands and thousands of young Americans.”

At the time, and doubtless later, this was a sufficient reason for most Americans, especially in view of the Japanese sneak attack on Pearl Harbor and of their barbaric treatment of our prisoners of war.

Later Estimates. Opinion remains strong also that a great saving of lives was made. Dr. Karl T. Compton has recorded his “complete conviction that the use of the atomic bomb saved hundreds of thousands—perhaps several millions—of lives, both American and Japanese.”⁵ Secretary of War Henry L. Stimson believed that 5,000,000 men in the Japanese armies still unbeaten had the strength to cost us a million casualties, though he did not subtract the 2,000,000 Japanese troops on the continent for which the Russians would certainly account.

By April 6, 1949, President Truman had revised the life-saving estimates downward somewhat. In a speech made to deter Russia from making any drastic reply to the North Atlantic Pact, he said that he had ordered the use of the bomb to save the lives of 200,000 American soldiers as well as from 200,000 to 400,000 of the enemy. The President “bluntly announced” that he would not hesitate to order the bomb dropped again, to preserve the “welfare of the nation” and “democracy.”⁶

After Hiroshima our highest military authorities agreed that the use of the A-bomb had not been essential. General Henry H. Arnold, the head of the Army Air Force, wrote that “the fact is that the Japanese could not have held out long, because they had lost control of the air.”⁷ Fleet Admiral William F. Halsey, Jr. also stated that “the first atomic bomb was an unnecessary experiment. It was a mistake to ever drop it. Why reveal a weapon like that to the world when it wasn’t necessary?” Explaining that the Japanese navy was already finished, Halsey blamed the use of the bomb on the scientists.⁸ The U.S. Strategic Bombing Survey also concluded that “Based on a detailed investigation of all the facts, and supported by the testimony of the surviving Japanese leaders involved, it is the Survey’s opinion that certainly prior to December 31, 1945, Japan would have surrendered, even if the atomic bombs had not been dropped, even if Russia had not entered the war, and even if no invasion had been planned or contemplated.”⁹

Secretary of State Byrnes has also stated that the bomb did not end the war, that Japan was beaten and suing for peace when it was dropped.¹⁰

The Contemporary Situation. At the time the bomb was used on Hiroshima the saving of American lives was not an urgent matter, since the Japanese navy had been almost destroyed, their air force nearly driven from the skies and no land invasion of the main Japanese islands was planned until November 1.

During July the daily news releases made it plain that Japan was defeated. On July 2, 4000 tons of incendiary bombs fell on four Japanese cities. The next day four more cities were burned, the total rising to twenty-six. On the 5th our Mustang planes had a field day over six nearly empty airfields in the Tokyo area and a naval convoy was smashed. On the 7th a 600–bomber raid made a 4000–ton attack. Not a plane was lost. So it went: 9 ships sunk in coastal waters; 154 planes smashed in carrier blow, no U.S. warships attacked; huge U.S. battleships rake Hokkaido, our ships enter landlocked bay and shell steel port; 1500–plane attack on heart of Japan; shell Tokyo Bay entrance, record B-29 assault; 1000 planes smash remnants of enemy navy, 7 large ships in hiding bombed; navy planes hit 60 Honshu airfields.¹¹

Forty per cent of the built-up area of 66 Japanese cities was destroyed.¹² No nation which had lost the power to retaliate could stand that kind of pounding very long. Japan’s cities and industries were being destroyed at will. A tight sea blockade had been established, with submarines, surface ships and by our ability to mine Japanese harbors freely from the air. It was apparent even to headline readers that Japanese resistance could not continue much longer.

Nevertheless, there was a powerful belief in the highest military quarters in Washington that invasion of the main islands would be as costly proportionately as Iwo Jima and Okinawa had been. General MacArthur’s staff estimated that the initial landings would cost us 50,000 casualties. The Kamikaze air attacks had made a justifiably powerful impression on us, as well as the terrible fighting on Okinawa.

While, therefore, the probability was that Japan would have to surrender soon, it was easy enough to dread a huge mopping-up operation in Japan, should it be necessary. If the A-bomb could compel surrender it was almost certain that it would be used some time in advance of November 1.

2. To Shorten the War and End a Painful Re-Deployment

There was also a very strong domestic political reason for its use. The country was determined to settle accounts with Japan, but it had had enough of war and yearned to see the end of it. This desire was especially deep because of the geography involved. Most of the army veterans of the European war were being re-deployed to the Far East, through the United States, on furloughs. This was doubtless necessary, but it was extremely difficult to ask those same men to go half way around the world again to finish another war. They would do it, but the prospect was so infinitely distasteful to them that any Administration would grasp at almost any means which would avoid that painful necessity.¹³

3. To Announce the Atomic Epic Fittingly

A further incentive was bound to motivate strongly some of the military men who had been responsible for the administration of the vast atomic project, the desire to show the world and the American taxpayers that the stupendous effort had paid off. The whole undertaking had been sensational, but secret. Now news of it would soon begin to spread, and what more effective announcement of results could there be than the mightiest explosion in history? This was a natural impulse in men who had been closely associated with the saga, one so powerful that it was by no means an inconsequential element in the decision to use the bomb. The urge to demonstrate in the most striking manner, the greatest “invention” ever made, was certain to be compelling. The expenditure had been huge, the anxiety about success had been great, and finally it had come. How else could it be announced so effectively as by using the bomb?

These three factors—to save lives, shorten the war and demonstrate the atomic discovery—made the military use of the A-bomb more than likely.

Were There Countervailing Reasons? Unquestionably, strong psychological forces worked for an early use of the bomb. Yet two considerations remain to be explored: (1) Were there long range reasons for avoiding the military use of the bomb; and (2) if not, when was the best time for its employment?

The Franck Report. One group of Americans had done some deep thinking on problems which would arise. Several memoranda prepared by scientists who had worked on the atomic energy project crystallized in the report of a “Committee on Social and Political Implications” to the Director of the Metallurgical Laboratory in Chicago, which was forwarded to the Secretary of War on June 11, 1945. The committee was headed by Professor James Franck.

The Franck Report is the first important document looking toward international control of atomic energy. Warning that in Russia the basic facts and implications of nuclear power were well understood in 1940 and that the experience of Russian scientists was “entirely sufficient to enable them to retrace our steps in a few years,” the report cautioned that a nuclear arms race could not be avoided, either by keeping our advance steps secret or by cornering raw materials. Evaluating our own vulnerability, it held that Russia and China were the only great nations which could survive an atomic attack.

For these reasons the Franck Committee urged that the first use of the bomb should be a test demonstration on the desert or a barren island, at which representatives of all the United Nations would be present. Stressing that new and imaginative methods were required to handle so momentous a development, the committee asked “the highest political leadership of this country to consider what the effects would be if the bomb were first used without warning as a military weapon.”

“Russia, and even allied countries which bear less mistrust of our ways and intentions, as well as neutral countries may be deeply shocked by this step. It may be very difficult to persuade the world that a nation which was capable of secretly preparing and suddenly releasing a new weapon, as indiscriminate as the rocket bomb and a thousand times more destructive, is to be trusted in its proclaimed desire of having such weapons abolished by international agreement.”

They felt that “it is not at all certain that American public opinion, if it could be enlightened as to the effect of atomic explosives, would approve of our own country being the first to introduce such an indiscriminate method of wholesale destruction of civilian life.” The saving of American lives might be outweighed by “a wave of horror and revulsion sweeping over the rest of the world and perhaps even dividing public opinion at home.” Altogether, “If the United States were to be the first to release this new means of indiscriminate destruction upon mankind, she would sacrifice public support throughout the world, precipitate the race for armaments, and prejudice the possibility of reaching an international agreement on the future control of such weapons.”¹⁴

The Decision to Proceed. Secretary Stimson has made a careful record of the decisive steps which led to the dropping of the bomb.¹⁵ On April 25 Stimson had told the new President about the atomic project. Mr. Truman was advised that with the aid of atomic bombs “even a very powerful unsuspecting nation might be conquered within a very few days by a very much smaller one.” Small nations could build A-bombs, as could “a larger nation in a much shorter time.” The implication was plain that a large nation would soon have the power to destroy the United States without warning.

Toward the end of April an Interim Committee was then appointed to advise the President on the questions raised. Its members were Secretary Stimson, George L. Harrison, James F. Byrnes, Ralph A. Bard, Dr. Vannevar Bush, Dr. Karl T. Compton and Dr. James B. Conant.

On June 1 this committee unanimously recommended that the bomb should be used without warning against Japan “on a dual target—that is, a military installation or war plant surrounded by or adjacent to houses and other buildings most susceptible to damage.”

A Scientific Panel consisting of Dr. A. H. Compton, Dr. Enrico Fermi, Dr. E. O. Lawrence and Dr. J. R. Oppenheimer had been appointed to advise the Interim Committee and it formally concurred with the Interim Committee on June 16, 1945. It could propose “no technical demonstration likely to bring an end to the war.”¹⁶ The demonstration bomb might be a dud, or it might not explode at the proper height. Besides, there were no bombs to waste. After the New Mexico static test on July 16, only two were available—the ones used on Japan.

In addition to the Franck Committee, which forwarded its report on June 11, two individuals made strong efforts to avert the routine use of the A-bomb on Japan. One member of the Interim Committee, Mr. Ralph A. Bard, Undersecretary of the Navy, at first assented to its report, being entirely new to the subject, but on further consideration he wrote to Stimson urging that two or three days’ warning be given Japan. On July 1, to make his dissent as emphatic as possible, he secured an interview with President Truman and, knowing that Japan was already securely bottled up, he urged that an all-out American invasion would not be necessary.¹⁷

One of the atomic scientists, Dr. Leo Szilard, who had been instrumental in initiating the atomic project, did his utmost to bring to the attention of the President the effect that the atomic bomb would have on our relations with Russia. Some time in March, 1945 he drew up a memorandum which by implication warned against the use of the bomb against Japan. President Roosevelt’s death prevented him from presenting it to Roosevelt. Then he tried to reach President Truman and was advised to go down to South Carolina and see the President’s personal adviser, James F. Byrnes. He did this on May 28, accompanied by Dr. Walter Bartky, associate dean of the physical sciences at the University of Chicago. This attempt to reach the President directly, which greatly disturbed General Leslie Groves, was inproductive.¹⁸

Then Dr. Szilard drew up a petition to the President urging that the bomb not be used until after a “suitable warning and opportunity to surrender under known conditions.”¹⁹ This document, signed by sixty-seven Chicago scientists, evoked some counter petitions and Dr. A. H. Compton, who was “deeply troubled by the extent to which opinion at the Chicago laboratory ran counter to the use of the bomb,” secured a poll of these scientists on July 12, 1945.

This poll offered four choices. Of the 150 who replied, 69 chose to “Give military demonstration in Japan to be followed by renewed opportunity for surrender before full use of the weapon.” “A military demonstration” could conceivably have been interpreted to mean the destruction of a large Japanese city, but if so what would a later “full use of the weapon” mean?

Some 39 scientists voted to “Give an experimental demonstration in this country, with representatives of Japan present, followed by a new opportunity for surrender before full use of the weapon,” and 16 voted for public demonstration of the weapon without any military use. Accordingly, of the 150 scientists 124 voted for a demonstration before any “full use of the weapon.”

Dr. A. H. Compton interpreted the result as a vote in support of the official decision to drop the bomb on “a dual target—that is, a military installation or war plant surrounded by or adjacent to houses and other buildings most susceptible to damage” and “without prior warning,” and he so advised Washington on July 23.²⁰

Aside from this highly doubtful interpretation, it seems unlikely that any of the efforts of the Chicago scientists to avert the quick use of the bomb on Japanese city had any effect. The decision of the Interim Committee recorded in the preceding paragraph was made on June 1, after which Bard’s protest was ineffective. The Franck Committee’s report was not completed until June 11 and there is “no evidence to show that Stimson actually saw” it.

Dr. Szilard was first shunted to South Carolina and his later petition was forwarded to President Truman at Potsdam on July 17, when the President was fully prepared to drop the bomb after an enigmatic warning to Japan, the successful test of the A-bomb on July 16 had already removed any question about it use, before someone in Washington requested, on July 23, the results of the Met Lab poll.²¹

The issue had been decided by Secretary Stimson’s memorandum to the President on July 2, in which he listed the evidence that the Japanese were nearly knocked out, along with his conviction that they would fight forever, in very rugged terrain, if we set foot on the larger islands. Surrender, he thought, could be arranged through the Emperor, if a very impressive warning were first given, outlining assurances for Japan’s future and warning of “the inevitability and completeness of the destruction” which “the varied and overwhelming” force at our disposal would bring about.

The Question of Timing. The President promptly accepted this program and discussion at once turned to the timing of the warning to Japan which would precede the use of S-1, the atomic bomb. In the end the decision was made by President Truman, who ruled that the warning should be solemnly issued at the Potsdam Conference, in the name of the United States, Great Britain and China, so that it would be plain, in Stimson’s words, “that all of Japan’s principal enemies were in entire unity.” [His italics.]²²

In other words, it was decided to try to force Japan’s surrender by A-bomb attack before Russia’s entry into the war on August 8.

This decision precipitated a period of intense strain at the Los Alamos Laboratory, where the bomb was being fabricated. One of the leading physicists who helped to put it together, Dr. Philip Morrison, has testified “that a date near August tenth was a mysterious final date which we, who had the daily technical job of readying the bomb, had to meet at whatever cost in risk or money or good development policy.”²³

We do not, however, need this evidence to dispose of the suggestion that our policy makers simply forgot about the date of Russia’s entry. Everyone in high authority in Washington, and many others, knew that Russia was due to enter the war on that date. It had been known since the Moscow Conference of 1943, when Stalin volunteered the information to Hull, that Russia would enter the war against Japan when Germany was defeated. It had been one of our very first objectives at Yalta to secure the fixing of the date and there was great satisfaction when Stalin advanced it from six months after VE day to three months.²⁴ Since VE day fell on May 8, August 8 at once became a key date in all the principal allied capitals.

When Russia did declare war on Japan, on August 8, the Moscow correspondent of the New York Times cabled that he had heard months ago that Russia would enter the war on Japan three months after VE day, and both the military expert of the Times and the editor stated plainly, on the 9th, that they had known about the Yalta agreement. Churchill also testified in his address of August 16 that he knew Russia’s entry was due on August 8.

Nor was it possible for our officials to forget so momentous a date Stimson’s memorandum of July 2 on warning Japan raised the question by suggesting that “if then a belligerent, Russia should be included in the warning.” At the close of the memo he added: “If Russia is a part of the threat, the Russian attack, if actual, must not have progressed too far.”

Effective use of the bomb depended either on dropping it before Russia’s entry into the war or immediately afterwards.

A dramatic warning was to be issued from Potsdam by “all of Japan’s principal enemies.” Actually this term included Russia since she was pledged to war with Japan, but technically and legally she could be ignored and the warning issued without her knowledge.

Russia Not Informed. Secretary of State Byrnes has given the details. Secretary Stimson had informed the American leaders that the July 16 test of the A-bomb had met our highest hopes and on the evening of July 26, in the midst of the Potsdam Conference, a telegram arrived from Chiang Kai-shek, approving the text of the ultimatum to Japan, thereafter known as the Potsdam Declaration. The declaration, says Byrnes, “was immediately released for publication and a copy was sent by special messenger to Mr. Molotov.” Later in the evening Molotov telephoned, “asking that the declaration be held up two or three days.” When he was told it already had been released he “seemed disturbed.” The next day Byrnes explained to Molotov that the declaration had not been presented to him because “we did not want to embarrass the Soviet Union” since it was “not yet at war” with Japan. Molotov “said simply” that we should have consulted him.²⁵

This impression in Molotov’s mind would be doubly strong since Stalin had twice told Truman and Byrnes, earlier in the conference, about successive efforts on Japan’s part to enlist Russia as a mediator and his failure to encourage that idea. President Truman had expressed his approval of Stalin’s action.²⁶

Russian Help Not Desired. One hardly needs to wonder that Molotov “seemed disturbed” when he read the Potsdam Declaration. The long and laborious deployment of Soviet forces from the West to the East was about completed, but his Western allies now apparently hoped to end the Japanese war without Russia by dealing with the Japanese Government. Two days later Molotov came to arrange the immediate occasion of Russia’s entry into the war. Wouldn’t the Allies invite Russia in! This presented “a problem to us,” which it took hours to solve. The President was “disturbed” and, because of Soviet acts in East Europe since Yalta, Byrnes would have been “satisfied” had the Russians decided not to enter the war. He “believed the atomic bomb would be successful,” indicating that he expected that the Japanese would reject the Potsdam ultimatum. The military situation had been “entirely different” when the Yalta agreement for Russia’s participation in the Japanese war had been made, but “we had to stand by our obligations.”²⁷

The same idea had been expressed by Churchill to Mikolajczyk on June 15. Relating that Stalin had asked for the Potsdam Conference because he wanted to get into the Japanese war, Churchill said: “We don’t care whether he comes into the war against the Japanese or not. We don’t need him now.”²⁸

The Bomb Dropped. The Japanese Government was not impressed by the Potsdam Declaration, which was issued on July 26, 1945. This ultimatum to Japan was “solemn,” as Mr. Truman desired. It was signed by himself, Churchill and Chiang and it was strong. It spoke of the forces of all three governments “poised to strike the final blows upon Japan.” The might now converging was “immeasurably greater” than that which had crushed the German people. (No mention was made of the immense Russian forces then assembling around Manchuria.)

Terms were then laid down. The “self-willed militaristic advisers,” presumably of the Emperor, must be eliminated—but nothing was said about his elimination. “Parts” of Japan’s territory would be occupied, and she would be stripped of her empire. Thereafter access to raw materials and trade would be permitted. Subject to these terms, “unconditional surrender” was demanded.

There was not even a hint in this “warning” that a tremendous new destructive force was about to be visited on Japan—a totally new dimension of warfare inaugurated. Everyone would take it for granted that she was to be destroyed by the old “conventional” means, horrible as these were. No time limit was laid down, and though she was nearly helpless it was not likely that the bad advisers of the Emperor would commit hari-kari promptly or surrender before the target for the bomb could be selected and clear weather obtained for its delivery eleven days later.

The warning may be judged to have been “fair” by conventional standards, but it was almost certain to be rejected, as its authors must have expected. Confronted with such a dramatic and public demand, the response was predetermined, especially from a land where “face” was supremely important. On July 28 Premier Suzuki announced that the Potsdam ultimatum was “unworthy of public notice.”

The way was now fully prepared for the use of the bomb. As Stimson observed: “In the face of this rejection we could only proceed to demonstrate. . . The bomb had been rushed to the Far East, part of it by ship and part by air, and was ready for use on July 31, but five days of bad weather delayed the destruction of Hiroshima.²⁹ It was dropped on August 6, the day before the American leaders returning from Potsdam reached Washington.

When the news reached President Truman on shipboard, he said to a group of sailors around him: “This is the greatest thing in history. It’s time for us to get home.” Later he wrote: “Let there be no mistake about it. I regarded the bomb as a military weapon and never had any doubt that it should be used.” He wanted it used “in the manner prescribed by the laws of war,” on “a military target,” “a war production center of prime importance.”³⁰ Many years later Mr. Truman added that he had “no qualms” about using the A-bomb. It was “a weapon of war, an artillery weapon,” and he had “never lost any sleep over it since.”³¹

Two days later the Soviet Union declared war on Japan, alleging falsely that “taking into consideration the refusal of Japan to capitulate, the Allies submitted to the Soviet Government a proposal to join the war against Japanese aggression and thus shorten the duration of the war, reduce the number of victims and facilitate the speedy restoration of universal peace. Loyal to its Allied duty,” the Soviet Government had accepted the proposal of the Allies and had joined the declaration of July 26.³²

On August 9 Nagasaki was A-bombed. On the 10th the Japanese Government offered to surrender, subject to a reservation about the Emperor’s authority. Final terms were agreed upon on the 14th and the formal surrender was signed on September 2.

The bomb had enabled the Japanese leaders to surrender and save face. Or was the Russian declaration of war the decisive factor? Either would have been enough when Japan’s position was already hopeless.

Russia’s Predicament. For the Russians this cataract of events was extremely embarrassing. The Washington correspondent of the New York Times reported on August 9 that “It was learned on high authority that, although Russia had been told by President Truman that a new explosive was about to be brought into play in the Pacific war, nothing of its destructive potential was revealed.” This is confirmed by Byrnes’ statement that after one of the Potsdam sessions, on July 24, President Truman walked around the table and told Stalin that after long experimentation we had developed a bomb far exceeding any known in destructiveness “and that we planned to use it very soon unless Japan surrendered.” Stalin merely replied that he was glad to hear about the bomb and that he hoped we would use it.³³

The whole episode was brief and casual. There is no evidence that the Russians understood that an epochal event was about to occur. They displayed no curiosity whatever after the conversation.

The A-bomb exploded and then a few days after the Russian armed forces had been launched in Manchuria the war was over. Russia’s allies were celebrating the end of the war and the news was seeping into Russia, where it had to be denied for many days, until the occupation of Manchuria could be substantially completed. In the world at large Russia was convicted of being a Johnny-come-lately who had jumped into the Japanese war at the very last minute to grab the fruits of a victory she had not earned. To combat this impression at home, the Russians faked the moving pictures of the final surrender to show that Russia alone had won the war.

Nearly a year later, on June 15, 1946, Norman Cousins and Thomas K. Finletter reviewed the decision to use the bomb as it was used in an article in the Saturday Review of Literature. They agreed that there was not time to arrange a test demonstration “if the purpose was to knock Japan out before Russia came in,” and that “it may be argued that this decision was justified; that it was a legitimate exercise of power politics in a rough-and-tumble world; that we avoided a struggle for authority in Japan similar to that we have experienced in Germany and Italy; that, unless we came out of the war with a decisive balance of power over Russia, we would be in no position to checkmate Russian expansion.” On the other hand, they thought that “there can be little question that the first error may have been the biggest error. The first error was the atomic bombing of Hiroshima.”

Certainly the military use of the atomic bomb created a presumption amounting to a certainty that it would be used again in any future world war. If we had refrained from using it, there would have been a presumption against its use. All other peoples, including the Russians, would have been under a moral compulsion not to use it. This presumption would not have made us safe, by any means, but it would have been a first deposit in the bank against the dreaded day, a first payment on a policy to regulate and control the use of atomic energy.

On May 14, 1947, British Admiral of the Fleet, Viscount Cunningham declared in an address at Leeds University that he had always regretted the dropping of atomic bombs on Japan. He did not think that Japan could have done anything but surrender unconditionally within a short time, whereas the result of dropping the bombs had been “that the incalculable benefit which atomic energy may confer upon mankind has been obscured by the possibility of the use of atomic energy as a weapon.”³⁴

Some Results. In midsummer 1945 four powerful urges pushed our leaders toward the swift use of the atomic bomb: (1) to save American lives; (2) to shorten the war; (3) to announce the atomic epic fittingly; and (4) to minimize the expansion of Russian power in the Far East.

In the earlier stages of the decision the first two motives were the strongest, in the final stages the last two appear to have become decisive. At the time the first three purposes seemed to have been brilliantly achieved and the fourth in part. In perspective our success seems more doubtful.

On December 30, 1945, Raymond B. Fosdick, President of the Rockefeller Foundation, wrote that by using the A-bomb to shorten the war we gave our moral sanction to any weapon in the future that would win a war, no matter how destructive it might be.

This is a consideration which those who decided to use the bomb would doubtless rebut by saying that, of course, that is what war is like. Nevertheless, it was a grave thing that the United States, presumably the most humanitarian of nations, should inaugurate a new era of frightfulness, without being under the overwhelming necessity of self-preservation. The effect was to convince everyone that there could be no safety in the world thereafter. If the humane and democratic Americans would do this, then of course the Bolsheviks would A-bomb anyone they did not like. This was a conclusion, to which Russophobes all over the world were certain to jump, even if the bomb had not been used, but since we had used it, it was easy for larger and larger circles of public opinion to accept the idea that of course the Russians would do the same thing to us if they could, and as soon as they could.

A very thoughtful Englishman, Sir Arthur Salter, also expressed his deep disquiet because the bomb was used on Japan without ascertaining whether the alternative really was the loss of additional millions of Allied lives, without waiting to see the impact upon Japan of Russia’s entry into the war, and with so short an interval between Hiroshima and Nagasaki.³⁵

Using the bomb to save American lives also got us into a kindred dilemma. Professor Albert Einstein defined it. Noting that we had used the bomb when it was not necessary to win the war, “in consideration of possible future loss of American lives,” he pointed out that we now had to consider “possible loss” of millions of lives.³⁶

In other words, there is no end to the hypothetical saving of American lives. Working under that principle we can justify a preventive war which would kill many millions of Russians and other Europeans, to forestall the possible killing of millions of Americans.

Our fourth objective, minimizing Russia’s gains in the Far East, was achieved only so far as Japan was concerned. Yet it would have been a serious thing for American prestige had Russian armies swept over Manchuria and North China in the summer of 1945, bagging hundreds of thousands of prisoners, while American armies were inactive. The impression that the Red Army always prepared the way for Allied victory, and that it was invincible everywhere, would have spread over the world. Likewise, the prodigious American four-year effort in the Pacific would have been overshadowed. The prevention of these developments goes far to justify the use of the bomb politically.

On the debit side, the decision to deliver a decisive knockout before Russia’s entry into the Japanese war also led to the decision to use the Japanese Emperor as a tool. This was a momentous step, since it involved the immense risk that all of the old war-making classes would be able to shelter under the throne until American occupation waned. This probability was so great that the sudden announcement that the Emperor was to be preserved brought intense agony of spirit to all those who had expected that there would be a real effort to end the old order in Japan, and free the world from the threat which was so plainly inherent in it. We also took the very questionable method of blasting a couple of hundred thousand ordinary Japanese, nearly all civilians, in order to help the Emperor make up his mind quickly, before Russia’s entry into the war hit him.

The scrapping of the unconditional surrender policy for Japan surprised even the State Department. One of the most reputable political scientists in the United States stated at a conference on international affairs in 1947 that up to the time of the Potsdam decision the State Department was moving toward unconditional surrender for Japan. The plans were all ready. Then they were changed at the last minute to provide for the recognition of the Emperor.

The military results of Hiroshima were comparatively minor. The inevitable surrender of Japan was hastened a little. The political fission which flowed from Hiroshima helped powerfully to split the world by inaugurating a new balance of power conflict and arms race under conditions more dangerous than ever before.

The American decisions concerning the use of the atomic bomb definitely marked the end of the war-time alliance with the Soviet Union and the beginning of the post-war balance of power struggle.

Strong American-British Stand in the Balkans

The impact of the American decisions which were registered at Hiroshima upon the Russians was strong and lasting. They still got their winnings in the Far East, and they eventually concluded that A-bombs could not conquer them. Nevertheless, all their security calculations were thrown into grave question. They thought they had finally won geographic security, but now space was of less value than before, yet it was the only defense available to them.

Up to this time control of Eastern Europe had seemed vital to them as a means of preventing a German come-back. Now the same region was even more vital as a buffer against the atomic-armed West.

On its side the West now decided to act strongly to secure “free and unfettered elections” in the Balkans.

To achieve this purpose it was necessary to prevail over two strong forces the fixed Balkan habit of “making” the elections and the dictatorial bent of the Communist regimes which were in power, supported by Russian armies.

The first barrier was of very tough fiber. Rumania had an excellent constitution, on paper, but no government had ever resigned because of a vote of non-confidence. The king simply dismissed the government when he chose and dissolved the Parliament at the same time. Then the party leader whom he selected “made” the election, aided by a law that the party which received forty per cent of the votes should have two-thirds of the seats in the Parliament. Only once in several decades did the government bungle its job of getting the necessary forty per cent.

In 1926 General Averescu received the royal nod, and garnered 280 seats, to 105 for the opposition. The next year Stirbey was the king’s choice and his party received sixty-two per cent of the votes, instead of the seven per cent it received in the 1926 election. In 1928 Maniu, the Peasant Party leader, was allowed to try and in the “first free election” his party got eighty-five per cent of all the votes and 385 seats. In 1931 Maniu was dismissed and Iorga, head of a nominal party, received forty-eight per cent of a very small vote. In 1932 the Peasant Party came back. In 1933 the National Liberals made the election and jumped from 30 seats to 274. This process continued, with one exception in 1940, down to the coming of the Nazis. The party which controlled the election machinery won the election.³⁷

This record does not prove that Communist-dominated governments would be preferable in the Balkans, though they might be more efficient. The possibility of changing the government, even by corrupt methods, means much to us. We would rather live under democratic forms, even though they did not give us honest elections or real democracy. The hope of slow evolution into the real thing would buoy us up. The Balkan record does show, however, that it would be next to impossible suddenly to get free elections and real democracy there. It could only be done by our going in with power to make the elections, in this case to keep anyone else from making them, and then staying to enforce the rules of the democratic game. In other words, we would have to do what the Soviets were in the act of doing for their brand of government.

Balkan Governments Warned. The new American and British leaders nevertheless resolved to try to prevent Russia from consolidating her hold on the Balkans. In his Potsdam report on August 9, President Truman stressed that Rumania, Bulgaria and Hungary were “not to be spheres of influence of any one power.” On August 18 an American note told the Provisional Bulgarian Government that it was not adequately representative of “important elements of democratic opinion” and that its arrangements for the forthcoming election were not free from the fear of force and intimidation. The participation of all important democratic elements would be essential for the conclusion of a peace treaty with a recognized democratic government.

Two days later in a public address Foreign Secretary Bevin gave the three Balkan governments the same threat of non-recognition. He had the impression that “one kind of totalitarianism is being replaced by another.”

The A-Bomb in Diplomacy. On August 26, 1945, C. L. Sulzberger summarized these developments as the start of an Anglo-American diplomatic offensive in East Europe. It grew out of three developments: (1) the removal from power of Roosevelt and Churchill, who had made or consented to spheres of influence arrangements with the Russians; (2) Russia’s current preoccupation in the Far East; and (3) Anglo-American possession of the atomic bomb, “completely shifting the actual balance of military power,” had “revised the entire over-all atmosphere.”³⁸

It would have been strange if the Russian leaders had not ascribed the Western post-Hiroshima, diplomatic offensive in the Balkans to the same reasons. The A-bomb had supplied a counter to the great strength of the Red Army, and, whether mentioned or not, would be a factor in all future balance of power moves.

Winston Churchill was the first to indicate publicly that the A-bomb should be used as an instrument of power politics. In a speech in the House of Commons on August 16, he had both attacked Russian policies in East Europe and pleaded that the atomic bomb be kept an American-British monopoly. The great plants necessary to produce atomic bombs could not be built in less than three or four years. In the meantime, the United States stood at the summit of the world, and he rejoiced that it was so.

He was moved by the tragedy of the 9,000,000 expellees from East Germany. He spoke of the “iron curtain” which divided Europe, behind which millions of people lived in fear of the knock on the door, and declared that “we must know where we stand, and we must make clear where we stand in these affairs of the Balkans and Eastern Europe.” In the same address Churchill was emphatic about Fascist Spain. “It would be wrong to intervene in Spain in a forcible manner or to attempt to re-light the civil war in that country.”

Describing the feelings of the Anglo-American leaders at Potsdam when the news of the successful test of the bomb arrived, he said: “We were in the presence of a new factor in human affairs. We possessed powers which were irresistible.” From that moment “our outlook on the future was transformed.”³⁹

Balkan Elections. Confronted with the parallel protests of Washington and London, the Bulgarian Government postponed the elections until November 18, and a long series of moves and counter moves ensued, including the dispatch of a special American representative, Mr. Mark Ethridge, to observe developments independently. He found much evidence of strong-arm tactics on the part of the Communist-dominated governments.

Western pressure for a further postponement of the election was rejected and on the appointed day the voting took place, in “complete order and without any disturbance. This was not only officially stated, but was witnessed personally by numerous foreign correspondents of different nationalities who arrived for the purpose and visited the polls in many parts of the country.”⁴⁰

The result was that “more than 85 per cent voted for the Fatherland Front.” The Bulgarian Government had made the election very successfully. Its chief device had been to organize, or dragoon, the permitted parties into a single voting list, so that all the voters had to do was to vote “yes” or “no.” Then after the “election” the seats in Parliament were distributed as follows: 94 Agrarians, 94 Communists, 46 Zveno group, 32 Social Democrats, 11 Radicals and 1 Independent.

In the case of Hungary the Provisional Government was notified by Byrnes and Bevin that the proposed joint list was undemocratic, and on August 29 the projected elections were postponed. On October 23 it was announced that the four principal Hungarian parties would submit separate lists, but would continue their coalition regardless of results. Recognition was extended on November 2, after a preliminary offer to do so on September 29, provided democratic freedoms and elections were assured. The election, on November 4, was hailed as the freest in decades. It gave the Small Landholder’s Party 59 per cent of the votes and 191 seats in Parliament; the Communists 17 per cent and 54 seats; the Social Democrats 18 per cent and 52 seats.

In Austria a similarly free election in November returned a strongly anticommunist government.

In Yugoslavia Tito’s communist regime, popular in its own right, had no difficulty in securing an overwhelming vote on November 11, 1945, and on November 29 a republic was proclaimed. King Peter was disavowed.

Backed by the West, King Michael of Rumania demanded Premier Groza’s resignation and refused to validate ministerial decrees. The British and American Ambassadors encouraged resistance and the anti-communists rallied, but the power of the Red Army kept Groza in office.⁴¹

In Rumania, where Russia’s defense concerns were vital, it was impossible to have a government friendly to the Soviet Union by free elections in which everybody voted.⁴² In attempting to force such elections Byrnes and Bevin did two things. They invalidated the Churchill-Stalin gentleman’s agreement’s of November 1944, after Churchill had cashed his side of the bargain in Greece, with Stalin’s support. They also denied the basic Yalta premise, on which the Yalta formula was built, that the East Europeans must have governments friendly to the Soviet Union. Nor was it “possible to plant democracy in Eastern Europe by diplomatic fiat.”⁴³

The September Council of Foreign Ministers

On September 11, the first meeting of the Council of Foreign Ministers, provided for at Yalta, met in London and failed to agree on anything. Molotov argued soberly and long for a foothold in the Mediterranean and was firmly rebuffed. He wanted a larger voice in Japan, though the West at first thought this only a bargaining point. There was disagreement also over Italian reparations, but the main cause of dissension was East Europe. The Americans introduced treaty drafts for Hungary, Bulgaria and Rumania. The last two had notes at the top saying that the drafts were theoretical since peace could not be concluded with the governments in control. All three drafts ended with a stipulation that all foreign troops should be withdrawn as soon as the treaties were signed.⁴⁴

In private conversations Secretary Byrnes did his level best to persuade Molotov that we only wanted governments in East Europe which would be “both friendly to the Soviet Union and representative of all the democratic elements of the country,” but Molotov insisted that our refusal to recognize the governments in Bulgaria and Rumania could only mean that we wanted governments hostile to the Soviet Union.⁴⁵

Since General de Gaulle had suggested a Western bloc just before the Council met, the Russian radio and press attacked this idea all during the conference as something aimed at the Soviet Union. Their own Eastern bloc was purely defensive, but a Western bloc would certainly be offensive. This is the bed rock principle upon which all balance of power contests are founded. Our own arrangements are always entirely defensive; those of others are plainly offensive. In 1949, as these lines were written, who in the West did not know that Russia’s Eastern bloc was a deadly offensive threat to the West, and that the Atlantic Pact was a purely defensive reply?

Personalities also clashed ominously in the Council. Molotov’s eternal reiteration of the same arguments was met by explosions from Bevin. After one of these Molotov “sat there, impassive and tight lipped,” and then said in his softly modulated voice that the previous Foreign Ministers Conference at Moscow had succeeded “because there were Cordell Hull and Eden.”⁴⁶ On another occasion Bevin called Molotov’s attitude Hitlerian, and Molotov was near the door before the term was withdrawn.⁴⁷ Throughout the conference Byrnes attempted to prevent these clashes and to keep the discussion on a non-personal basis, even when Molotov finally precipitated a crisis which broke up the conference.

Deadlock. When the Council meetings opened Molotov had unexpectedly agreed that the five foreign ministers should take part in all meetings, although the Potsdam agreement permitted a different interpretation. The French and Chinese Foreign Ministers were to vote only on certain matters, but it transpired increasingly that they sided with the American-British team, so that soon Molotov found himself always a minority of one. Consequently, on September 22, he took the position that a “mistake” had been made and demanded that the French and Chinese Ministers absent themselves except when treaties were under consideration to end armistices they had signed. A telegram from Truman to Stalin failed to induce a reversal of this volte-face, and after a few days the conference adjourned, without any communique being issued.

The shock to public opinion in the West was pronounced, yet at this time it was still possible for objective analysis to be made. Herbert L. Matthews noted that Russia began with her fear of isolation and the Western powers with their “profound objections to the Eastern bloc which Russia has created in her frantic search for security.” Now both sets of fears were stronger than ever. The Russian effort to get back to the Big Three had been “an elementary reaction of self-defense.” The Council of Foreign Ministers had given the Soviet Union “what she considered the best possible reasons for becoming convinced of the validity of her fears. That was, perhaps, the greatest and most lasting harm done by the London Conference.” Matthews added that Russia had all history on her side when she tried to narrow down the peacemaking to the few great powers. From the peace of Utrecht in 1713 to date “that was the only way anything ever got done.”⁴⁸

This was true, yet the smaller allies had to be brought into the peacemaking in some degree. It was these twin necessities which Byrnes later succeeded in reconciling.

Toughness Approved. The Bymes-Bevin diplomatic offensive in London had produced deadlock, a status which was generally regarded in Washington with approval. Drew Pearson wrote that in his report to the Senate Committee on Foreign Relations Byrnes “really wowed ’em.” Most Senators thought his tactics had been clever. His report that Molotov had the nerve to suggest that Russia sit in on the control of the Panama Canal and the Suez Canal, if we insisted on interfering with Russia’s domination of the Dardanelles, “made a strong impression on the Senators.”⁴⁹

James B. Reston reported that the Committee members had applauded Byrnes’ tough line with Russia. They had not questioned whether the tough line was right, but only whether it was tough enough, and whether it was his intention to “be tough” or only to “act tough.”

Double Standard. While approving his pressure in East Europe the Senators had criticized him sharply for letting Russia in on an advisory committee for Japan. In the State Department the trend was also toward firmness, though some pointed out that our policy was “liberal, if not radical in its proposals for other countries and generally conservative where our own vital interests are concerned.”⁵⁰

In this connection the astute French correspondent Pertinax revealed on October 16 that the Russians had laid claim to bases in Spitzbergen at Potsdam on the assumption that the Americans would retain footholds in Greenland and Iceland. When this news became public another writer accepted it as positive proof of Russian aggressive intent. Russia could want Spitzbergen bases, it was said, for no other purpose than to bomb Boston and New York. This led me to examine a globe and I learned that the Spitzbergen islands are an offshore appendage of the Eurasian continent, far closer to Moscow than to New York, not to speak of Leningrad.

In his article Pertinax added that competent observers of international affairs suspected that Molotov’s intractable mood at London had been motivated by knowledge of “the preliminary studies and investigations made in Washington with a view to setting up a network of naval and military strong points in the Pacific, the Atlantic and elsewhere.”

Our motive in desiring farflung bases was, in the beginning, purely defensive. Twice in thirty years we had been attacked by powers living far away from us. We wanted to guard against that in the future, even from Russia. The Russians, however, would not be sure that American bases on their side of the oceans had purely defensive purposes.

Walter Lippmann also was conscious of the split in our thinking. In the Pacific, north of the Equator, we had stated officially that in this vast area, and in Japan, ours is to be the deciding voice. This might be the right solution, but it was certainly not impressive in Eastern Europe “when we invoke the principle that this is one world in which decisions must not be taken unilaterally.”⁵¹ We were very realistic where our own vital interests were concerned, but very idealistic where Russia’s vital interests were involved.

On their side the Russians also practised a double standard. They expected acquiescence in the organization of Eastern Europe as a security zone for themselves and quickly opposed any attempt by the West to organize Western Europe. Their own purposes in East Europe were purely defensive, but any organization of West Europe would be offensive, aimed against them. They took it for granted also that they should expand both in East Europe and in the Mediterranean and could not understand why the latter development should seem dangerous to the West.

Contemporary with the London Council meeting two omens came out of Russia. On September 14 Senator Claude Pepper, of Florida, had an interview with Stalin in which the Russian ruler mentioned Russia’s request to the United States for a loan, some six months ago. Questioned on whether the money would be spent on war production he said that would be ridiculous, suicidal. The U.S.S.R. had already demobilized nearly 4,000,000 men and was continuing the process. What she needed most was to repair the damages of war. If the loan were granted to her it would be repaid in full.

Stalin was emphatic that Germany and Japan must be prevented from becoming aggressors again. He thought we were being too lenient with the Japanese and that the Ruhr should be taken away from Germany. It was essential that our two countries “find a new common ground for cooperation in peace time.” He asked only that the Soviet Union be judged objectively.

This interview was given at the opening of the London Council meeting. At its close, on October 2, the proposed visit of Marshal Zhukov to the United States was cancelled. As the Russian Commander in Berlin, Zhukov had developed a warm friendship with Eisenhower. The two had gotten on famously together. Zhukov had invited Eisenhower to Russia and the American General had had a fine reception in Moscow. On October 2 Zhukov’s return visit to the United States was postponed “because of illness,” after New York City authorities had begun to erect the reviewing stands, and it never took place. Before long Zhukov was transferred from Berlin and he disappeared from the limelight for many years.

Should the A-Bomb Secret Be Kept?

The sudden revelation that man had loosed the cosmic force of the universe itself precipitated three main lines of debate: (a) whether we should share the atomic bomb production secrets with other nations, meaning the Russians; (b) whether we should strive for control of atomic weapons by the United Nations; and (c) whether inside the United States atomic energy should be controlled by the military or by civilians.

In later times it may seem strange that the first question was seriously considered. Yet the reality of the debate is attested by the constant warning of the atomic scientists that the secret could not be kept and the equally constant reiteration of members of Congress and others that it must and would be. A poll of Congressmen in late September showed 76 out of 86 opposed to divulging the bomb secrets, probably a fair sample of sentiment in Congress.

Nevertheless, a great many people believed that it would be the best policy to share our atomic knowledge freely with the Russians and others.⁵² Walter Lippmann argued cogently that the scientists were the only ones who could be the guardians of the atom. No one else could know enough about it. Therefore the widest diffusion of atomic knowledge was the best insurance. The sharing of this knowledge, a continuing process as new advances were made, would mean frequent and regular meetings of the scientists, and those of forty countries would be much better guardians against nefarious use of atomic energy than the scientists of three nations.⁵³

The scientists were nearly all agreed that other nations could make bombs in something like five years. There was, accordingly, strong reason for freely sharing what we could keep only momentarily. When General Eisenhower was asked in a House Military Affairs Committee hearing on November 15, 1945, whether we should keep the atomic secrets during the two to five years we could expect to have a monopoly, he replied: “Let’s be realistic. The scientists say other nations will get the secret anyway. There is some point in making a virtue out of necessity.”⁵⁴

There was indeed great point in so doing. The free sharing of atomic knowledge would do two things: it would at once reduce the great tension which the Hiroshima explosion had set up and it would put the Russians under a very heavy moral obligation not to enter an atomic arms race. We had a second chance to get an agreement for international control of atomic energy that could be entered into freely by everyone, with no compulsion hanging over anyone’s head and with both sides having a common interest in control.

To the hard-boiled, materialistic mind such considerations were of course the most dangerous phantasy. No nation had ever revealed a military secret to its competitors, let alone the most tremendous of “secrets.” Of course we would keep it, as long as we could, and try to keep far ahead, technically and in bomb stockpiling, during our monopoly period. In the absence of some inspired leadership this was the reasoning that was bound to prevail.

British Opinion for Sharing. In Britain there was a remarkable outburst of opinion in favor of risking something and treating Russia as an ally to be trusted, instead of an enemy to be feared. The Americans had had no bombs fall in their cities, but the British could remember vividly what it was like, especially while technicians were momentarily working heroically to deal with a delayed action blockbuster before it went off.

On November 4 Mallory Browne sent a full review of British sentiment to the New York Times. Irritated and alarmed by our dilatory hoarding policy the British press was almost unanimous in bluntly voicing the view that atomic energy must be “regarded as all humanity’s heritage” and that any temporary advantage from keeping the secret a few years “would be more than offset by the antagonism that this would arouse in Moscow.” The London Times asked what hope there was for confidence while the most powerful weapon yet devised was “maintained as the prerogative and monopoly of one power?” Both the conservative Spectator and the left-wing New Statesman and Nation took the same strong line, the latter maintaining that the Russians were difficult to deal with, not because they were overconfident but because the slaughter of their people from Stalingrad to Berlin had given them an anxious sense of insecurity which the American monopoly of the atomic bomb had greatly exaggerated. The Spectator said that Russia was in a deplorable state of mind and that “any suggestion that she is being put on a different level from her Western Allies, a lower level, makes her impossible to deal with.” Withholding the atomic secrets made Russia an inferior military power and shattered confidence between the Allies, on the ground that Russia could not be trusted. There could be no other reason.

These judgments, Browne continued, were “entirely typical of British opinion” at that time. The British started from the premise that if peace was to be preserved and atomic warfare prevented the confidence of Russia had to be won by trusting her with the atomic bomb secrets.

One can hear the scorn and derision with which this view would have been greeted in 1949 and after. Fewer British citizens and very few Americans would then put themselves in the Russians’ place and ask: “How would we feel if we were labelled as the set of rogues who could not be trusted by their Allies?” Since the Russians have acted after Hiroshima as we would have acted had we been so labelled, we are certain that they could never have been trusted.

After Hiroshima there was a brief period when farsighted action might have laid the foundation for a new world but, as so many thinkers pointed out, man’s social vision was not ready for the atomic age. Our scientific progress from the bow and arrow to the atomic bomb had been stupefying, but we were still creatures “full of prejudice and fear and selfish national desires.”⁵⁵ Therefore Americans must fear and distrust Russians, and vice versa, exactly as the primitive tribes did. On August 18, Norman Cousins published his famous article, “Modern Man Is Obsolete”—“a self-made anachronism becoming more incongruous by the minute. He has exalted change in everything but himself. He has leaped centuries ahead in inventing a new world but he has not prepared himself to live in that world.”⁵⁶

If the Russians had perfected the atomic bomb would they have shared the secrets involved with us? The answer is almost certainly “No.” They are specialists in secrecy, with centuries of experience in it. They would have given nothing away. Nevertheless, this does not fully solve our own problem.

Roosevelt and Hull had labored long and patiently to break down Russia’s suspicions and bring her into the comity of nations and, when the dismal pre-Munich history is remembered, they had had remarkable success. Russia was also so incomparably more wounded by the war than we were that it was incumbent upon us to keep her inevitable state of mind constantly in our calculations. If mature, curative statesmanship was to come out of any national capital after the war it had to come from Washington. If, also, Russia was to get help in recovery from terrible devastation the help had to come from the United States. It could come, apart from wholly inadequate reparations seizures, only from us, and a marvellous new source of industrial power could be of tremendous aid in Russia’s recovery.

All reason, surely, was not on the side of the original decision that we must not trust the Russians with atomic energy.

Decision Delayed. President Truman’s first statement about the atomic bomb, on August 6, 1945, said that it had never before been the habit of American scientists or the policy of our Government to withhold scientific knowledge. “Normally, therefore, everything about the work with atomic energy would be made public.”

But, he added, “under present circumstances it is not intended to divulge the terminal processes of production or all the military applications, pending further examination of possible methods of protecting us and the rest of the world from the danger of sudden destruction.”

The “present circumstances” were that we did not trust a powerful ally which had loyally fought through the war in Europe with us and was ready to do so in the Far East. The President promised, however, to “give further consideration and make further recommendations to the Congress as to how atomic power can be a powerful and forceful influence toward the maintenance of world peace.”

With the deadly smoke of Hiroshima hanging high in the heavens it was difficult to foresee how atomic power could be “a powerful and forceful” keeper of world peace, unless through the fear that future bombs would be dropped.

Even if Mr. Truman did not picture himself as the world’s atomic policeman, what would the Russians think?

On the same day Secretary Stimson issued a statement giving a history of the great atomic quest which ended as follows: “Every effort is being bent toward assuring that this weapon and the new field of science that stands behind it will be employed wisely in the interests of the security of peace-loving nations and the well-being of the world.”

Here were the obviously good intentions of a high-minded statesman. The bomb was to be used “wisely” to protect the peace-loving nations from those of evil intent. And who were the latter? The Allies would have the power to police Germany, Japan and Italy for a long time. Who else would drop A-bombs on the peace-loving nations? Who, too, was to see to it that the Russians used atomic energy “wisely” for the well-being of the world?

These were great questions for which answers would eventually be proposed. But would the Russians then accept the answers?

In the weeks after Hiroshima, while the Japanese war was being formally wound up, it was natural that our officials should relax on the atomic question, especially since they had made the fundamental decision not to share freely the decisive steps in the creation of fissionable material and its assembly into bombs. The famous Smythe Report had given a great deal of information about atomic energy—far too much, many said—and more did not seem immediately required. There were also many other post war issues and problems to take up governmental attention.

The Campaign of the Scientists. Yet as the weeks passed the atomic scientists became almost frantic with anxiety. They had been thinking about the future while the bomb was being prepared. They knew that the greatest decisions ever made by man were called for. Realizing that free sharing was unlikely, they concentrated more and more on urging international control, usually by the UN Security Council.

To stir their fellow countrymen to action the scientists made public statements, usually by invitation, almost daily, explaining the terrific power of the new weapon, the horrors it could unleash and the urgent necessity of pushing on to international control. The greatest of the scientists all assured the public that there was no defense against the atomic bomb, especially if successfully hitched to long range rockets. One explained that 40,000,000 Americans could be killed in a day and another that two-thirds of the human race could be wiped out in an atomic war.

Never before had a group of informed American citizens risen more earnestly or more unanimously to the effort to ward off mortal danger and to secure a great advance in social organization. We are deeply indebted to the scientists for the splendid effort they made. It was natural, too, that all the advocates of real world government, and countless new converts, should chime in, feeling that the fear of the bomb would enable us to take a long and much needed leap ahead.

Yet the noble effort of the scientists to harness the mighty force their government had commanded them to turn loose backfired in a way never anticipated. They unwittingly convinced a large part of their countrymen that we had better not let the Russians get hold of such a terrific force and that maybe a preventive war would not be such a bad thing. A lecturer who was a good internationalist did his work so well that many people in an audience of United Nations supporters were convinced that if it was going to be that horrible we had just better drop the bombs over there, far away from the U.S.A. and have it all over with. The response of more nationalistic Americans to the terrors of the A-bomb needs no elaboration.

Finally, on September 28, 1945, David Lawrence wrote in alarm that the world was still thinking in terms of further use of the A-bomb. It was “truly amazing” that the recent discussion in President Truman’s Cabinet had centered merely on whether the bomb secrets should be shared with Russia and others. No one in authority had proposed that it be banned completely from further use in war.⁵⁷

Stimson’s Plea for a Direct Approach to Russia. The policy of seeking an atomic agreement directly with Moscow was ably championed by Secretary of War Stimson. He had been deeply disturbed at Potsdam by the desire of the Russians to secure bases in the Mediterranean and especially by the atmosphere of dictatorial repression which he felt about him. The “courtesy and hospitality of the Russians was unfailing,” yet the Americans were acutely aware that they breathed the air of a police state. It acquired for him, and for the other Americans at Potsdam, “a direct and terrible meaning.”⁵⁸

The effect of this factor upon the thinking of our leaders at Potsdam is to be considered in evaluating their decisions there concerning the atomic bomb. It seemed to Stimson that permanently safe relations could never be established between two states so differently based. He came to the conclusion that no system of control for atomic energy could be accepted until the Russians had put their constitution of 1936 in force, to provide real freedoms for the Soviet peoples.

After returning to Washington Stimson was compelled to retire to the Adirondacks for rest, and with time to think he realized that the Red leaders would never liberalize their state at our demand. He began to think, also, that the atom might be the central problem, not the Russians. Eventually, he concluded that individual rights could come in Russia only slowly and gradually and that his life-long policy of making a man trustworthy by trusting him should be applied to the Russians.

He therefore submitted to President Truman, on September 11, 1945, a memorandum which is one of the most significant documents of that memorable year. Stimson pointed out that “unless the Soviets are voluntarily invited into the partnership upon a basis of cooperation and trust” a desperate arms race would result. He considered satisfactory relations with Russia to be “virtually dominated by the problem of the atomic bomb.” It was vital to make sure that when they did get it they would be willing and cooperative partners. Our relations might be “perhaps irretrievably embittered by the way in which we approach the solution of the bomb with Russia. For if we fail to approach them now and merely continue to negotiate with them, having this weapon rather ostentatiously on our hip, their suspicions and their distrust of our motives and purposes will increase.” It would inspire them to all-out efforts to solve the problem themselves.

It was his judgment that the Russians would be more likely to respond to a direct and forthright approach from the United States. He emphasized “perhaps beyond all other considerations the importance of taking this action with Russia as a proposal of the United States—backed by Great Britain but peculiarly the proposal of the United States. Action of any international group of nations, including many small nations who have not demonstrated their potential power or responsibility in this war would not, in my opinion, be taken seriously by the Soviets.”

As the outline of a direct approach to the Kremlin, Stimson suggested that the Big Three agree to stop all work on atomic bombs, that those which we had be impounded, and that an agreement be made never to use the A-bomb in war unless all three governments agreed to do so.

This program for seeking agreement with the Russians early and directly—it was only a month after Hiroshima—was advanced by the ablest elder statesman in the President’s Cabinet. Stimson had been Secretary of War and Secretary of State in troubled periods before he headed the War Department throughout our greatest war. If anyone was entitled to be listened to in his last public endeavor, he was the man. At the last Cabinet meeting he attended, on September 21, 1945, the day of his retirement, he urgently expressed the same views—a prompt effort to achieve control of atomic warfare by direct negotiations with the Russians.

In this historic session Stimson appeared to win the majority of those present. Dean Acheson, Robert Hannegan, Henry Wallace, Robert Patterson, Lewis Schwellenbach, Philip B. Fleming and Paul McNutt in general agreed with Stimson. Fred M. Vinson, Tom C. Clark, James V. Forrestal and Clinton P. Anderson demurred. Three others favored delaying any decision for six months.⁵⁹

In later times it seemed almost incredible that so many had supported the exchange of scientific information on atomic energy with the Russians. Yet at that time Dr. Vannevar Bush, Director of the Office of Scientific Research and Development, thought we would profit from the exchange. He thought it a good way to find out whether we could trust the Russians and it would “announce to the world that we wish to proceed down the path of international good will and understanding.” However, the Joint Chiefs of Staff recommended that the United States “retain all existing secrets with respect to the atomic weapons,” and of course the Stimson approach was never tried. Truman “respected and trusted Stimson,” but not to the extent of trusting the Russians.⁶⁰

Two years later Stimson thought that the chances of success were less than he had anticipated, but he still believed that “the existence of any chance at all would have justified the attempt, so great was the objective at stake.” By 1950 this seemed truer still. By then the policy of distrusting the Russians, and insisting on the ultimate in guarantees, had been repaid in distrust, brash and vituperative, many times over.

A Policy of Secrecy Announced. On October 3, President Truman sent a special message to Congress urging at length that a comprehensive law be passed to nationalize all atomic energy processes inside the United States. He also gave notice that he would initiate discussions first with Great Britain and Canada, our associates in the discovery of atomic energy, and then with others, in an effort to secure international control of atomic energy and prevent “a desperate armament race which might well end in disaster.” He emphasized “that these discussions will not be concerned with disclosures relating to the manufacturing processes of the atomic bomb itself.”

A few days later, on October 8, Mr. Truman was vacationing at Reelfoot Lake in Tennessee. In the evening he asked the reporters over to Linda Lodge and in reply to questions told them that though he had not discussed the retention of the industrial “know-how” of atomic production with Canada and England he was sure these countries would agree on keeping it secret. He explained that our refusal to share the bomb secret had no bearing on current relations with Russia. It had always been difficult for English-speaking persons and Russians to understand one another, due to the difficulty in translating the two languages.⁶¹

In his account of this event Truman remembers explaining that the Russians did not have the “practical know-how,” “the industrial plant and our engineering ability to do the job.” They and our other allies would have to get these things “on their own hook, just as we did.”⁶²

The response to this casual and off-hand manner of registering a momentous decision, which had been hitherto implicit but never spelled out, was strong. Marquis Childs wrote that “the scientists have lost. We have all lost.” Scientist J. Robert Oppenheimer testified that “you cannot keep the nature of the world a secret.” From Los Alamos, New Mexico, 400 atomic scientists predicted bombs “thousands of times more powerful” than those dropped on Japan and warned that lack of action toward international control for “even a few months will be preparing the world for unprecedented destruction.” Alexander Uhl noted that already the sense of urgency had slipped away so that one would hardly know by the news from Washington that we had to face the reality of a new world.

Samuel Grafton exclaimed, with true prophetic vision: “What a strange sensation will shoot through us on that day when some other nation, some nation which owes us nothing for the data, announces and proves that it, too, has the atomic bomb!” Walter Lippmann added that “we are not likely to convince mankind that we believe in liberty if the best we can think of to do with our knowledge of the atom is to make a monopoly of it maintained by an hysterical censorship.” How could one expect to break down a political censorship in Bulgaria when we maintained a scientific one in the United States? But from Washington, William S. White reported that in Congress “the mood for clutching the secret tightly, rather than for letting out a single phase of it, appeared wholly predominant.”⁶³

Before a Congressional committee scientist Leo Szilard described two schools of thought, one favoring the use of atomic energy for industrial and civilian use, the other wishing to make more bombs “so we can blast the hell out of Russia before Russia blasts the hell out of us.”⁶⁴ Drew Pearson observed: “If we can head off the war with Russia that the brass hats are talking about, and secretly preparing for” it would save civilization. He favored extending the Good Neighbor Policy to Russia.⁶⁵ Both of these candid statements were disquieting, but it was an editorial writer in the Nashville Tennessean who, on October 12, 1945, made the most strikingly prophetic observation. Said he: “If the formulators of our foreign policy get the unfortunate idea that the compelling mission of the United States is to fence in Russia with a power ring in the Pacific and throw up a cordon sanitaire from Berlin to the Adriatic against the U.S.S.R., they will condemn the United Nations to an early death and the world to the prospects of another early world war.”

A full year and a half before the Truman Doctrine was uttered the Tennessean editor had sensed what the small whirlwind then starting would be like when it developed. The only item in the Truman Doctrine that he did not foresee was the detail that our policy formulators would simply build the fence all the way around Russia and plant the posts in the Mediterranean first.

Atomic Arms Race. On October 19, 1945, Mr. Fyke Farmer of Nashville, Tennessee, an earnest advocate of world government and of international control of atomic energy, had an interview with President Truman in which the President expressed the opinion that we alone possessed the physical resources and the organizational skill to make atomic bombs. Asked directly if the armament race was on, Mr. Truman replied: “Yes, but I think we will stay ahead.”⁶⁶

Two days later the eminent British savant, H. G. Wells, one of the greatest seers of his time, made his last prediction. “This world is at the end of its tether,” he said. “The end of everything we call life is close at hand and can’t be evaded.”⁶⁷

“A Sacred Trust.” On October 27, President Truman made a foreign policy speech on Navy Day. Declaring that our policy is based firmly on “righteousness and justice” and that there would be no “compromise with evil,” he laid down twelve fundamentals, all of them the highest moral and democratic principles, as we understand them. Half of them struck against Russia’s position in Eastern Europe by implication. For example: “We shall refuse to recognize any government imposed upon any nation by the force of any foreign power.” The ninth fundamental prescribed the solution of all Western Hemisphere problems in neighborly fashion, “without interference from outside the Western Hemisphere.”

Urging the people of the United States, Russia and other lands “to take the course of current history into their own hands” he avowed that “the atomic bombs which fell on Hiroshima and Nagasaki must be made a signal, not for the old process of falling apart but for a new era—an era of ever closer unity and ever closer friendship among peaceful nations.” He did not say how these two episodes in mass destruction, which had spread fear around the world, could prevent “the old process of falling apart,” but he declared that the A-bombs in our hands were “no threat to any nation” and added that “this new power of destruction we regard as a sacred trust.”⁶⁸

To the majority of Americans this seemed a very natural policy. The public opinion polls never revealed any time when the American people were willing to give up the atomic secrets without a guarantee that effective international control would be established. In November 1945, 60 per cent thought we should keep the secrets and 40 per cent said “No.” In March 1946, 31 per cent thought Russia should share the secret, 52 per cent thought not and 17 per cent had no opinion.⁶⁹

The remarkable thing about these polls is not the majority for retaining the secrets as long as possible, but the large minority who were for sharing them freely. The minority was so large that vigorous official leadership in favor of a policy of sharing would almost certainly have made it a majority. It is a very noteworthy thing that without such leadership a third of our people should have been willing to take the risks of sharing in an effort to avoid another balance of power struggle. That this many people thought confidence was a better foundation for the future than iron bound guarantees is more significant than the feeling of the majority that we should hold on to the bomb unless the world met our terms.

The scientists almost unanimously warned that our atomic supremacy was momentary, but the politicians and the military men believed that our advanced industrial techniques would prolong the period very considerably. Major General Leslie C. Groves, who commanded the whole atomic project, estimated that even with the most fortunate circumstances “the most powerful of nations” could not catch up with us during a period of from five to twenty years. Rear Admiral William R. Purnell also testified that no other nation was equipped industrially to make atomic bombs. He doubted that Britain could do so in five years.⁷⁰

Commenting on the President’s Navy Day speech, David Lawrence asked why there was so much current emphasis on the defense of the United States. While paying formal homage to UN, many of the speeches of our military and naval leaders since VE Day had emphasized “most vehemently the need for big armaments to protect the United States against unidentified potential enemies.” Throughout history there had always been danger in building armaments for abstract purposes. Other nations would do the identifying and begin to take counter measures.⁷¹

Nothing, of course, was more certain. On October 30 General George S. Patton urged that we stay “armed and prepared” for an “inevitable” third world war. Otherwise the United States would probably be destroyed.⁷² In his report Air Chief General Henry H. Arnold called for “absolute air superiority in being at all times, combined with the best anti-aircraft ground devices.” This was “the only form of defense which offers any security whatever.” On December 8, Arnold added that, in addition to a far-flung spy network “we must use our most brilliant scientists to develop better weapons more quickly and more effectively. We must take advantage of the bases we now have to be closer to an enemy’s vital points with our weapons than he is to ours. We must use the most modern weapons of all kinds so that we can beat any potential opponent to the draw.”⁷³

Arnold added that this policy of “offensive readiness” did not mean that we should ever become an aggressor nation. As a good patriot he was doing his best to provide for our future security. But would the Russians understand that absolute American air supremacy, equipped with the latest scientific weapons and based close to their vitals, had only defensive intent? It is the innermost law of balance of power arms races that what is meat to one contestant is poison to the other.

Foreign Policy Adrift. On November 3, Lippmann wrote in alarm that our foreign policy was out of control. Decisions of the utmost moment were being made in bits and pieces, such as the termination of lend-lease “abruptly and brutally,” and by many different agencies and people. We had in fact “drifted into a race of armaments with the Soviet Union” on the atomic bomb question, military programs and power politics. Nobody had planned it but we were “all being sucked into a conflict,” and we were not using a fraction of our power and influence to avert it. “Let no one deceive himself: we are drifting. We are drifting toward a catastrophe.”⁷⁴

This warning from the nation’s most respected columnist should have done something to stop the drift, but it did not. There was no statesman’s hand at the helm to steer, and too many people were interested in promoting the drift toward catastrophe, especially since the unexpected windfall of atomic bombs promised an easy way of disposing of “an enemy” on his home grounds.

The Truman-Attlee-King Declaration. During October the British people became so acutely uneasy about the drifting on atomic energy policy that Prime Minister Attlee expressed a desire to discuss the subject personally with President Truman, and he was invited to come to Washington, along with Prime Minister Mackenzie King of Canada. Shortly before Mr. Attlee’s departure Herbert L. Matthews wrote from London that “there is no longer any doubt that the Labor Government has swung around under great popular pressure to the conception that atomic energy should be a world heritage, and that whatever may be gained by withholding the secret over the next five or ten years would be lost politically in international relations with Russia.” It was the feeling in England that the next five or ten years were not important, since nobody could consider another world war for a much longer period. Therefore possession of the bomb secrets by Russia would not greatly matter and “Russia’s good will might as well be purchased or bargained for now.”⁷⁵

It was added that Attlee would try to get the bomb turned over to the Security Council, preferably to the Five Great Powers on it. However, he would not press for a rigid settlement now if American opinion was opposed. He could hardly do so, since Britain’s whole future was dependent on receiving a large American loan.

While the three Anglo-Saxon leaders deliberated, a dispatch from Ottawa described nervous tension in Canada comparable to that before some of the great battles of the late war. It was felt that whether the secret of the A-bomb was kept by a few or turned over to the Security Council there could no longer be a feeling of national security.⁷⁶

This was the blunt and bitter truth. Even the largest nations could never feel or be as safe again, no matter what controls might be devised. Men might seek greater safety in much larger governmental units, but the old security could never be recovered—unless by some miracle the biggest nations learned to act with moderation toward each other.

The Three Nation Declaration on atomic energy was issued in Washington on November 15, 1945. Recognizing that “there can be no adequate defense” against atomic bombs, that “no single nation can in fact have a monopoly,” that no system of safeguards would provide an effective safeguard against the making of A-bombs “by a nation bent on aggression,” the declaration recalled that “the basic scientific information essential to the development of atomic energy for peaceful purposes has already been made available to the world.”

However, it had been decided that “the disclosure of detailed information concerning the practical industrial (and military) application of atomic energy” would not contribute to the devising of “effective, reciprocal, and enforceable safeguards.”

The Three atomic powers therefore proposed the creation of a United Nations Commission which should make specific proposals for effective control of atomic energy. “The work of the commission should proceed by separate stages, the successful completion of each one of which will develop the necessary confidence of the world before the next stage is undertaken. Specifically, it is considered that the commission might well devote its attention first to the wide exchange of scientists and scientific information, and as a second stage to the development of full knowledge concerning natural resources of raw materials.”

Tests for the Soviets. This paragraph was the crux of the proposal. The first step should be “the wide exchange of scientists and scientific information.” The body of the document had stressed that this should be information “for peaceful ends.” This would enable us to gauge how far along the Russians were with their atomic researches, while they would presumably acquire from us some further details about the use of atomic energy “for peaceful ends.” This would require the Soviets to make a dent in their most deeply held complex—fear that foreigners would acquire vital security information—and it would point toward the eventual opening of their entire realm to UN inspectors. In turn this would mean that the world would acquire intimate knowledge about: (a) Russia’s great post-war weakness; (b) her industrial and military strength; (c) Soviet police methods; and (d) the far lower standard of living than that enjoyed by the West.

These probabilities raised two crucial questions for the Soviets. They believed they had survived the German onslaught because they had successfully veiled their real strength from the Germans. Could they now trust the other Western nations with full security information? The other issue concerned their entire system of government and production. Could they trust their people to remain loyal to both, if exposed to widening knowledge of the freer and more prosperous conditions in the West? The leaders might believe that this gap would be closed in a generation or two, but would their people remain convinced?

In answering these most decisive of questions the Soviet leaders were bound to be deeply influenced by the entire history of their relations with the West since 1917, while the West would think only of the future. Were the Reds proving their good faith by opening up and letting us see what they had? With us this matter of good faith was decisive. Since we did not trust the Russians not to drop A-bombs on us they had to win our confidence by proving, one step at a time, that they would not do so.

If they successfully passed the test on Step One, then they could come up for Test Two: “the development of full knowledge concerning natural resources of raw materials.” We desired to know what deposits of uranium or thorium existed in the Soviet Union. To gather this information over the vast expanses involved would require a great deal of searching and, again, inspection. The Russian leaders might look upon Stage Two with deep misgivings but they were required to pass examination on it, for “the successful completion of each” stage “will develop the necessary confidence of the world before the next stage is undertaken.”

If the Russian Government successfully passed the first two stages then others could be considered, ending finally in the receipt of “information concerning the practical industrial application of atomic energy.” It was a stiff course, and there must be no failure at any stage.

In later years few Americans doubted the wisdom of prescribing this course. Knowing that we are the most advanced, trustworthy and enlightened people in the world it was only natural that we should require the Russians to prove their sincerity and trustworthiness. When President Truman announced on October 27, three months after Hiroshima, that “the possession in our hands of this new power of destruction we regard as a sacred trust,” he knew that “because of our love of peace, the thoughtful people of the world know that that trust will not be violated, that it will be faithfully executed,” in spite of our hasty first use of the A-bomb in war.

Mr. Truman’s consciousness of rectitude was total. On the other hand, the Russian leaders were the head of another very proud government, one whose achievements during our common war had astounded the world and perhaps surprised the Russians. Would they take the course, entering at the first grade and continuing loyally through to the eighth, or wherever the graduation point might be?

Men being what they are, full of the sense of their own rightness, in Moscow as well as Washington, there was hardly more than one chance in a thousand that they would register for the course. Being human, they would choose to wait a few years, until their own scientists and their own system had proved that they could master atomic energy.

They were the more likely to make this decision because of the three months’ delay during which our distrust of them had been well advertised to the world. Many Americans sensed, and some saw clearly, that this long delay had been fatal to international control of atomic energy.

“The Years of No Solution.” On November 17, 1945, two days after the Three Nation Declaration, Oppenheimer observed that it would have been “an enormous step forward” if the recent offer by the three nations to give the atomic bomb to the United Nations Organization on a reciprocal basis had been made “on the tenth of August by the Big Five powers.” There were a few key words in the whole problem of the atomic bomb, he added. They were: confidence, international cooperation “and perhaps control.”⁷⁷

We had begun belatedly at the other end of this spectrum, with control coming first and confidence last.

Lippmann wrote that there was nothing in the declaration that could not have been proposed at Potsdam or on the day of Japan’s surrender. The failure of our high officials to do so could perhaps be explained, but not easily excused. Then, he continued, it would have been greeted as an inspired act of statesmanship. Now, as the Herald Tribune pointed out, we must use the proposals to repair the mischief which their prompt issuance would have done so much to prevent.⁷⁸

It was to be another seven months before the UN Atomic Energy Commission met. On the day that it did, Cousins and Finletter wrote that it was almost a year since the explosion of the bomb at Hiroshima, “but during that time the making of a policy to deal with it has had nothing of the bristling urgency and determination that went into the making of the bomb.” Instead there had been “a policy of drift, default and delay. It is doubtful whether ever in our history there has been an uglier or more ominous frittering away of critically valuable time.”⁷⁹

Secretary of State Byrnes had given far too optimistic a view when he said of the Truman-Attlee proposals, on November 16: “They represent a very modest first step in what is certain to prove a long and difficult journey.”⁸⁰

How illusory the journey was to be the Association of Oak Ridge Scientists explained on the same day. The greatest atomic secret, by far, was that the bomb could be made to work. Now everybody knew the exact problems to be solved. The Smyth Report had told what the successful methods of getting Uranium 235 were; it described how Plutonium is prepared; it outlined the problems in setting up the atomic bomb. All that remained to be learned was “the details of the processes: how the machinery is designed, what chemicals are used, etc.,” and “any group of scientists, knowing these general facts, can work out the details just as we did.” It could not be denied that the scientists of Russia or France could work out these missing details, “and quickly.”⁸¹

Here was Rule One in the politics of atomic energy, straight from the men who knew that it was the basic fact, but they could not get it over to the policy makers. In this situation no Great Power could be put through a long catechism to prove that it could be trusted to receive and handle atomic energy, under rigid regulation and control. What would have been the response of Truman and Byrnes, of Vandenberg and Connally, if they had been required to give the same proofs of their present sincerity and accept the same guarantees of their future good conduct, without ever being permitted to have a single atomic bomb?

Samuel Grafton stated fairly the dilemma our leaders were in. If Mr. Truman gave away the A-bomb manufacturing secrets and we were ever atom-bombed he would be eternally disgraced. If the secrets were discovered independently he would be hounded for clutching an illusion and breeding world distrust in the process. The result was “to force Mr. Truman to find ever more complicated ways of not doing anything about the bomb.” Thus the Truman-Attlee-King statement was “equipped with two forward speeds and two reverse gears, all operating simultaneously.” No nation could have an atomic monopoly, yet we were going to keep ours. The secrets could be distributed only when the necessary confidence had been developed and we would strive to create it by working in a spirit of no confidence. By challenging others to make themselves fit to be trusted we issued a declaration of distrust.

What finally came out, Grafton continued, was a statement which instead of solving the atomic problems “perhaps makes a solution impossible,” for the effect of the communique was to rule out a world conference, or a Big Three meeting, at which all questions, including the bomb, could be placed on the table. Instead, we set up a schedule of years, “and these are the years of no solution.” It was wrong to ask any finite man to hand down a complete solution of the question, but it was not wrong to suggest that we “ought not to embroider drift and call it a solution.”⁸²

This was the situation. We had issued a declaration of distrust which set up a schedule of the years of no solution.

The scientists protested promptly. Ninety per cent of the brain power which had produced the bomb joined in a resolution which said in effect that “they were unimpressed by the communique and were frankly scared.” They demanded that the President call an immediate conference with Great Britain and the Soviet Union “to prevent a competitive arms race.” One of their number, Dr. Irving Langmuir, associate director of research of General Electric Company, warned again that there were many reasons for thinking that Russia could reach the stage of having an immense stockpile of A-bombs quicker than we could. He had been to Russia lately and mingled with their scientists. He gave them as little as three years, if the Soviet state really concentrated on it.⁸³

Langmuir pleaded that “we must break down the barriers between ourselves and Russia. Neither of us has the desire to go out and conquer the world. The Russians desire peaceful development as much as we do.” This was simple common sense. No good could come from an atomic arms race, and final disaster could easily result. But other simple ideas were more powerful: (a) we distrust the Russians; (b) they would never give us anything; (c) we made the bomb and it is ours. These were age-old attitudes, easily grasped by everybody. They required no break with the past—not even an effort on our part. Only a prompt exertion of statesmanship could keep them from taking deep root. With our leadership sharing them, we were already on our way to a world test of strength with the Soviet Union, just as if the weapons were still machine-guns.

The Russian Reaction. During the three months since Hiroshima these simple ideas had already prevailed. In Russia, too, equally simple ideas were taking firm root. Various writers had suggested soon after the President’s Navy Day address, that the Russians would not be as certain, as he was in all sincerity, that his sacred trust over atomic bombs had been established for their benefit, among others. Yet the Russian attitude did not begin to be voiced notably until Molotov’s address of November 6, on the 28th anniversary of the October Revolution.

In it he observed, mildly enough, that

“. . . it is not possible at the present time for a technical secret of any great size to remain the exclusive possession of some one country or some narrow circle of countries.

“This being so, the discovery of atomic energy should not encourage either a propensity to exploit the discovery in the play of forces in international policy or an attitude of complacency as regards the future of the peace-loving nations.”

At the close of his address there were two significant paragraphs.

“In our days of advanced technology and extended employment of science in production where it has become possible to harness atomic energy and other great technical discoveries, attention in economic planning must be focused on problems of technology, on the problem of raising the technological power of our industry and training highly skilled technological trainers. We must keep level with the achievements of present-day world technology in all branches of industry and economic life and provide conditions for the utmost advance of Soviet science and technology.

“The enemy interrupted our peaceful creative endeavor, but we shall make up properly for all lost time and see to it that our country shall flourish. We will have atomic energy and many other things, too.”

The three sentences suggested two things: that the industrial uses of atomic energy had great appeal to Soviet economic planners; and that they did not mean to stay behind in atomic achievement, or in any other scientific matters. But at this time no American dreamed of being suddenly astounded by heavy Soviet sputniks hoisted into the heavens.

After the November 15 communique the Russian response was prompt and vigorous. On November 18 the Moscow New Times carried “the sharpest and frankest article yet published about current international affairs,” saying that “The atomic bomb is a signal for reactionaries all over the world to agitate for a new crusade against the Soviet Union.” The bomb, allied policy in Germany and the Far East, and the failure of the London Conference were all being used by enemies of peace to provoke war. The article, by A. Sokoloff, specifically accused “a reactionary Catholic press in Britain” and the Hearst-McCormick press in the United States. Quoting Paul Winterton as saying that Russia could be reduced to a second rate power by the atomic bomb and that her influence could now be counteracted in Europe, he asked: “What is this if not an appeal for elimination of the Soviet Union from participation in European affairs?” Commenting on a writer in the Manchester Guardian, he asked: “Isn’t it clear that his words contain a frank appeal not only for the isolation of the Soviet Union, but for attacking her as quickly as possible?”

He added: “It is unthinkable in our country to have a situation such as exists in foreign countries where official representatives sing hymns of praise to international collaboration while influential newspapers and magazines openly make appeals for war.”⁸⁴

This thrust indicated one of the key dilemmas of our time. A free press, free to say anything it likes, is essential to democracy. Yet a few powerful press and radio figures, perhaps a hundred persons but conceivably only a dozen, can both convince the Russians that we are headed for war with them and rapidly condition the American public for such a war.

By December 15, C. L. Sulzberger wrote from London that without question the chasm of mistrust and mutual suspicion between Moscow and the West had broadened during the last two months. The irritable Moscow press and radio, which certainly reflected the Kremlin’s views, was extremely suspicious of what it called “the atomic policy,” upon which Sulzberger added this comment: “The insistence by the inventors of mankind’s most horrible weapon on withholding the secret—if it is such—from their ally has produced a most evident reaction in Moscow.”⁸⁵

The Soviet authorities had been slow to give this reaction public expression. Now that reaction was deeply matured. The Soviet leaders believed the worst when on November 7 Churchill rejoiced in President Truman’s “sacred trust” policy and said: “The possession of these powers will help the United States and our allies to build up a structure of world security.”

After the New York Times’ representative Brooks Atkinson had returned from a ten months’ stay in the Soviet Union he wrote, on July 7, 1946, that after the Moscow Conference many foreigners “believe that the Politburo made a deliberate decision to return to the status quo ante bellum and to regard foreign nations with a capitalist economy as inevitable enemies of the Soviet Union.” It is quite possible that such a decision was made early in 1946, but if so the reasons for it could hardly be found in the Moscow Conference of December 1945, since at that meeting the Western powers compromised fairly enough with the Russians. Such a decision was far more likely to be motivated by the decisions on atomic policy in the autumn.

Sharing Impractical. On November 22 Prime Minister Attlee, reporting to the House of Commons, fully associated himself with the policy of withholding the final atomic details. He explained that they could not be divulged by formula or blue-print. Foreign scientists would have to be taken to the atomic plants. To do this for all nations would be a matter of very great difficulty. It would take a long time and he could “see no reason for singling out particular nations.” He preferred to “await the growth of confidence and the development of safeguards.”

British opinion continued to be troubled over the advisability of this policy. The first reaction of the London Times, which had previously condemned the conditional sharing of bomb secrets was unfavorable, saying: “Long-term diplomatic drawbacks of secrecy in encouraging unwarranted suspicion and mistrust may well outweigh, on any view of the transaction, such temporary advantages as may be thought to derive from it.” After further consideration, also, the British continued to feel that the cart was being put before the horse in not reaching a direct understanding with Russia, as the Russians wished, before referring the problem to the UN.⁸⁶

Many Americans also felt that our responsibility for beginning the arms race was clear. Professor Harold Urey, one of the top atomic scientists, testified before the Senate Committee on Atomic Energy on November 29, 1945: “We are making bombs and storing them and are thus a threat to other countries and we are guilty of beginning the arms race.”⁸⁷ Most Americans, of course, were sure that atomic bombs in our hands could not be a threat to anybody.

The Cold War Begun. By Thanksgiving Day 1945 the pattern of the coming years of Cold War was clearly outlined.

Roosevelt and Hull had, throughout the war and in the structure of the United Nations, patiently constructed a basis for long-time collaboration with the Soviet Union. This work of high statesmanship was endangered first by Western dislike of the Soviet organization of East Europe. We disliked the fact, but even more the methods used, symbolized by the knock on the door in the night.

There was certain to be a period of strain over East Europe, though under normal post-war conditions the peak of this strain might have passed by mid-summer 1945. But after Hiroshima all previous calculations were upset. The most portentous event of centuries had occurred. Suddenly the West had a weapon such as diplomats had never had behind them. Strongly disliking Russian policy and activity in East Europe, they quickly used the A-bomb partly, though only partly, to check Russia in the Far East.

Thereafter we generously released a great deal of atomic information, far more than the Russians would have but withheld the production details without which the Russians could not make atomic bombs or build industrial plants for a few years. The Russians reacted to the distrust repeatedly voiced in the West from August to November, and to the diplomatic offensive which the new Western leaders began promptly after Hiroshima, by firmly resolving to hold their ground in East Europe and to work out the atomic energy details for themselves. In the place of the expected post-war security and relaxation they had a new and more deadly kind of insecurity and a stern challenge to the validity and continuance of their way of life. Having survived the worst that Germany could do to them, and with all power in their hands to meet the new challenge of the atom, the Soviet leaders resolved to “have atomic energy and many other things, too.”

By November 15, 1945, the conditions for an atomic arms race had been completely prepared. This date, when the West invited the Russians to go to atomic school and prove their trustworthiness, marked the formal public opening of the world struggle between the West and the East. To make it wholly certain that its fleeting atomic ascendancy would not be “given away,” the United States laid down conditions which precluded world control of atomic energy. After November 1945 the atomic arms race would go on until: (a) an increasingly nervous and angry West decided to use its atomic ascendancy in a “preventive” war; or (b) both sides eventually concluded that an atomic war would be ruinous to the “victor”; or (c) an atomic war destroyed both sides.

There would be many negotiations but no agreement on the control of atomic energy, unless and until the second conclusion might be reached. The most dangerous arms race in all human history had begun. There had been many others in the past and they had all ended in disaster—less and less limited disaster. Now man had embarked on the last armament race. This time the disaster would be limitless.

In this undeniable fact lay the only hope that men filled first with suspicion, then with fear and finally with hatred would manage to control themselves just short of catastrophe. It was a slender hope, but one which every one who believed in humanity was compelled to nourish in whatever ways are open to him—unless the ways open should all finally be closed, even in the democratic West.

The Atomic Rivals. On July 15, 1945, there was no reason to expect more than the normal post-war disagreements between the Allies, sharpened somewhat by ideological differences, and four months later, at the parting of the ways, men of good will could still believe this to be true.

On November 14, 1945, Under Secretary of State Dean Acheson made a speech on “American-Soviet Friendship” which had the balance and wisdom of statesmanship in it. He noted that “For nearly a century and a half we have gotten along well—remarkably well, when you consider that our forms of government, our economic systems, and our social habits have never been similar.” The contrast between our political institutions was no greater today than in the time of Jefferson and the Czar Alexander. By any standard the record of our relations was good.

He was not for a moment forgetting the tremendous events of 1917 and 1918 or the sixteen year blackout of diplomatic relations, which the war period had done much to repair.

Was all this long history without a war accidental? No, Acheson replied, it was due to the “immutable facts of history and geography.” There had never been any place on the globe where the vital interests of the two peoples clashed, “and there is no objective reason to suppose that there should, now or in the future, ever be such a place.” Both had the resources to create the high living standards which each desired. “Thus, the paramount interest, the only conceivable hope of both nations, lies in the cooperative enterprise of peace.”

There was no hint of the Truman Doctrine in Acheson’s mind, but it had already matured in Truman’s.⁸⁸ Asking his hearers to understand what our feelings about security would be if most of our country from the Atlantic to the Mississippi had been devastated, Acheson asked the Russians to depend upon persuasion and firmness, instead of coercion, in organizing their security zone, and to understand that we desired bases far from home in order to keep danger far from us. There was both “time and area within which to solve all questions arising out of the need of our two countries for security.”⁸⁹

This was the voice of reason and common sense. Without the advent of the atomic bomb, too, it would have been difficult for the two post-war titans to clash dangerously. The U.S.A. would have had no hopeful means of pushing Russia out of East Europe, but with the advent of the A-bomb everything became possible and everything was to be feared. Within a year the incredible war, between two nations on the opposite sides of the earth, was on everyone’s lips. At the end of two years it did not seem that the tide of war fever would ever recede.

Acheson’s speech just quoted was delivered in New York city before the National Council of American-Soviet Friendship, a fact which would soon be deeply shocking. Two years later the same organization was on the Attorney General’s public list of subversive organizations. No government official could think of setting foot on its platform, or even of being a member of the organization. Being friendly toward Russia had become a new and dangerous kind of “treason.”⁹⁰

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