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Scientists and statesmen: President Eisenhower’s science advisers and national security policy, 1953-1961

Damms, Richard Vernon, Ph.D.

The Ohio State University, 1993

Copyright ©1993 by Damms, Richard Vernon. All rights reserved.

UMI 300 N. Zeeb Rd. Ann Arbor, MI 48106

SCIENTISTS AND STATESMEN

PRESIDENT EISENHOWER’S SCIENCE ADVISERS AND NATIONAL SECURITY POLICY, 1953-1961

DISSERTATION

Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for

the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate

School of The Ohio State University

By

Richard V. Damms, B.A. Hons, M.A.

*****

The Ohio State University

1993

Dissertation Committee: Approved by

Michael J. Hogan

William R. Childs

Peter L. Hahn Department of History Copyright by Richard Vernon Damms 1993 To Jennifer

i i ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I would like to thank several people who made significant contributions to this dissertation. Jim

Leyerzapf and Kathy Struss of the Eisenhower Presidential

Library, Marjorie Ciarlante at the Civil Reference Branch of

the National Archives, and Helen Samuels at the

Massachusetts Institute of Technology greatly facilitated my

research. Linda Glasser of Lakeland Community College

library efficiently processed numerous interlibrary loan

requests. A grant from the National Science Foundation,

DIR-8911702, provided research assistance. My greatest

intellectual debt is to my adviser, Professor Michael J.

Hogan, who supplied constructive criticism and moral support

at all stages of this dissertation. Thanks also to Drs.

William R. Childs and K. Austin Kerr, in whose seminars this project began to take shape, and to Peter L. Hahn, all of whom provided helpful suggestions and comments. Finally, and most importantly, I would like to thank my wife,

Jennifer, for her love, patience, and support throughout what sometimes seemed to be an interminable process. VITA

September, 1962 ...... Born - Rotherham, England 1984 ...... B.A. Hons., University of Durham, England

1986 ...... M.A. , The Ohio State University

1985-1990 ...... Graduate Teaching Associate, The Ohio State University

1990-1991 ...... Visiting Instructor in History, University of Akron

1991-present ...... Instructor In History, Lakeland Community College Mentor, Ohio

FIELDS OF STUDY

Major Field: History

iv TABLE OF CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS...... iii

VITA...... iv

INTRODUCTION...... 1

CHAPTER I: FROM THE OLD CONSENSUS TO THE NEW: THE IMPACT OF DEPRESSION AND WAR ON GOVERNMENT-SCIENCE RELATIONS...... 12

CHAPTER II: THE POSTWAR STRUCTURE OF GOVERNMENT-SCIENCE RELATIONS...... 66

CHAPTER III: SCIENCE, SECRECY, AND SECURITY: THE LIMITS OF SCIENCE ADVICE IN THE EARLY EISENHOWER YEARS...... 165

CHAPTER IV: THE TECHNOLOGICAL CAPABILITIES PANEL AND THE EMERGENCE OF EISENHOWER’S SCIENTIFIC-TECHNOLOGICAL ELITE...... 227

CHAPTER V: THE SPUTNIK CRISIS AND THE FORMALIZATION OF SCIENCE ADVICE AT THE WHITE HOUSE ...... 274

CHAPTER VI: SCIENTISTS AND POLICY: AN ASSESSMENT OF THE ROLE OF SCIENCE ADVISERS IN THE LATER EISENHOWER YEARS...... 310

CONCLUSION ...... 355

BIBLIOGRAPHY...... 363

v INTRODUCTION

On the evening of January 17, 1961, President Dwight D. Eisenhower, in a televised speech to the nation, delivered one of the best known farewell addresses of any American

president. Displaying his customary awkwardness before the television camera, the president issued two warnings to the

American people. First, noting that the threat of instant nuclear war had required the nation to build "an immense military establishment" and a "permanent arms industry of vast proportions," he warned against "the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the military-industrial complex." Later, in a somewhat less well-known phrase, Eisenhower warned that public policy might become "the captive of a scientific-technological elite.As the president surely realized, his speech contained a powerful note of irony. Eisenhower did more than any previous peacetime president to foster the growth of the military-industrial complex and the scientific- technological elite against which he railed.

As Eisenhower noted in his Farewell Address, the

"technological revolution" of the 1950s seemed to give a sense of inevitability to these developments. During his two terms in office, military technology underwent rapid advances. The piston-engined heavy bomber employed as recently as the Korean War gave way to a new generation of

jet-propelled aircraft with greater payload, longer range, and superior performance. The American stockpile of fission weapons steadily grew in number and diversity, and by the middle of the decade thermonuclear weapons a thousand times more powerful than the bombs exploded at Hiroshima and

Nagasaki supplemented them. Primitive reconnaissance techniques utilizing limited overflights and high-flying balloons gave way to the more sophisticated jet-powered U-2 spyplane employing advanced aerial photography and capable of penetrating deep inside the Soviet Union with virtual

immunity. In his last months in office, Eisenhower authorized the first operational use of reconnaissance satellites. His administration also oversaw the birth of the missile age. Miniaturization of thermonuclear warheads coupled with improvements in rocketry and guidance systems paved the way for intercontinental ballistic missiles.

Perhaps the most sophisticated weapon system of the decade, the Polaris submarine, combined small, solid-fueled missiles with a nuclear-powered vessel of almost indefinite endurance and limited vulnerability. All of these developments gave the impression of an impersonal technological imperative driving American defense policy.

To ascribe the rise of the military-industrial complex and the emergence of a scientific-technological elite simpl

to technological determinism, however, is to ignore the rol

of Eisenhower's own concrete policy decisions and actions i

fostering these developments. Eisenhower entered office

convinced that the Soviet Union and worldwide communism posed two long-term threats to the United States: Soviet

military forces physically threatened the United States and

its allies; but a prolonged arms race also threatened the

American way of life. Eisenhower therefore fashioned a

defense policy that would meet long-term security needs

while preserving liberal-democratic institutions and the

free enterprise economy in the United States. The result

was the New Look, a defense policy designed to provide

"maximum security at minimum cost," or "more bang for the

buck." The New Look advocated increased reliance on high-

tech, capital-intensive strategic delivery systems coupled

with a reduction in more costly conventional forces.

Hopefully "massive retaliatory striking power" would deter general war with the Soviet Union. In any future limited

war, like the one in Korea, America’s allies would be

expected to provide the bulk of the manpower, while the

United States would provide air and naval support.

This emphasis on the most advanced weaponry and

technological superiority provoked keen competition among defense-related corporations, research institutions, and even universities for lucrative government contracts. It 4

also stimulated increased interservice rivalry over roles

and missions, with each service agitating for a larger share

in the favored strategic mission. In many instances, the

individual services allied with defense contractors and

local congressmen to promote weapons systems that would

simultaneously enhance the service’s mission, generate corporate profits, and provide constituent jobs. This was

precisely the sort of alliance that so concerned Eisenhower and prompted his warning about the military-industrial complex.

Eisenhower's policies similarly promoted the rise of a scientific-technological elite. As science and technology assumed increased importance in the qualitative arms race with the Soviet Union, Eisenhower turned to leaders of the scientific community in industry and the universities for advice. Throughout the 1950s, scientists, engineers, and

industrialists served as individual consultants to

Eisenhower and the National Security Council and belonged to a variety of government advisory panels and study groups.

They advised on such issues as individual weapons systems, military programs, research and development policy, and even overall national security strategy. On paper, at least, the most important of these advisory bodies was the Science

Advisory Committee of the Office of Defense Mobilization

(SAC-ODM), whose charter designated it as the president's own science advisory committee. Until 1957, SAC-ODM exerted limited influence on national security policy. In the wake of Sputnik, however, Eisenhower elevated the committee to the White House as the President’s Science Advisory

Committee (PSAC) and appointed one of its most prominent members to be his special assistant for science and technology. The public furor over Sputnik convinced

Eisenhower of the need for the best scientific advice available. He also relied on the impartial advice of his science advisers to strengthen civilian control over the armed forces by using them to adjudicate the technical merits of various proposals pushed by the military services as solutions to the nation’s national security problems. In short, Eisenhower turned to his scientific experts as a managerial tool for preserving the essentials of the New

Look, thereby safeguarding the American way of life.

Somewhat surprisingly, Eisenhower’s relations with the scientific community and the evolution of the military- industrial complex have received relatively little attention from historians. This dissertation therefore fills a significant gap in the historiography of the Eisenhower era by providing the first fully-documented examination of the emergence of Eisenhower’s own "scientific-technological elite," the special assistant for science and technology and the PSAC, and their role in shaping national security policy in the 1950s. In doing so, it analyzes the scientists’ rise to power within the broader context of the evolving relationship between science and the state.

The story of the the evolution of the presidential science advisory system illustrates one of the major themes in modern American history: the exercise of public power by private elites. Historians informed by the "corporatist" or "associationalist" analysis of modern America have noted that certain forms of power and initiative, such as national economic policy and national security policy, have increasingly been monopolized by hierarchically organized, self-regulating functional groups, such as big business, agrobusiness, and organized labor. These functional groups are tied to the state by a variety of mechanisms, and they cooperate with each other to manage society’s major affairs through self-regulation and public-private powersharing.*

This particular study shows how the leaders of the scientific community gradually became integrated into the national security state. The economic crisis of the Great

Depression first prompted some scientific leaders to abandon their traditional laissez-faire philosophy. People like

Massachusetts Institute of Technology president Karl T.

Compton sought government sanction and financial support for their efforts to fashion a national science policy, and they established the first, short-lived science advisory committee to the federal government. World War II marked a further step down the road to closer government-science collaboration. Vannevar Bush took the lead in mobilizing 7

science for war, and political and military leaders began to

appreciate that science and technology had become important components in national power. With the onset of the Cold

War, a variety of new mechanisms, such as the Atomic Energy

Commission and the National Science Foundation, came into existence to institutionalize the new alliance between science and the state. Still, scientists did not enjoy direct access to the top levels of policymaking until the

Sputnik crisis. As Eisenhower remarked at the time, the

Soviets seemed to be waging "total cold war," -and he responded by bringing scientists into the White House, the

Cabinet, and the National Security Council. By 1957,

American science appeared to be fully mobilized for the Cold

War.

Finally, like most recent works based on archival research at the Eisenhower Presidential Library, this study makes a further contribution to "Eisenhower revisionism."

It contradicts earlier interpretations of the Eisenhower administration, which characterized the president as a

"captive hero," an amiable if uninformed leader who relied heavily on the skills of such close advisers as Secretary of

State John Foster Dulles and Secretary of the Treasury

George M. Humphrey. The Eisenhower that emerges in these pages was very much an activist president who took a hands- on approach to crucial national security issues and made all the major decisions himself. While he was not always the "hidden-hand" managerial genius described by others, and

could be indecisive or even contradictory in his decisions,

there was never any doubt that he was in charge of his own

administration. He was, as earlier critics have argued, a

staunch anticommunist, as reflected in his administration’s security and loyalty programs and the Oppenheimer hearing.

He could also display something of an anti-intellectual

streak, which initially militated against a closer working

relationship with his scientific advisers. Nevertheless,

particularly after the Sputnik crisis, Eisenhower

appreciated the value of independent scientific advice at

the policymaking level. Despite his unwavering commitment

to budgetary restraint, he even became an outspoken

supporter of greater federal support for scientific research

and training. Perhaps most importantly, his scientists

reinforced his commitment to reducing East-West tensions and provided the technical support he needed to initiate steps 5 toward a nuclear test ban agreement. 9

1. Farewell Television and Radio Address to the American People, January 17, 1961, Public Papers of the Presidents: Dwight D. Eisenhower. 1960-61 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1961), 1035-40. For a recent analysis of the origins of Eisenhower’s speech and the "military-industrial complex" terminology, see Charles J. Griffin, "New Light on Eisenhower’s Farewell Address," Presidential Studies Quarterly 22 (Summer 1992): 469-79.

2. For calls for more research on the origins of the science advisory system and for studies of the interaction between the military, scientific, and political elites in the national security state, see, Alex Roland, "Science and War," in Sally Gregory Kohlstedt and Margaret W. Rossiter, eds., Historical Writing on American Science: Perspectives and Prospects (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1985), 247-72; Everett Mendelsohn, Merritt Roe Smith, and Peter Weingart, "Science and the Military: Setting the Problem," in Mendelsohn, Smith, and Weingart, eds., Science. Technology, and the Military (Dordrecht, the Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1988), xi-xxix; and Micheal S. Sherry, "War and Weapons: The New Cultural History," Diplomatic History 14 (Summer 1990): 6-22. The best analyses of the military-industrial complex from a historical perspective are Steven Rosen, ed., Testing the Theory of the Military-Industrial Complex (Lexington MA: Lexington Books, 1972); Paul A. C. Koistinen, The Military- Industrial Complex: A Historical Perspective (New York: Praeger, 1980); and Carroll W. Pursell, Jr., ed., The Military-Industrial Complex (New York: Harper and Row, 1972 ) .

3. Several recent general works, mainly by political scientists, discuss the role of scientific advisers in the Eisenhower administration within the larger context of national science policy or the evolution of the science advisory mechanisms of government. See, for example, William G. Wells, Jr., "Science Advice and the Presidency, 1933-1976," (Ph.D. dissertation, George Washington University, 1977); James Everett Katz, Presidential Politics and Science Policy (New York: Praeger, 1978); Thaddeus J. Trenn, America’s Golden Bough: The Science Advisory Intertwist (Cambridge, MA: Oelgeschlager, Gunn, and Hain, 1983); and Bruce L. R. Smith, The Advisers: Scientists in the Policy Process (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1992). All of the above rely on secondary works or published government documents and interviews. Robert S. Gilpin, American Scientists and Nuclear Weapons Pol icy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1962), and Harold K. Jacobson and Eric Stein, Diplomats, Scientists, and Politicians: The United States and the Nuclear Test Ban Negotiations (Ann Arbor: University of 10

Michigan Press, 1966), while both insightful, similarly rely on the published record. Curiously, the only detailed study of presidential science advisers by a historian, Gregg Herken’s Cardinal Choices: Presidential Science Advising from the Atomic Bomb to SDI (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), fails to make use of the extensive materials available at the Eisenhower Library.

4. For introductions to the concept of corporatism, see Philippe Schmitter, "Still the Century of Corporatism?" Review of Politics 36 (January 1974): 85-111; Ellis W. Hawley, "The Discovery and Study of a ’Corporate Liberalism,'" Business History Review 52 (Autumn 1978): 309- 20; Thomas J. McCormick, "Drift or Mastery? A Corporatist Synthesis for American Diplomatic History," Reviews in American History 10 (December 1982)) 318-30; and Michael J.Hogan, "Corporatism: A Positive Appraisal," Diplomatic History 10 (Fall 1986): 363-72. For recent examples of monographs employing a corporatist analysis, see Hawley, The Great War and the Search for a Modern Order: A History of the American People and their Institutions (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1979); Charles S. Maier, Recasting Bourgeois Europe: Stabilization in France. Germany, and Italy in the Decade after World War One (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1975); and Hogan, Informal Entente: The Private Structure of Cooperation in Anglo-American Economic Diplomacy. 1918-1928 (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1977), and The Marshall Plan: America, Britain, and the Reconstruction of Western Europe, 1947-1952 (New York: Cambridge University Press, 1987). Eisenhower’s own political philosophy is described in Robert Griffith, "Dwight D. Eisenhower and the Corporate Commonwealth," American Historical Review 87 (February 1982): 87-122.

5. Useful overviews of the changing historical interpretations of Eisenhower’s presidency are Vincent P. DeSantis, "Eisenhower Revisionism," Review of Politics 38 (April 1976): 190-207; Anthony Jones, "Eisenhower Revisionism: The Tide Comes In," Presidential Studies Quarterly 15 (Summer 1985): 561-71; Robert F. Burk, "Eisenhower Revisionism Revisited: Reflection on Eisenhower Scholarship," The Historian 50 (February 1988): 196-209; and Alan Brinkley, "A President for Certain Seasons," Wilson Quarterly 14 (Spring 1990). For examples of Eisenhower revisionism, see Arthur Larson, Eisenhower: The President Nobody Knew (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1968); Herbert S. Parmet, Eisenhower and the American Crusades (New York: Macmillan, 1972); Peter Lyon, Eisenhower: Portrait of the Hero (Boston: Little, Brown, 1974); Charles C. Alexander, Holding the Line: The Eisenhower Era. 1953-1961 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1975); Robert A. Divine, Eisenhower and the Cold War (New York: Oxford 11

University Press, 1981); Blanche W. Cook, The Declassified Eisenhower (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981); Fred I. Greenstein, The Hidden-Hand Presidency: Eisenhower as Leader (New York: Basic Books, 1982); Richard Immerman, The CIA in Guatemala: The Foreign Policy of Intervention (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982); Burton I. Kaufman, Trade and Aid: Eisenhower’s Foreign Economic Policy, 1953-1961 (Baltimore, MD : Johns Hopkins University Press, 1982); Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower: The President (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1984); Richard A. Melanson and David Mayers, eds., Reevaluating Eisenhower: American Foreign Policy in the 1950s (Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1987). For some recent, more critical assessments of Eisenhower’s leadership, see Robert J. MacMahon, "Eisenhower and Third World Nationalism: A Critique of the Revisionists," Political Science Quarterly 101 (1986): 453-73; Stephen G. Rabe, Eisenhower and Latin America: The Foreign Policy of Anticommunism (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1988); and H.W. Brands, "The Age of Vulnerability: Eisenhower and the National Insecurity State," American Historical Review 94 (October 1989): 963-89. CHAPTER I

FROM THE OLD CONSENSUS TO THE NEW: THE IMPACT OF DEPRESSION

AND WAR ON GOVERNMENT-SCIENCE RELATIONS

When Dwight D. Eisenhower entered the White House in

January, 1953, he inherited a complex web of government- science relationships. Indeed, the foundations for the military-industrial complex that would preoccupy Eisenhower in his Farewell Address had already been laid by his predecessors. In order to understand the linkages between the federal government and the nation’s scientific community by the early 1950s, we must first briefly survey the evolution of government-science relations from the New Deal through World War Two and the early days of the Cold War.

It was during this era of domestic and international crises that scientists, politicians, and military leaders reassessed their mutual roles in American society, and eventually created new arrangements to institutionalize the role of science in the nation’s affairs.

As this chapter will show, the onset of the Great

Depression led certain scientific leaders to reconsider their traditional adherence to laissez-faire social and economic theories. As the nation's research fell victim to

12 13

financial retrenchment, and as some critics attacked

scientists and engineers for failing to address the social

impact of their new innovations, the old consensus within

the scientific community broke down. A younger generation of scientific leaders cast aside the traditional fear of political control of science and sought a more active role

for themselves as advisers to the government. Karl T.

Compton, the innovative president of the Massachusetts

Institute of Technology and the Chairman of President

Franklin D .Roosevelt’s short-lived Science Advisory Board, even devised a comprehensive government program for revitalizing the nation’s research. Other scientists, operating outside of government channels, became vigorous participants in the science and society debate. Although these scientist-activists encountered opposition from the old order within their own ranks and from vested interests in the federal government, their activities in the 1930s emphatically demonstrated that scientists as a whole were no longer aloof from the nation's larger problems.

World War Two was the crucial event that crystallized a new consensus on the need for greater government-science interaction. Under the leadership of Vannevar Bush,

Compton’s former protege at MIT, the Office of Scientific

Research and Development mobilized the nation's scientific resources for war. This civilian agency, run by the nation’s leading scientists, contributed a wealth of 14

technological solutions to urgent miltary problems. Even

more dramatically, the Manhattan Project and the atomic

bombing of Japan demonstrated that, in the postwar world,

politicians and military leaders would ignore science at

their peril. By the end of the war, few believed that a return to the status quo antebellum in government-science

relations was desirable.

***

Until the 1930s, relations between the scientific

community and political leaders were generally characterized

by a sense of mutual aloofness; a condition that both

parties usually found agreeable. For their part, the

leaders of the American scientific community, as represented

by the National Academy of Sciences (NAS), had long

subscribed to an ideology defined as "best science elitism"

by one authority.^ They believed that society had an obligation to support science, particularly basic research, because it provided new knowledge and ideas which would ultimately improve the spiritual or material condition of mankind and hence advance civilization. At the same time, however, they believed that politicians should not attempt

to govern or control scientific research for political ends.

The result of such uninformed meddling would be wasted resources or poor quality research. Only the best scientists deserved support, and the only people qualified to make decisions regarding the merits of research projects 15

were scientists themselves. Until the 1930s, then, most

scientific leaders deliberately eschewed close relations

0 with the government for fear of political control.

Politicians, meanwhile, traditionally accepted a

similar laissez-faire philosophy. Before the 1930s, the federal government had constructed a significant research

system, but it usually emphasised applied research of direct

relevance to the various missions of government agencies.

Congress generally viewed government research activities

that had no immediate utilitarian ends as scientific boondoggles and a waste of public funds. The only major exception to this general rule was the Department of

Agriculture, which by the early twentieth century had built up an integrated system of basic and applied research, agricultural experimental stations, county agents, and extension services to support the nation’s farmers. Until the Great Depression, then, a consensus existed among scientific leaders and politicians: basic research should be left to the universities and private foundations; the government should only support applied research necessary for the advancement of its own missions; and commercial research should be performed in the growing number of corporate laboratories.

While mutual aloofness remained the dominant theme in government-science relations before the 1930s, scientists did, on occasion, proffer their advice to political leaders, 16

although with limited effect. The National Academy of

Sciences, itself, had been created by an Act of Congress in

1863 to serve a dual function. On the one hand, the Academy

was to be a self-perpetuating honorific society whose members would be elected by their peers on the basis of

outstanding contributions to science. On the other hand,

the Academy’s charter designated it as the official

scientific adviser to the federal government "whenever called upon by any department." In practice, however, the

former function always overshadowed the latter. The

Academy, the "established church" of the scientific community, always remained wary of too intimate a relationship with the federal government and the concomitant danger of political control of science.^ Its members did respond to numerous requests for technical assistance from various government agencies from time to time, but its advisory role remained an essentially passive one until the

First World War.*’

With the outbreak of war in Europe in 1914, a small group of reformers within the Academy saw an opportunity to revitalize their moribund institution. George Ellery Hale, the distinguished astronomer and an admirer of the prestigious European scientific academies, urged the NAS to play a more active role in directing the nation’s research effort. He recommended expanding the annual membership quota to bring in younger researchers, cooperating with 17 other local and national scientific societies, and dispensing research funds to promising young investigators.

In addition, as an Anglophile and a committed interventionist, he advocated using the Academy’s scientific resources to assist President Woodrow Wilson’s preparedness efforts. At the April, 1916, annual meeting of the Academy,

Hale sponsored a resolution stating that in the event of a break in diplomatic relations with Germany, the Academy would place itself at the disposal of the government.

Coming just one day after Wilson’s ultimatum to Germany over the torpedoing of the French passenger liner Sussex, the members unanimously endorsed the resolution. A week later,

Hale and Academy president William Henry Welch convinced

President Wilson of the importance of research to the nation’s defense. Wilson formally requested the Academy to form a committee to encourage both pure and applied research directed toward "the national security and welfare." In

June, the Academy established its National Research Council

(NRC), chaired by Hale, to promote cooperation among the nation’s research institutions. Its members would be drawn from the nation’s leading scientists and engineers in the universities, industry, and government. Hale hoped that the

NRC would become a permanent body and would serve as the instrument to fulfill his grand design for a coordinated national research program under the direction of the g nation’s leading scientists. 18

From the outset, Hale took great pains to organize the

Council in the scientific community's tradition of political elitism, thereby maintaining its freedom of action. To insulate the Council from government interference, he sought funding from sympathetic businessmen and private sources, such as the Engineering Foundation, the Carnegie

Corporation, and the Rockefeller Foundation, rather than the public purse. While the NRC "acted" as the scientific department of the newly created Council of National Defense,

Hale insisted on the NRC’s administrative independence from the new agency. Finally, although the government could nominate representatives to the NRC, the actual power of appointment rested with the National Academy. In short,

Hale intended the NRC to be a largely autonomous private body charged with performing a public function: the mobilization of science for defense.

In practice, the wartime performance of the NRC failed to live up to Hale’s expectations. Hale, himself, withdrew into the background once hostilities commenced in April,

1917, leaving Chicago physicist Robert A. Millikan, the executive officer of the NRC, to direct the Council’s activities. Millikan, while sympathetic toward the idea of building up an independent central scientific agency to direct the nation’s research effort, felt that the Council’s immediate priority was to help win the war. Consequently, in the summer of 1917, Millikan reluctantly agreed with Army 19

and Navy leaders that the quickest method of mobilizing

civilian scientific talent for the military was to put NRC

scientists into military uniform. Millikan, himself,

accepted a commission in the Officers Reserve Corps to become chief of the Signal Corps Science and Research Division. Even William Welch, president of the National

Academy, accepted a commission from the surgeon general of

the Army to engage in medical research. This enlistment of

leading civilian scientists secured military funds for NRC

research projects in such areas as antisubmarine warfare and artillery ranging, but it effectively undermined any prospect of the NRC acting as an impartial critic and independent initiator of ideas. By commissioning scientists and engineers, the military services effectively captured the NRC and preserved their own professional prerogatives in 0 the area of military research and development.

In 1918, the NRC leaders began to consider ways to guarantee the future legal status of the Council and to fulfill Hale’s original intention of an organization to stimulate the nation’s basic research. Hale, Millikan and other prominent members of the NRC, most notably Gano Dunn of J. D. White Engineering Company, Frank B. Jewett and John

J. Carty of American Telephone and Telegraph, and chemist

Arthur A. Noyes, drafted a proposed executive order for

President Wilson. On May 11, 1918, after minor changes in the original draft, Wilson issued Executive Order 2859 20 creating a permanent National Research Council under the auspices of the National Academy of Sciences. Its primary duty would be "to stimulate research ... with the object of increasing knowledge, of strenghtening the national defense, q and of contributing in other ways to the public welfare." By remaining under the Academy's purview, the NRC shared the

Academy’s authority as statutory science adviser to the federal government, while the Academy retained the power of appointment to the NRC. Thus, scientists, themselves, would play the major role in directing the nation’s research effort.^

Throughout the 1920s, the NRC leadership’s prewar aversion to political control of science remained strong, resulting in limited contact with the federal government and virtual abandonment of any pretense at becoming an active science adviser. In fact, the NRC’s Division on Government

Relations, established as a liaison between the scientific community and the government, rarely met. Instead, the NRC placed primary emphasis on promoting basic research through a program of postdoctoral fellowships and research grants to individual scientists in the universities, financed by contributions from private research foundations like the

Rockefeller Foundation and the Carnegie Corporation. The fact that several members of the NRC Executive Council, such as John C. Merriam and Simon Flexner, also served on the boards of trustees of the major research foundations greatly 21 facilitated cooperation between theses bodies, and resulted in a sort of interlocking directorate for the promotion of basic research."

The NRC’s efforts to mobilize private funds for basic research culminated in an ambitious proposal in 1925 for a National Research Endowment, later renamed the National

Research Fund. Hale and his allies argued that basic research in the United States had not benefited from the boom in corporate research after the war. Whereas many industries had recognized that investing in applied research might give them a competitive advantage, few had been willing to devote resources to basic research, whose immediate value seemed less tangible. As a result, by 1926, the United States was spending approximately $200 million per year on applied research, mostly in government and industrial laboratories, compared with a mere $10 million per year for basic research, centered in the universities and foundations. Hale and the NRC argued that this neglect was shortsighted because basic research constituted the "raw material" of applied research, and because pure research in

Europe, the traditional source of much new fundamental knowledge, had not yet recovered from the effects of the war. In order to rectify this problem, the NRC leaders proposed the National Research Endowment. The fund would be capitalized at $20 million, mainly with corporate contributions, and would administer direct research grants 22 through a board of trustees comprising representatives of the Academy and private industry. Secretary of Commerce

Herbert C. Hoover, whose associational activities had promoted similar efforts at enlightened voluntarism in the private sector, agreed to chair the Fund and serve as principal cheerleader. 12

In spite of its much-publicized launch and early promises of financial support from AT&T and U.S. Steel, the

National Research Fund ultimately failed for several reasons. First, the emphasis on enlightened, voluntary cooperation proved misplaced. No corporate donors wanted to subsidize the generation of new knowledge which would then be made freely available to their competitors who had not invested in the Fund. This was not such a serious concern for AT&T and U.S. Steel, however, because they already dominated their respective industries so completely. In addition, Hoover resigned the chairmanship of the NRF to run for president in 1928, leaving the Fund without an able administrator who could command respect in both the scientific community and the private sector. Finally, the economic downturn at the end of the decade and the onset of the Great Depression dealt the coup de grace to the Fund.

In 1934, the board of trustees returned some $350,000 to contributors without having made any research grants whatsoever.^

The economic crisis of the 1930s not only killed off the National Research Fund, but it also unleashed forces

that fractured the old laissez-faire consensus within the

scientific community. The depression directly hurt

scientists as government, industry, and the universities all

trimmed their budgets and reduced the amount of research being performed. Franklin D. Roosevelt fulfilled his pre­

election promises to cut the federal budget, including a

massive 60 per cent reduction in the Fiscal Year 1932

appropriation for scientific research. This fiscal

retrenchment in the government scientific bureaus continued

for the next few years, forcing cuts in personnel and

further curtailment of research. Industrial research

laboratories endured similar financial constraints. General

Electric and AT&T laid off 50 per cent and 40 per cent of

their researchers respectively, and Westinghouse temporarily

suspended all pure research. Industrial research budgets only regained their 1931 levels in 1935. Finally, the budget cuts hit academia hard. Between 1930 and 1934, private institutions reduced their faculty by almost eight per cent, and public institutions cut their faculty almost seven per cent. The more senior faculty members usually kept their positions, but they often suffered pay cuts and larger teaching loads. In these circumstances, some scientists found it hard to adhere to the old orthodoxy of political aloofness. In August, 1933, for example, several

Columbia University physicists, led by Nobel laureate Arthur 24 Holly Compton, circulated an open letter to Roosevelt calling for the restoration of government funds for scientific research.**

In addition to economic difficulties, scientists also experienced a cultural crisis stemming from the depression. During the prosperity of the 1920s, the prevailing assumption had been that scientific advancement, technological innovation, material abundance, and social progress were all inextricably linked, a notion encouraged by scientific leaders like Robert Millikan. After the Great

Crash and the onset of the depression, however, increasing numbers of social critics attributed rising levels of unemployment to science and technology. Although no prominent American endorsed the radical proposal espoused by the Bishop of Ripon in Great Britain for a research moratorium, many observers urged scientists and engineers to take greater responsibility for the social consequences of their research. Secretary of Agriculture Henry A. Wallace, one of the few New Dealers genuinely sympathetic to the scientists’ plight and head of the federal government’s largest research empire, gently chided scientists for their continued commitment to outmoded laissez-faire political notions. He called on scientists and engineers to use their special skills to help solve the nation’s economic and social problems. Although Millikan initially led the scientists’ counter-attack by reiterating the old dogma that 25 unfettered research would develop new industries, create

jobs, and end the depression, other scientists adopted a

somewhat more conciliatory tone and began to act along the lines suggested by Wallace. 15

The economic crisis of the 1930s also coincided with a

changing of the guard among the nation's scientific elite,

which further undermined the old order. Within the NRC, the

aging leadership of Hale, Millikan, and Noyes recognized

that the Council needed to be revitalized through internal

reorganization and the infusion of new, younger blood. In

1932, the NRC adopted a reorganization plan that greatly

strengthened the Council’s chairmanship by making it a full­

time, salaried position equivalent in rank to that of a university president. The NRC inner circle then selected

the fifty-two-year-old geographer, Isaiah Bowman, to fill the new position. Bowman’s background and temperament

seemed ideally suited to the role of statesman of science.

A graduate of Yale and Harvard, Bowman held a professorship at Yale and had been director of the American Geographical

Society. Equally important for the position of NRC chairman, Bowman had considerable political experience. In

1919, he had served as chief territorial specialist to the

American delegation at the Versailles peace conference, and he had subsequently represented the United States at numerous international conferences. He had also participated in the founding of the Council on Foreign 26 Relations. Through such activities, Bowman had become

personally acquainted with several leading political

figures, including Franklin D. Roosevelt. These political

connections convinced the NRC inner circle that Bowman would 1 C be an effective advocate for science in Washington. The old guard within the NRC also groomed Princeton

physicist Karl T. Compton for a leadership role within the

scientific community. A veteran of the World War One

scientific mobilization, Compton had served under Millikan

in the Army Signals Corps, and had later worked for the

NRC’s fellowship board. Although somewhat overshadowed

intellectually by his younger Nobel Prize-winning brother,

Arthur, Karl Compton had nevertheless received professional recognition for his research on the ionization of gases through election to the National Academy of Sciences and to the presidency of the American Physical Society. He had also played a major role in founding the American Institute of Physics. Moreover, as a consultant to General Electric,

Compton effectively bridged the worlds of academic and industrial research. When the MIT Corporation, led by GE president Gerard Swope, sought a new president to modernize the school by building up research and teaching in the pure sciences, NRC members Millikan, Noyes, and Jewett strongly recommended Compton for the job. Compton assumed the presidency of MIT in 1930, and quickly set about revitalizing the institution. He also used his position to 27 rival Millikan as the nation’s leading spokesman for science.17

The rise to prominence of Bowman and Compton represented an important turning point in the relationship between science and government. Although they had been cultivated, recruited, and advanced by the NRC leadership, they did not share the older generation’s paralytic fear of government. To be sure, neither man wanted government control of science, but they both believed that the nation’s urgent problems required a new partnership between the private leaders of science and the government. They hoped to dispel the popular notion that science was responsible for the depression, provide scientific inputs into government policymaking, and fashion a government-sponsored national program for science. In effect, their ideas for science mirrored those of "corporate liberals" in the business sector. Such prominent business leaders as Gerard

Swope and Owen D. Young of General Electric envisioned an enlarged role for the government, in partnership with the private sector, as a means of guaranteeing order, progress, and stability in the national economy. They believed that public-private collaboration in national planning would avoid the extremes of chaotic laissez-faire competition on the one hand and rigid statism on the other. Indeed,

Swope’s own plan for a state-sponsored cartelization of

American business formed one of the roots of the Roosevelt 28

administration’s National Industrial Recovery Act of 1933.

Not surprisingly, Bowman and Compton saw the NIRA as an

opportunity to further their goal of a new partnership

10 between science and government.

No sooner had Bowman arrived in Washington to assume the chairmanship of the NRC than he began building bridges

to the Roosevelt administration. In July, 1933, he broached

the idea of a science advisory board to the Industrial

Recovery Board created under the NIRA. Three such advisory

boards for industry, labor, and consumers had already been

established. Secretary of Commerce Daniel C. Roper seemed

lukewarm to the idea, and preferred an arrangement whereby

the NRC would work through Gerard Swope’s existing

Industrial Advisory Board. Secretary of Agriculture

Wallace, however, whose Weather Bureau had been the subject

of recent criticism from the American Society of Civil

Engineers, welcomed the idea of an impartial group of

leading scientists to provide technical advice to the

various government scientific bureaus. With Wallace's

encouragement, Bowman prepared a draft executive order for

such a body, which the Secretary forwarded to the President.

On July 31, Roosevelt issued Executive Order 6238, based on

Bowman’s draft, creating a "Science Advisory Board under the

National Research Council" for a period of two years.^

The Board would have "authority, acting through the machinery and under the jurisdiction of the National Academy 29

of Sciences and the National Research Council, to appoint

committees to deal with specific problems in the various

departments." Roosevelt named Bowman’s own list of

candidates as members, including Karl Compton as chairman,

president W. W. Campbell of the National Academy, Bowman, and NRC veterans Gano Dunn, Frank Jewett, and Robert

Millikan.^

From its very inception, however, the SAB fell victim

to internal squabbling over its proper role. Academy

president Campbell felt aggrieved that he had not been fully consulted about the creation of the new board, and believed

that the SAB had usurped the Academy’s statutory role as science adviser to the federal government. He campaigned vigorously, although without success, to have the wording of

the original executive order changed so that the SAB would

fall clearly under the authority of the Academy, and not the

NRC. Moreover, Campbell fretted that the presidentially- appointed board represented the worst kind of political

intrusion into the affairs of science. Only fellow scientists, as represented by the Academy, were competent to select suitable scientific advisers. Campbell saw his worst

fears realized in May, 1934, when Roosevelt made six additional appointments to the SAB, two of whom were not

Academy members. Within the SAB, Campbell’s conservative views generally received the support of Millikan, Jewett,

Dunn and John C. Merriam, president of the Carnegie 30 Institution of Washington. 21

Compton and Bowman emphatically did not share

Campbell’s reservations about the board. They believed that the Academy had for too long abdicated its advisory function, and that the membership was now incapable of performing such a role. In Bowman’s opinion, the Academy consisted of "men of technical or professional accomplishment who have no sense of organization, no sense of responsibility for science in government, and no breadth of outlook with respect to the relations and obligations of science to society." 22 Whereas Campbell viewed the presidentially-appointed board as political intrusion into science, Compton argued that the "prestige and authority" of presidential appointment provided the scientists of the SAB with the necessary political leverage and support for dealing with the various government agencies. 23

At its first meeting in August, 1933, the Science

Advisory Board agreed on a mode of operation that would later be adopted in slightly modified form by the

President’s Science Advisory Committee in the 1950s. After receiving a request for advice from a government bureau, the

SAB would form a committee to address the problem. Usually, the committee would be chaired by a member of the board, but the remaining personnel would be selected from among the scientific community as a whole on the basis of specific expertise. The SAB, itself, whose members would serve 31 without compensation and whose expenses were to be covered

by grants from the Rockefeller Foundation, would hold full

meetings every two months. During its little more than two

years of existence, the board addressed a wide variety of

technical issues ranging from weather forcasting to soil depletion. Generally, its advice to government agencies

called for maintaining or increasing federal research

budgets, rationalizing government research to avoid wasteful duplication, and increasing the amount of basic research

9 J performed in government laboratories.

The first SAB meeting also revealed that Compton

intended the board to be more than an advisory body to the

federal government. The chairman unveiled an early version of what he would later call "A Recovery Program of Science

Progress." In effect, Compton proposed a New Deal for science, under the auspices of the National Industrial

Recovery Act, to provide relief to unemployed "scientists, engineers, mechanics, assistants, and apparatus makers." He envisioned a $16 million program over six years "in support of research in the natural sciences and their applications," to be administered by the Academy’s National Research

Council. Compton pointed out that such a program would yield knowledge essential for future improvements in public works and for the creation of new industries. Moreover, by relieving the "acute" unemployment among scientists and engineers, the nation would safeguard its "chief asset for 32

defense in time of war or for economic progress in time of «r peace." Compton did not share the fear of his more

conservative colleagues that federal funding for research

would result in political control of science because

scientists within the NRC would administer his program. In September, after receiving grudging approval from the board,

Compton submitted his plan to Public Works Administrator

Harold L. Ickes, who expressed sympathy but promptly quashed

it on the grounds that the definition of public works under

the NIRA could not be stretched to include research.

Despite this early rebuff, Compton persisted in his

efforts to fashion a national program for science and to make science an integral part of planning for the future.

In a series of articles, Compton vigorously defended science against its critics and publicized his ideas for a national science policy. Compton refuted allegations that science was responsible for the depression, remarking that

"overproduction arises from competition for profits and not

from science" and that "underconsumption arises from a paucity rather than a plethora of desirable products of

science." He confidently asserted that "the overwhelming

influence of science has been to create employment, business, wealth, health, and satisfaction." 27

Compton publicly took the Roosevelt administration to task for "lamentable lack of vision in its failure to build for the future, through science." Any national program to 33 stimulate new industries and generate jobs, he argued, could

not afford to neglect the scientific research from which the

new industries ultimately would spring. Nevertheless, he

argued, the aggregate budgets of the government’s scientific bureaus amounted to less than 0.5 per cent of the total federal budget, and most of these funds went into routine

testing or surveys rather than innovative research. He

contrasted this relative governmental neglect of science in

the United States with conditions in Europe, where the

Soviet Union, Great Britain, and Italy had initiated national research programs. Compton particularly admired

the British model of public-private powersharing. There, an advisory council of scientists and engineers to the

Department of Scientific and Industrial Research, chosen in consultation with the Royal Society, effectively disbursed government funds for research to deserving government laboratories, universities, and industrial associations.

Compton pessimistically concluded that, to date, the United

States had been "more lucky than intelligent" in its

00 national science policy.

Compton’s proposed remedy was his "National Program for

Putting Science to Work," a comprehensive national science policy. First, he reiterated his earlier suggestion that a portion of public works funds should be allocated for scientific and engineering research to improve future public works projects. Second, and more importantly, Compton 34 modified the earlier National Research Fund idea along the lines of the British model. He proposed a National Research

Administration with a budget of $100 million over five years which would be allocated for fellowships and research projects in the universities, the foundations, and trade associations. In order to insulate this allocation of public funds for research from politics, the Administration would consist of twelve directors appointed by the president of the United States on the recommendation of the National

Academy of Sciences. The president of the NAS and the chairman of the NRC would serve as ex officio members.

Finally, Compton argued that the SAB, which was scheduled to expire in 1935, should be continued indefinitely and that

Congress should appropriate $100,000 per year for its operating expenses. 29

Compton’s "National Program for Putting Science to

Work" ultimately fell victim to divisions and rivalries within the scientific community and to the professional jealousy of social scientists within the Roosevelt administration. Although Compton enjoyed significant support among many scientists, notably the American

Association for the Advancement of Science (AAAS), which elected him president in December, 1934, and whose executive committee petitioned the Roosevelt administration for the adoption of Compton’s program, the Science Advisory Board itself became hopelessly divided. Campbell and the more conservative faction argued that if scientists handled

federal money they could no longer be considered impartial

advisers to the government. Jewett, meanwhile, reiterated

the old fear that federal funds for science would eventually

entail "bureaucratic control." 30 At the March, 1935

meeting of the board, Campbell, who had been maneuvering

behind the scenes to have the SAB replaced by a new

committee clearly under the Academy’s purview, led the

conservative majority in vetoing Compton’s proposal to

perpetuate the SAB. Meanwhile, a few weeks earlier, Harold

Ickes' National Resources Board had already evaluated

Compton’s program and specifically rejected the idea of a

federal research fund adrainstered by private scientists.

Board member Frederick A. Delano, the president’s uncle, had

questioned the propriety of such an arrangement, and social

scientists on the NRB had pointedly noted the absence of any

provision for federal support for their respective

disciplines. By the spring of 1935, then, Compton’s grandiose plans for a new partnership between science and

government had been gutted, and at the end of the year the Science Advisory Board expired. 31

The demise of the SAB represented a short-term victory

for the more conservative forces in the scientific community

and for social scientists within the administration. To the delight of Academy diehards, the SAB’s advisory functions

passed to a revamped version of the Academy’s formerly defunct Committee on Government Relations. Not surprisingly, the committee soon reverted to its earlier passivity, and the Academy eventually abolished it altogether in 1939. Within the federal bureaucracy, meanwhile, responsibility for devising long-range science policy passed to the newly-created Science Committee of

Harold Ickes’ National Resources Board, now renamed the

National Resources Committee, and later called the National

Resources Planning Board. To the dismay of the Academy's natural scientists, the Science Committee included nominees of the Social Science Research Council and the American

Council on Education in addition to the Academy. The committee did conduct a major study of the federal research establishment, published as Research — A National Resource. but it never attempted to fashion a national science program.32

Compton found the entire SAB episode personally frustrating, but his ideas for a new government-science partnership remained influential, particularly among younger scientists. Within a few years, as the United States became drawn into the larger international crisis, the Roosevelt administration would become more receptive to the idea of an in-house group of scientific advisers, particularly with regard to military research and development. Moreover, toward the end of the war, Compton’s proposal for a federally-funded scientific research program would be reborn 37 in a report by his MIT protege, Vannevar Bush, that eventually laid the basis for the National Science

Foundation.

Within the larger scientific community, meanwhile, the domestic and international crises of the 1930s shattered the old apolitical consensus. The American Association for the

Advancement of Science, taking its cue from Henry Wallace, initiated a series of "Science and Society" conferences which began to address the social consequences of scientific research. Respected anthropologist Franz Boas led a scientific crusade to counteract fascist and other racist propaganda at home and abroad, eventually culminating in the creation of the American Committee for Democracy and

Intellectual Freedom (ACDIF) in 1939. The ACDIF attracted support from scientists across the political spectrum, ranging from the ultra-conservative Robert Millikan to the avowedly Marxist MIT mathematician Dirk Struik, and championed a number of civil-libertarian causes. Finally, several hundred progressive-minded scientists joined the

American Association of Scientific Workers (AASW), established in 1938 and modeled on the British Association of Scientific Workers. The organizers initially intended the AASW to serve as both a trade union for scientists and as an agent for domestic reform, but it soon became preoccupied with the European crisis, denouncing Nazism and organizing a boycott of German scientific products. 38

Clearly, by 1939, many members of the scientific community had departed from their laissez-faire tradition and had become overtly politicized. 32

***

Although the Great Depression convinced Compton, Bowman, and others of the necessity of a new partnership between government and science, political and military leaders remained skeptical until the outbreak of hostilities in Europe. As already noted, President Roosevelt allowed his Science Advisory Board to expire at the end of 1935.

Similarly, the armed services jealously guarded their own prerogatives in the area of military research and development, insisting that military requirements and not the imagination of civilian scientists would determine the development of new weapons. Although the Army and Navy technical bureaus employed some civilian scientists and engineers in their laboratories, relations between these researchers and the military hierarchy were often strained.

The military’s obsession with secrecy ran counter to the researchers’ desire for academic freedom and free exchange of information. Moreover, in an era of isolationist sentiment and low appropriations, neither the Army nor the

Navy had the money to pay for outside expert technical help from industrial and academic researchers. When the National

Research Council offered its services to the Army in 1934, for example, Major General Robert E. Callan, the assistant 39 chief of staff for supply, made it clear that the Army had neither the money nor the inclination to seek outside civilian advice on an ongoing basis. 34

As the international situation deteriorated, however, several leaders of the scientific community, alarmed at the nation’s woeful state of military preparedness, set out to convince the Roosevelt administration and the military of the need to mobilize the nation’s scientific resources. The international nature of science meant that most American scientists tended to have a greater awareness of the political situation in Europe than the American people as a whole. Some scientists, particularly physicists, had pursued graduate studies in Europe in the interwar years.

Other researchers had personal friends who had been subject to fascist persecution. In addition, the steady influx into

American universities of such prominent refugee scientists as Albert Einstein, James Franck, Hans Bethe, Enrico Fermi, and others provided tangible evidence of worsening conditions in Europe. By the late 1930s, scientists were in the forefront of the emerging preparedness lobby. The

American Committee for Democracy and Intellectual Freedom and the American Association of Scientific Workers circulated petitions denouncing fascist supression of science and condemning aggression. Meanwhile, a small coterie of the nation’s scientific elite, led by Vannevar Bush, quietly worked to gain the President’s ear.^ 40 By 1939, Bush had built a considerable reputation as a

researcher, teacher, engineer, entrepreneur, and

administrator. The son of a Universalist minister, Bush was

educated at Tufts College, where he briefly held an

instructorship in mathematics before obtaining the unusual distinction of a doctorate in engineering awarded jointly by

Harvard and MIT in 1916. During the First World War, Bush worked at the National Research Council’s New London,

Connecticut facility on a submarine detection device for the

Navy. In 1919, he became an associate professor of power transmission in MIT’s department of electrical engineering, where his stimulating teaching soon earned him a devoted following of graduate students. He also vigorously pursued his own research, resulting in numerous patentable devices.

Among the most important of these were an improved vacuum tube, which led to the creation of a new business enterprise, the Raytheon Company, and the differential analyzer, a mechanical forerunner of the electronic analogue computer. By the end of the' 1920s, Bush enjoyed considerable professional renown in both industrial and academic circles, and his MIT department attracted approximately one-third of all the electrical engineering graduate students in the country.

During the 1930s, Bush turned his talents to administrative affairs. His successful management of MIT’s electrical engineering department, including his effective 41

handling of external relations with electrical companies,

trade associations, and wealthy donors, brought him to the

attention of the new university president, Karl Compton. In

1932, Compton appointed Bush dean of the School of

Engineering and vice president of MIT. When Compton became chairman of the Science Advisory Board, he selected Bush to head one of its ad hoc committees, and over the next few

years Bush grew increasingly involved in government-science relations. In 1938, he became a member of the National

Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA), a governmental agency originally established in 1915 for the purpose of promoting aeronautical research, including military research, with federal funds. When he moved to Washington,

D.C. the next year to assume the presidency of the Carnegie

Institution of Washington, one of the nation’s leading private research foundations, he also took over the chairmanship of NACA. It was through this committee’s activities that Bush became fully aware of the nation’s inadequate state of military preparedness. 36

Bush soon found that many of his close friends and colleagues among the nation’s scientific elite shared his pro-Ally and interventionist sentiments. Collectively, this small group of associates represented the various "estates" of science: private industry, the universities, the foundations, and government. Frank Jewett, one of the NRC old guard, was a distinguished industrial scientist and the 42 director of AT&T’s Bell Labs, and he had just been elected

president of the National Academy of Sciences, the first

industrial researcher to enjoy such a distinction. Karl

Compton, Bush’s mentor, headed the nation’s leading scientifically oriented technical institution. James B. Conant, an accomplished chemist, presided over Harvard

University, and had already attracted criticism from some students and alumni for joining William Allen White’s

Committee to Defend America by Aiding the Allies. Finally,

Bush, himself, as president of the Carnegie Institution of

Washington and chairman of NACA bridged the worlds of private and public research. Together, this influential group discussed how best to mobilize the nation’s scientific and technical resources for the war that they felt was inevitable, while at the same time preserving the tradition of best science elitism.^

As veterans of the World War One mobilization effort,

Bush and his colleagues sought to learn from past experience. They all agreed that the military services lacked the capability to innovate in the area of new weapons, and that they needed more contact with leading civilian scientists and engineers. They also agreed, however, that the Academy’s National Research Council had lacked the money and the authority to coordinate the military’s research effort in World War One. Moreover, they wanted to avoid a repetition of the earlier mobilization 43 experience whereby the armed services had effectively

"captured" civilian scientists by putting them in uniform.

At a May, 1940, luncheon meeting, Bush and his group agreed

upon a solution. They would seek the creation of a new,

temporary federal agency, analagous to the National Advisory

Committee for Aeronautics, which would be appointed by and

be responsible to the president, and would disburse federal

funds for military research. By staffing the agency with

the nation’s leading researchers, predominantly members of

the Academy, and by awarding contracts to existing university and industrial facilities rather than creating

new federal laboratories, Bush believed that he could both preserve the old order in the research community and recruit the nation’s best technical talent for the war effort. 38

Bush’s plans came to fruition partly through a somewhat unlikely friendship with Harry S. Hopkins, the Secretary of

Commerce and Roosevelt’s confidant. As a Hoover Republican,

Bush deplored the centralizing tendencies of the New Deal and viewed social experimenters like Hopkins with deep suspicion. Nevertheless, Bush was soon won over by Hopkins’ tireless devotion to the President and his self-deprecating sense of humor. At a meeting to discuss plans for an

inventors’ council to assess the merits of technical proposals submitted by the public for the war effort, Bush convinced Hopkins to endorse his own plan for a National

Defense Research Committee (NDRC). The two men also agreed 44

that the inventors’ council should be established in the

Department of Commerce so that the precious time and talents

of the nation’s leading scientists would not be diverted

from vital war work. A few days later, Hopkins took Bush

into the Oval Office and helped to sell the NDRC idea to the President. Roosevelt, who no doubt welcomed support for the preparedness effort wherever he could find it, issued an

executive order on June 27, 1940, establishing the National

Defense Research Committee as an agency of the Council of

National Defense, a cabinet-level advisory group first established during World War One. As part of the Executive

Office of the President, the NDRC had access to the

President’s emergency funds. 39

Roosevelt’s executive order adopted Bush’s plan in its entirety. The President gave the NDRC broad authority to coordinate "scientific research on the mechanisms of warfare," to assist the research activities of the Army and

Navy, and to conduct its own military research through contracts "with individuals, educational or scientific

institutions ... and industrial organizations." He named

Bush chairman of NDRC, appointed Academy president Jewett and Commissioner of Patents Conway P. Coe as ex officio members, and named the rest of Bush’s circle to the committee along with Richard C. Tolman, a respected theoretical chemist from the California Institute of

Technology who had already offered his services to the 45

preparedness effort. In addition, the Army and Navy each

received one delegate on the committee. All members of the committee served without compensation, but received a

transportation allowance and per diem while on NDRC business.U • 40 At its first formal meeting in July, the committee established its basic operating principles and procedures.

Bush, as chairman, assumed responsibility for coordinating the work of the committee with other government agencies and

for liaison with the President, the Congress, and the armed services. Each of the other civilian members headed one of five general-purpose research divisions: Tolman for armor and ordnance; Conant for chemicals and explosives; Jewett for communications and transportation; Compton for radar and allied problems; and Coe for patents and inventions. The individual division heads had authority to establish separate sections to address specific military problems. In this way, the sections assumed responsibility for day-to-day technical work, leaving the leadership of the NDRC free to concentrate on broader issues of policy. This pyramidal structure reflected Bush’s faith in the collegial model of governance employed in the universities, the Academy's NRC, and his own Carnegie Institution of Washington. He believed that technical decisions should be left to those at the working level who possessed the required competence, while overall coordination should rest in the hands of a strong 46 commi ttee.^

By the spring of 1941, the NDRC had opened a London

office for liaison with the British and had already let over

a hundred research contracts to universities and

corporations. Nevertheless, Bush felt that the committee had to be reorganized to overcome several weaknesses.

First, some military officers disliked the idea of an

independent civilian agency conducting research into new

weapons, which seemed to be an unwarranted intrusion into

military affairs, and simply ignored the scientists’ work.

As a result, Bush wanted to broaden the authority of the

NDRC beyond research on new military devices to the

development of preliminary models, thereby bypassing

military conservatism. In addition, the NDRC had begun to

outgrow the President’s limited emergency funds and needed

access to congressional appropriations. Finally, the

original committee had made no provision for research in

military medicine, and Bush now wanted to include that

field, in part to offset moves by the American Medical

Association for an independent medical research

committee.^

In June of 1941, again through the good offices of

Harry Hopkins, Bush secured an executive order creating a

new operating agency, the Office of Scientific Research and

Development (OSRD). The existing NDRC and a new seven-man

Committee on Medical Research (CMR) became branches of the 47

OSRD, and Bush assumed the directorship of the new

organization. Conant moved up from the chemical division to

replace Bush as chairman of NDRC. As its name implied, the

OSRD had authority both to research and develop new weapons

independently of the armed services, and it obtained the requisite access to congressional appropriations. Moreover,

Roosevelt charged Bush and OSRD with the coordination of the

entire defense research effort. To facilitate this task,

Bush was to be supported by an advisory council comprising

the chairmen of the NDRC, the CMR and NACA, and one

representative each from the Army and Navy. By the time the

Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor in December, 1941, Bush and his colleagues had already performed almost eighteen months of important military research and development. 43

Despite some early misgivings among military leaders about civilian scientists shaping military research policy,

Bush soon developed an effective working relationship with the armed forces. In order to allay the military’s concern about security in civilian research laboratories, the OSRD

implemented a strict policy of compartmentalization whereby

researchers had access only to information considered necessary for their particular task. The OSRD’s leadership also made a concerted effort to keep civilian researchers focused on weapons and devices likely to be of immediate military value. Finally, Bush tried to minimize direct conflicts with the military by means of constant 48

consultation. When necessary, however, he had no hesitation

in asserting his legal authority or using his direct access

to the President to keep the military in line.**

The tangible products of OSRD contracts played an

important role in converting military leaders to the idea of a close partnership with civilian researchers. Perhaps no single OSRD-funded enterprise made a more important contribution to the Allied war effort than the Radiation

Laboratory at MIT. Under the directorship of Lee A.

DuBridge, chairman of the physics department at Rochester

University and a former Republican isolationist, the "Rad

Lab" pioneered the development of microwave radar. By the end of the war, the Rad Lab consisted of a dozen divisions, occupied a score of Cambridge buildings, employed some 4,000 people, almost 500 of whom were trained physicists, and had spent some $1.5 billion. Its early products included an airborne interception device for night-fighters and a similar airborne system for detecting surfaced submarines.

The latter played a vital role in turning the tide in the

Battle of the Atlantic in 1943. Later, as the Allies took the offensive, the Rad Lab developed a radar bomb aiming system to assist strategic bombers operating in overcast conditions. In addition, the laboratory diversified into long-wave radar to produce a long-range navigation system, or Loran, to help aircraft and ships determine their location. DuBridge and his staff later liked to remark, 49 with some justification, that the atomic bomb ended the war, but radar won it. 45

Undoubtedly, the atomic bomb project was the most spectacular example of wartime collaboration between scientists, industry and the military. 4fi The $2 billion enterprise represented a remarkable fusion of skills in theoretical physics, engineering and industrial production.

The Manhattan Engineer District, set up in 1942 under the confident leadership of Brigadier General Leslie R. Groves, managed a huge cooperative research effort involving many of the country’s leading universities and industrial corporations. Although a military operation, Groves delegated considerable responsibility to civilian program chiefs: chemist Harold C. Urey led research into the gaseous diffusion separation process at Columbia University;

Ernest 0. Lawrence investigated electromagnetic separation and conducted plutonium studies at the University of

California, Berkeley; and Athur Holly Compton directed the

Metallurgical Laboratory at the University of Chicago with responsibility for weapon theory and chain recations. The task of bomb design and construction fell to the newly created special weapons laboratory at Los Alamos under the directorship of University of California theoretical physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer. Spurred on by the fear that Germany might be ahead in developing an atomic bomb, civilian scientists worked feverishly and endured the Army’s 50

pervasive security restrictions to build a deliverable

weapon as quickly as possible. They dramatically achieved

their goal on July 16, 1945, with the successful test of an

implosion plutonium device at Alamagordo, New Mexico. A few

weeks later, the United States dropped a uranium gun-type bomb on the Japanese city of Hiroshima, forever changing the nature of human warfare. 47

Not only did the nation’s scientists and engineers

assist the war effort in the laboratory, but they also

became increasingly involved in advisory positions in the

government and the military. Secretary of War Henry L.

Stimson appointed MIT electrical engineer Edward L. Bowles

as his personal consultant. In 1943, OSRD established the

Office of Field Service, under Karl Compton, which sent

civilian scientists into the field to advise on the tactical

use of new weapons and learn more about the military's

operational requirements. Bush, himself, became the

scientific adviser par excellence. As director of OSRD, he

enjoyed direct access to the' President and served as

Roosevelt’s de facto science adviser. In addition, in 1942, he became chairman of the Joint Committee on New Weapons and

Equipment (JNW), an advisory body to the Joint Chiefs of

Staff designed to keep the top military leadership appraised

of developments in the civilian laboratories. Finally, Bush and Conant played significant advisory roles in the atomic bomb project, first as members of the Military Policy 51

Committee, designed to function as Groves’ board of directors, and later as members of Secretary of War

Stimson’s Interim Committee to consider long-term problems of atomic energy. It was as a member of the latter group that Conant, himself, suggested that the most desirable target for the atomic bombing of Japan would be "a vital war plant employing a large number of workers and closely

10 surrounded by workers’ houses."

The wartime mobilization of science fostered a greater appreciation of the importance of science to the national welfare among military leaders, politicians, and members of the public, but not everyone approved of the way in which

OSRD and the military services operated. Following the tradition of best science elitism, OSRD and the military contracted out their research projects to those institutions which had the existing technical talent and facilities to perform the work most effectively. In practice, this meant that most of the government funds for research and development went to a handful of leading universities and large industrial corporations. OSRD, for example, spent almost 90 per cent of its funds for academic contractors at a mere eight universities, with MIT receiving the lion’s share. Not surprisingly, as early as 1942, some disgruntled colleges, research associations, and small businesses had begun to complain that their potential contributions to the war effort were being ignored by the elitist dollar-a-year 52

men in Washington. These dissenters found a forum for their

complaints in a series of hearings held by Senator Harley M.

Kilgore, a liberal Democrat from West Virginia who chaired a

special subcommittee of the Senate Committee on Military

Affairs. 49 Kilgore, assisted by his physicist staff member Herbert Schimmel, initially suggested creating a new,

central federal agency with responsibility for overall

coordination of the entire mobilization program for science

and technology. After running into opposition from OSRD,

various scientific organizations, the military, and vested

business interests, however, Kilgore moved beyond immediate

wartime mobilization problems and began to plan for the

postwar organization of science, with the tacit support of

Bush.

Toward the end of the war, Kilgore introduced a

legislative program for the peacetime organization of

science. He proposed the creation of a new, central

scientific agency, the National Science Foundation (NSF), to

support pure and applied research in "fields that are

predominantly in the public interest, notably national

defense, health and medical care, and the basic sciences."

The agency would also coordinate all federally-funded

research and development, and would promote scientific

training through grants and scholarships. To ensure that

the NSF promoted scientific research of value to the general welfare, Kilgore proposed that the agency be managed by a 53 single director, appointed by the president with the advice and consent of the Senate, and assisted by a presidentially appointed National Science Board (NSB) that included representatives of government, industry, labor, education, and the public at large. Finally, Kilgore’s liberal proclivities most clearly surfaced in his suggestions that any patents arising from federally funded research should belong to the government, that the social sciences should receive federal support, and that the NSF should distribute at least part of its funds on a geographical basis.^

Academy president Frank Jewett, the NRC veteran and guardian of the old laissez-faire tradition of government- science relations, adamantly opposed the creation of any central scientific agency in the federal government. He had already suggested that postwar military research should be transferred to a new Research Board for National Security within the National Academy. Now, he recited the familiar argument that federal support and coordination of research would lead to the political control of science, making scientists little more than "intellectual slaves" of the state. He also worried that federal financial assistance would undermine traditional private sector support from individual donors, businesses, and the foundations. Jewett’s solution to the problem of postwar funding for science was to revise the tax laws to provide incentives for private investments in research and 54 development.53

Bush, meanwhile, tried to find a middle way between

Jewett’s laissez-faire approach and the statist tendencies

of Kilgore's proposal. Unlike Jewett, Bush had already

reluctantly concluded that federal funding for research would be essential in the postwar period. In the fall of

1944, he attempted to seize the initiative in the debate by

engineering a request from President Roosevelt to undertake

a comprehensive examination of postwar problems in science.

Bush appointed four committees of prominent scientists and

educators, many of them with OSRD connections, to make

recommendations on various aspects of postwar research. In

the resulting report, Science -- The Endless Frontier,

completed in July, 1945, Bush synthesized the committees’

findings and outlined his own recommendations for postwar

government-science relations.^

The Bush report enumerated several reasons why federal

support of basic research and scientific training would be

necessary in the postwar period. Drawing on the work of the

committees, Bush explained that traditional sources of

support for basic research in the universities and medical

schools, such as endowment income and private donations, had

been steadily declining for several years. If this trend were allowed to continue, the reservoir of new ideas would

dry up, which in turn would have adverse effects on the public health and the creation of new industries. Moreover, 55

wartime mobilization had produced a deficit of scientific

and technical manpower, estimated at about 150,000

bachelor’s degrees, which would produce a shortfall of some

17,000 doctorates by 1955. The United States would

therefore face a shortage of crucial technical manpower at a time when both the public and private sectors were expected

to increase their demand for such people. In addition, the

war had clearly demonstrated the value of civilian research

for military purposes. Bush therefore concluded that the

federal government should step in to promote basic research

in nonprofit institutions, encourage scientific training by means of scholarships and fellowships, and establish a civilian program of military research. To that end, like

Kilgore, he recommended the creation of a new federal agency, the National Research Foundation, which would have separate divisions for medical research, the natural sciences, defense research, and scientific education.^

While Bush agreed with Kilgore on the necessity of federal support for basic scientific research and training in the postwar period, he disagreed on a matter of principle. Kilgore envisioned a national science policy primarily designed to promote socially useful research and responsive to national needs, but Bush wanted a national science policy funded by the government- and shaped by scientists themselves, in the tradition of best science elitism. As a result, Bush made no mention of the 56 geographic distribution of funds, arguing instead that research contracts should go to the best investigators, regardless of their location. Similarly, Bush believed that patent rights represented an important incentive for private researchers and he argued that patents arising from federally funded research should not necessarily become government property. Finally, Bush’s National Research

Foundation made no provision for the social sciences, which

fp he privately regarded as unscientific.

Under Bush’s plan, national science policy would be largely insulated from political control. He proposed that the National Research Foundation be run by a part-time board of civilians, appointed by the president, and "composed of persons of broad interest and experience, having an understanding of the peculiarities of scientific research ffl and scientific training." The board members would select a director for the foundation and would appoint members to the individual research divisions after consultation with the National Academy of Sciences. Bush also called for the establishment of a permanent Science Advisory Board, composed of "disinterested scientists," to advise the government on the policies and budgets of federal agencies engaged in research. In this way, Bush intended to ensure that national science policy remained the preserve of scientists themselves. In short, the Bush plan represented an expanded version of the program first outlined by his 57 ro friend and mentor, Karl Compton, a decade earlier.

By 1945, it was clear that the Bush and Kilgore

programs for a new partnership between government and

science would not suffer the same fate as Compton’s earlier

proposals. In the first set of hearings on the proposed National Science Foundation in October, 1945, conducted in

the aftermath of the atomic bombing of Japan, ninety-eight

of ninety-nine witnesses endorsed the creation of some sort

of federal agency to promote scientific research and

training, although they disagreed on its exact structure.

Only Frank Jewett continued to warn against the further

expansion of the federal government and its potential

dangers for scientific freedom.^

By the end of World War Two, then, a new consensus had

emerged on the need for an ongoing relationship between

science and the federal government, particularly in the area

of national security. In an age of atomic weaponry and

advancing rocket technology, military and political leaders now recognized that the United States needed a national

policy of scientific research, and that scientists had

important advisory roles to play. For their part, the wartime mobilization effort had convinced many scientists and university administrators of the benefits of federal

largesse. The war had also accelerated the politicization of scientists begun during the Great Depression.

Participants in the Manhattan project, in particular, had already begun to consider the ramifications of their work and to voice their opinions on political mechanisms for the domestic and international control of atomic energy.

Although the exact terms of the new partnership between government and science remained to be determined, by 1945, despite the efforts of Frank Jewett, the era of laissez- faire in government-science relations had come to an end. 59

1. For a discussion of "best science elitism," see Daniel J. Kevles, The Physicists: The History of a Scientific Community in Modern America 2d edition (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1987), passim.

2. Useful surveys of government-science relations include the classic A. Hunter Dupree, Science in the Federal Government: A History of Policies and Activities 2d edition (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press), which takes the story up to 1941; the journalisitc Daniel S. Greenberg, The Politics of Pure Science revised edition (New York: Plume Books, 1970); James L. Penick, Jr. et al., The Politics of American Science: 1939 to the Present revised edition (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1972); and Bruce L. R. Smith, American Science Policy Since World War Two (Washington, D.C.: Brookings Institution, 1990).

3. Greenberg, Politics of Pure Science. 22, 26-30, 51- 60; Smith, American Science Policy. 19-22.

4. For the "established church" analogy, see Greenberg, Politics of Pure Science, 3.

5. For the official history of the National Academy of Sciences, see Rexford C. Cochrane, The National Academy of Sciences: The First Hundred Years. 1863-1963 (Washington, D.C.: National Academy of Sciences, 1978). A useful, critical summary of its early advisory efforts can be found in Karl T. Compton, "Science Advisory Service to the Government," Scientific Monthly 42 (July 1936): 33-4.

6. Dupree, Science in the Federal Government, 309-11; Kevles, The Physicists, 109-16, and idem, "George Ellery Hale, the First World War, and the Advancement of Science in America," Isis 59 (Winter 1968): 427-37.

7. Dupree, Science in the Federal Government. 310-12; Kevles, The Physicists, 114-18; idem, "George Ellery Hale," 434-35.

8. Dupree, Science in the Federal Government, 313-19; Kevles, The Physicists, 118-34; Smith, American Science Policy. 29-30; Robert A. Millikan, The Autobiography of Robert A. Millikan (New York: 1950), 161-64.

9. The full text of Executive Order 2859 is in Cochrane, The National Academy of Sciences. 644-45.

10. Dupree, Science in the Federal Government. 326-27. 60

11. Dupree, Science in the Federal Government. 328-30; idem, "Central Scientific Organization in the United States Government," Minerva 1 (Summer 1963): 463.

12. The most complete account of the National Research Fund is Lance E. Davis and Daniel J. Kevles, "The National Research Fund: A Case Study in the Industrial Support of Academic Science," Minerva 12 (April 1974): 207-20. See also Herbert C. Hoover, "The Nation and Science," Science 65 (14 January 1927): 26-29; idem, Memoirs, vol. 1: The Cabinet and the Presidency. 1920-1933 (New York: Macmillan, 1952), 73-76; and Dupree, Science in the Federal Government. 340- 43.

13. Davis and Kevles, "The National Research Fund," 213-15; Kevles, The Physicists. 185-88.

14. Peter J. Kuznick, Beyond the Laboratory: Scientists as Political Activists in 1930s America (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1987), 25-32; Dupree, Science in the Federal Government. 344-46.

15. Henry A. Wallace, "The Social Advantages and Disadvantages of the Engineering-Scientific Approach to Civilization," Science 79 (5 January 1934): 1-5; Kuznick, Beyond the Laboratory. 15, 18-24.

16. Robert Kargon and Elizabeth Hodes, "Karl Compton, Isaiah Bowman, and the Politics of Science in the Great Depression," Isis 76 (September 1985): 304-308; Cochrane, The National Academy of Sciences. 320-25.

17. Kargon and Hodes, "Karl Compton," 305-306; Kevles, The Physicists. 253; George Harrison, "Karl Compton and American Physics," Physics Today 10 (November 1957): 19-22. For Compton’s own account of his accession to the MIT presidency and of the role played by Swope and Jewett, see his memorandum reprinted in James R. Killian, Jr., The Education of a College President: A Memoir (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1985), 421-26.

18. For the ideology of Bowman and Compton, see Kargon and Hodes, "Karl Compton," 308-11. For discussions of corporate liberalism, see Ellis W. Hawley, "The Discovery and Study of a ’Corporate Liberalism,’" Business History Review 52 (Autumn 1978): 309-30; Louis P. Galambos, "Technology, Political Economy, and Professionalization: Central Themes of the Organizational Synthesis," Business History Review 57 (Winter 1983): 471-93; and Thomas Ferguson, "From Normalcy to New Deal: Industrial Structure, Party Competition, and American Public Policy in the Great Depression," International Organization 38 (Winter 1984): 61

41-94. On the Swope Plan and the origins of the NIRA, see Hawley, The New Deal and the Problem of Monopoly (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1966), 19-52; and Kim McQuaid, "Corporate Liberalism in the American Business Community," Business History Review 52 (Autumn 1978): 342- 68, especially 352-56.

19. The fullest treatments of the Science Advisory Board are Lewis E. Auerbach, "Scientists in the New Deal: A Pre-War Episode in the Relations Between Science and Government in the United States," Minerva 3 (Summer 1965): 457-82; and Carroll W. Pursell, Jr., "The Anatomy of a Failure: The Science Advisory Board, 1933-1935," Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society 109 (December 1965): 342-51. See also Dupree, Science in the Federal Government, 350-58; Kevles, The Physicists, 254-66; and Kargon and Hodes, "Karl Compton," 310-11.

20. Report of the Science Advisory Board: July 31. 1933 to September 1. 1934 (Washington, D.C.: no publisher, 1934), 7.

21. Auerbach, "Scientists in the New Deal," 461-62; Pursell, "Anatomy of a Failure," 344-45, 347-49; Report of the Science Advisory Board. 8.

22. Bowman to Frank Lillie, October 21, 1935, cited in Kargon and Hodes, "Karl Compton," 310.

23. Report of the Science Advisory Board, 13.

24. Report of the Science Advisory Board, 14-16; Karl T. Compton, "Report of the Science Advisory Board," Science 81 (4 January 1935): 15; Auerbach, "Scientists in the New Deal," 463-64.

25. Report of the Science Advisory Board, 269-71.

26. Auerbach, "Scientists in the New Deal," 468-69; Pursell, "Anatomy of a Failure," 346; Dupree, Science in the Federal Government, 353-54.

27. Karl T. Compton, "Physics in National Planning," Review of Scientific Instruments 5 (July 1934): 235-36.

28. Ibid., 236; idem, "Science Still Holds a Great Promise: An Answer to Those Who Contend that Ills of Today Can Be Blamed on Technology," New York Times Magazine. December 16, 1934, 6-7, 17; and idem, "Science Advisory Service to the Government," Scientific Monthly 42 (July 1936): 30-39, especially 32-33. 62

29. Compton, "Science Still Holds a Great Promise," 17; Second Report of the Science Advisory Board: September 1. 1934 to August 31, 1935 (Washington, D.C.: no publisher, 1935), 81-84; Auerbach, "Scientists in the New Deal," 472- 74 .

30. Jewett to Compton, December 6, 1934, cited in Kargon and Hodes, "Karl Compton," 316; Kuznick, Beyond the Laboratory, 35; Auerbach, "Scientists in the New Deal," 474; H. B. Ward, ed., "The Pittsburgh Meetings of the American Association for the Advancement of Science," Science 81 (1 February 1935): 105, 110-11.

31. Dupree, Science in the Federal Government. 356-58; Kevles, The Physicists, 254-58; Cochrane, The National Academy of Sciences, 363-66; Auerbach, "Scientists in the New Deal," 475-77; Pursell, "Anatomy of a Failure," 348-50.

32. Dupree, Science in the Federal Government. 358-61; Auerbach, "Scientists in the New Deal," 478-80; Pursell, "Anatomy of a Failure," 350-51; Greenberg, Politics of Pure Science, 63-65; National Resources Committee, Research — A National Resource 2 volumes (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1938-40).

33. The politicization of American scientists in the 1930s is fully treated in Kuznick, Beyond the Laboratory, especially chapters 7 and 8. For scientific activism in Great Britain, see William McGucken, Scientists. Society, and State: The Social Relations of Science Movement in Great Britain. 1931-1947 (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1984 ) .

34. Vannevar Bush, Modern Arms and Free Men (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1949), 17-26; Greenberg, Politics of Pure Science. 65; Kevles, The Physicists, 289-92.

35. Greenberg, Politics of Pure Science. 68-71; Kevles, The Physicists. 287-88; Kuznick, Beyond the Laboratory. 243-48, 260-62.

36. Current Biography. 1947 (New York: H. W. Wilson, 1947), 80-82; Greenberg, Politics of Pure Science, 75-76; Kevles, The Physicists, 293-96; Carroll W. Pursell, Jr., "Science Agencies in World War Two: The OSRD and its Challengers," in Nathan S. Reingold, ed., The Sciences in the American Context: New Perspectives (Washington, D.C.: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1979), 359-60.

37. Pursell, "Science Agencies in World War Two," 360; Penick, et al., Politics of American Science. 10-11; Bush, Pieces of the Action (London: Cassell, 1970), 30-33; James 63

B. Conant, My Several Lives: Memoirs of a Social Inventor (New York: Harper and Row, 1970), 234-35.

38. Nathan S. Reingold, "Vannevar Bush's New Deal for Research: or the Triumph of the Old Order," Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 17 (1987): 301-11; James Phinney Baxter 3d, Scientists Against Time (Boston, MA: Little, Brown, 1946), 13-15; Irvin Stewart, Organizing Scientific Research for War: The Administrative History of the Office of Scientific Research and Development (Boston, MA: Little, Brown, 1948), 5-6; Bush, Pieces of the Action, 32-33, 38; Conant, My Several Lives, 234-36.

39. Bush, Pieces of the Action. 35-36; Conant, My Several Lives, 235; Kevles, The Physicists, 297; Pursell, "Science Agencies in World War Two," 360-61.

40. For the text of Roosevelt's executive order, see Baxter, Scientists Against Time, 451.

41. Bush, Pieces of the Action. 37-38, 40; Kevles, The Physicists, 297-98; Pursell, "Science Agencies in World War Two," 362-63; Reingold, "Bush’s New Deal for Research," 307- 11; Stewart, Organizing Scientific Research for War. 9-13.

42. Bush, Pieces of the Action. 42-43; Pursell, "Science Agencies in World War Two," 363; Stewart, Organizing Scientific Research for War, 35.

43. The executive order is in Baxter, Scientists Against Time. 452-55. See also Bush, Pieces of the Action. 45-48; Conant, My Several Lives. 272-73; and Kevles, The Physicists, 299-300.

44. Bush, Pieces of the Action. 53-56, 281; Kevles, The Physicists, 300-301; Stewart, Organizing Scientific Research for War. 28.

45. Baxter, Scientists Against Time, 137-57; Kevles, The Physicists, 305-08, 317-19; Killian, Education of a College President, 22—27; Isidor I. Rabi, Science: The Center of Culture (Cleveland, OH: World Publishing Company, 1970), 66-70; John S. Rigden, Rabi: Scientist and Citizen (New York: Basic Books, 1987), 131-45.

46. Useful histories of the atomic bomb project include Richard G. Hewlett and Oscar E. Anderson, Jr., The New World, 1939-1946: A History of the United States Atomic Energy Commission, vol. 1 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1962), the AEC’s official history; Stephane Groueff, Manhattan Project: The Untold Story of the Making of the Atomic Bomb (Boston, MA: Little, Brown, 64

1967); Lansing Lamont, Day of Trinity (New York: Atheneura, 1985); and Richard Rhodes, The Making of the Atomic Bomb (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1986). For accounts by some of the leading participants, see Arthur Holly Compton, Atomic Quest: A Personal Narrative (New York: Oxford University Press, 1956); Leslie R. Groves, Now It Can Be Told (New York: Harper and Row, 1962); Conant, My Several Lives; and Spencer R. Weart and Gertrud Weiss Szilard, eds., Leo Szilard: His Version of the Facts (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1979). See also Kevles, The Physicists. 324-33. 47. The Los Alamos weapons laboratory produced two types of atomic bomb. The relatively simple uranium bomb used a gun mechanism to fire one subcritical mass of fissionable uranium-235 into another, thereby achieving a critical mass and releasing a vast amount of energy. The gun method proved unfeasible for the plutonium bomb because plutonium emitted more neutrons spontaneously than did U- 235, meaning that predetonation of the bomb assembly might occur before much energy could be released. The solution, called implosion, was to surround a subcritical mass of plutonium with conventional explosives which, when fired, would produce a symmetrical shock wave that would compress the plutonium into a critical mass and allow a powerful chain reaction to develop. See Conant, My Several Lives. 292-93; and Kevles, The Physicists. 331.

48. For the Conant quotation, see Notes of the Interim Committee Meeting, May 31, 1945, reprinted in Martin J. Sherwin, A World Destroyed: The Atomic Bomb and the Grand Alliance (New York: Vintage Books, 1977), 295-304. See also Bush, Pieces of the Action, 51-52, 61-62; Conant, My Several Lives, 286-88, 300-301; Baxter, Scientists Against Time, 404-17; Stewart, Organizing Scientific Research for War. 49; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 81-83, 344-46.

49. Pursell, "Science Agencies in World War Two," 373- 74, and idem, The Military-Industrial Complex (New York: Harper and Row, 1972), 165-69; Baxter, Scientists Against Time. 456; Penick, et al., Politics of American Science, 82- 95; Daniel J. Kevles, "The National Science Foundation and the Debate over Postwar Research Policy, 1942-1945: A Political Interpretation of Science — The Endless Frontier," Isis 68 (March 1977): 5-26, especially 5-7; and Carl M. Rowan, "Politics and Pure Research: The Origins of the National Science Foundation, 1942-1954," (Ph.D. dissertation, Miami University, 1985), 29-39.

50. For Kilgore's early proposals and unfavorable reactions, see U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on Technological Mobilization of the Committee on Military Affairs, Technological Mobilization. Hearings, 77th Cong., 65 2d sess. , 1942, 1-4, 537; and U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on Scientific and Technical Mobilization of the Committee on Military Affairs, Scientific and Technical Mobilization. Hearings. 78th Cong., 1st sess., 1943, 1-7, 240-41, 242-45, 259-63, 271, 309-11. See also Bush, "The Kilgore Bill," Science 98 (31 December 1943): 571-77.

51. U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on War Mobilization of the Committee on Military Affairs, The Government's Wartime Research and Development. 1940-44, Part II: Findings and Recommendations. Senate doc. 92, 79th Cong., 1st sess., 1945, 26-29; Kevles, "Debate over Postwar Research," 15-16.

52. See Kevles, "Scientists, the Military, and the Control of Postwar Defense Research: The Case of the Research Board for National Security, 1944-46," Technology and Culture 16 (January 1975): 20-47, especially 25-26.

53. For Jewett’s opinions, see especially U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on War Mobilization of the Committee on Military Affairs, Hearings on Science Legislation, 79th Cong., 1st sess., 1945, 427-47, 1116-18 [hereafter Hearings on Science Legislation); and Penick, et al., Politics of American Science. 132-34.

54. Vannevar Bush, Science — The Endless Frontier: A Report to the President by Vannevar Bush. Director. OSRD. July. 1945 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1945). The origins of the Bush report are discussed in Kevles, "Debate over Postwar Research Policy," 5, 16-22; and J. Merton England, A Patron for Pure Science: The National Science Foundation’s Formative Years. 1945-57 (Washington, D.C.: National Science Foundation, 1982), 9-10. The latter attributes the origins of the report to the administration’s concern to prevent a return to prewar economic conditions, rather than to Bush’s concern for postwar support of science.

55. Bush, Science — The Endless Frontier. 1-4, 8-11, 18-19.

56. Ibid., 16, 31-32; Kevles, "Debate over Postwar Research," 16, 18-21.

57. Bush, Science — The Endless Frontier. 4.

58. Ibid., 15, 28-29.

59. Hearings on Science Legislation, passim. CHAPTER II

THE POSTWAR STRUCTURE OF GOVERNMENT-SCIENCE RELATIONS

The experience of World War Two finally ended the

laissez-faire tradition in government-science relations.

Politicians, military leaders, and scientists all came to

recognize that science was now an instrument of national

power and that new institutional arrangements would be

required to cement the wartime partnership between science and the state. As director of the Office of Scientific

Research and Development, a member of Secretary of War Henry

L. Stimson’s Interim Committee on atomic energy, and de

facto science adviser to the president, Vannevar Bush played a central role in shaping the postwar structure of government-science relations. He advocated federal support for basic scientific research and education through an agency largely controlled by scientists themselves; the upgrading of science and technology within the armed services; greater "scientific interlinkage" between the services in order to avoid unnecessary duplication of facilities and effort; and the integration of civilian scientists into long-range national security planning, particularly with regard to the evolution and use of new

66 67 weapons and technology. In all of these areas, Bush tried to secure a new public-private partnership that would guarantee civilian scientists a relatively autonomous role in policymaking.*

For several years after the war, Bush and his allies struggled to translate his ideas into practice, but with mixed results. On the issue of domestic control of atomic energy, Bush initially backed a War Department plan that would have insulated the Atomic Energy Commission from political control, but might also have ensured military domination. Working level scientists in the Manhattan

Engineering District, who suspected that Bush had been co­ opted by the military, rebelled at the prospect of continuing military restrictions. They formed a powerful lobby of "atomic scientists" to promote civilian control, and eventually secured compromise legislation. Bush similarly encountered opposition to his National Research

Foundation from political liberals and disgruntled scientists who objected to its elitist features. After a five-year struggle, the new agency gained approval, but by that time its original scope had been narrowed considerably.

Moreover, the delay in creating the National Science

Foundation undermined Bush’s efforts to secure an autonomous role for civilian scientists in military research and planning. The armed services expanded their own research empires, cultivated direct ties with private researchers, 68 jealously defended their prerogatives against outside intrusion, and resisted Bush’s efforts to rationalize research and development projects that might impinge on their respective missions. Finally, a combination of personal and political factors eroded Bush’s influence in the White House, and he eventually left government service in 1948.

With Bush’s departure, scientists lost their direct channel to the president, frustrating his efforts to secure greater integration of civilian scientists into national security planning. Indeed, President Truman chose not to listen to independent scientific advice. In 1949, he disregarded the technical and ethical objections to the development of the hydrogen bomb raised by the AEC’s General

Advisory Committee. Later, during the Korean War, he authorized the creation of the Science Advisory Committee to the Office of Defense Mobilization, charged with providing technical advice to the president on national security issues, but then proceeded to ignore the new group.

Throughout the remainder of his term, in fact, Truman never consulted his official science advisers. By 1952, science had been effectively mobilized for the Cold War, but largely on terms dictated by the president and the military rather than scientists themselves.

*** 69

The atomic bombing of Japan in August, 1945,

dramatically focused the nation's attention on the most

urgent matter of government-science relations — the postwar

control of atomic energy. In the twelve months following

the war, a heated debate over the domestic control of atomic energy easily overshadowed the more mundane discourse

regarding the nature and structure of the proposed National

Science Foundation. Both issues, in fact, had the effect of

furthering the politicization of scientists that had been

underway since the 1930s, but the question of government

organization for the control of atomic energy led to the

emergence of a coherent and effective lobby of "atomic

scientists." When the War Department tried to push through

legislation which provided for the continuation of wartime

security restrictions and guaranteed a prominent military

role in the new Atomic Energy Commission, the atomic scientists sprang into action to champion the cause of academic freedom and civilian control. Bush, who initially

favored swift passage of the War Department bill in order to

lay the groundwork for an international control agreement, found himself on the wrong side of the issue and actually played little role in the ensuing battle. The atomic scientists ultimately secured civilian control in the Atomic

Energy Act of 1946, but the compromise legislation also provided for significant military participation in domestic atomic energy policy. 70

The postwar atomic scientists’ movement had its origins

in the wartime efforts of Manhattan project workers to

promote international control of atomic energy. Two

prominent refugee physicists played a leading role in this

area. Niels Bohr, who escaped from Nazi-occupied Denmark in 1943 and served as a roving consultant to the Anglo-American

atomic enterprise, fostered discussion among his younger

colleagues on the postwar implications of atomic energy.

Eventually, he recommended to British Prime Minister Winston

Churchill and President Franklin D. Roosevelt that the

Soviet Union be informed of the Manhattan project prior to

any military use of the new weapon. This, he believed, might be a first step toward building the mutual confidence

necessary for the postwar international control of atomic energy, which would be the only alternative to an atomic

arms race. In 1944, however, Bohr learned that Churchill, concerned about Britain’s postwar international position, was unalterably opposed to sharing atomic information with

Josef Stalin, and President Roosevelt concurred in preserving the exclusive Anglo-American atomic partnership 2 for the time being.

Leo Szilard, the Hungarian refugee physicist who had drafted Albert Einstein’s famous 1939 letter to President

Roosevelt warning of the potential for an atomic bomb, played an even more influential role in the emerging atomic scientists' movement. As work on the bomb neared completion and as Germany’s defeat seemed imminent, Szilard initiated debate among scientists at the Metallurgical Laboratory of the University of Chicago over the necessity and desirability of using the weapon against Japan. Chicago, in fact, became the focal point for the atomic scientists’ movement, largely because the Met Lab completed most of its wartime work well before the other sites. Szilard worried that the United States seemed to be drifting inexorably toward the combat use of the bomb without considering its longer term effects on international affairs, especially the postwar relationship between the United States and the

Soviet Union. Fearing that the military and scientific leaders of the Manhattan project, including Bush and James

B. Conant, had a vested interest in using the bomb against

Japan and would not listen to alternative arguments, Szilard attempted a direct approach to the president. He arranged a meeting with Eleanor Roosevelt and prepared a memorandum for the president outlining possible methods for the international control of atomic energy, including supervising the movement of essential raw materials and opening atomic power facilities to international inspection.

Szilard pointed out that in the event of a postwar atomic arms race, Russia could be expected to accumulate sufficient atomic bombs within six years to be able to destroy most

American cities. Unfortunately for Szilard, Roosevelt died several days before the scheduled appointment. 72

Undeterred, Szilard attempted a similar direct approach

to President Harry S. Truman, only to endure further

frustration. The White House referred Szilard to Secretary of State-designate James F. Byrnes, who gave the scientist and his companions, chemist Harold C. Urey and University of Chicago president Robert M. Hutchins, a patient but unsympathetic hearing. When Szilard suggested that the

United States refrain from either testing or using the bomb on the grounds that this would reveal its existence to the

Soviet Union, Byrnes responded that failing to test the device after investing over $2 billion might lead people to conclude that the Manhattan project had failed and that further funding for atomic energy research should be abandoned. Byrnes also discounted Szilard's warning about a postwar atomic arms race with the Soviet Union, reiterating

General Leslie R. Groves' assertion that the Soviet Union lacked high-grade uranium ore deposits necessary for a weapons development program. Finally, Byrnes argued that the combat use of the atomic bomb against Japan might make

Russia "more manageable" in postwar negotiations over

Eastern Europe. Thoroughly depressed over Byrnes' attitude,

Szilard and his colleagues returned to Chicago.^

Met Lab director Arthur Holly Compton, recognizing the sense of frustration and declining morale among his staff, opened a channel for the Chicago group to express its views to the top policymakers in Washington. As a member of the 73

Scientific Advisory Panel to the Interim Committee, which

also included J. Robert Oppenheimer, Enrico Fermi, and

Ernest 0. Lawrence, Compton had direct access to Secretary

of War Stimson. He therefore authorized the creation of six

committees at the Met Lab to study and report on various

implications of the development of atomic energy, with the

understanding that he would present any recommendations to

the next meeting of the panel. The distinguished German

Nobel Prize-winning physicist, James Franck, chaired the

committee on social and political implications. Indeed,

Compton had only persuaded Franck to work on the bomb

project in 1942 on condition that he be allowed to express his views on its use to top policymakers when the time came.®

The Franck Report, completed on June 11, 1945, is sometimes regarded as the founding statement of the atomic

scientists’ movement. Drafted largely by Russian-born and

German-educated Eugene Rabinowitch, the document synthesized many of the ideas that had been circulating at Chicago. The report began with the assumption that scientists could no

longer "disclaim direct responsibility for the use to which mankind ... put their disinterested discoveries" because nuclear power was fraught with "infinitely greater dangers than were all the inventions of the past." It went on to examine various ways in which the United States might achieve security in the postwar nuclear age. The committee 74 argued that security could not be found in secrecy, because

the basic scientific facts regarding atomic energy were

already widely known. Similarly, the Western powers could

not rely on a monopoly of essential raw materials because

the Soviet Union had access to known uranium ore deposits in Czechoslovakia. Finally, building an ever larger stockpile

of atomic bombs would provide limited security because the

American nuclear weapons monopoly could only be expected to

last for three to four years. Moreover, as Szilard had

noted earlier, the concentration of the American population

and industrial capacity in relatively few cities made the

United States peculiarly vulnerable to a surprise atomic attack. The only way to achieve real security, therefore,

was to seek international control of atomic energy.

Proceeding from the premise that international control

should be the goal of American policy, the Franck Report went on to argue that the atomic bomb should not be used against Japan without warning. If the United States were to be the first to release this means of "indiscriminate destruction" upon the world, "she would sacrifice public support..., precipitate the race for armaments, and prejudice the possibility of reaching an international

9 agreement on the future control of such weapons."

Instead, the committee recommended a demonstration of the bomb before representatives of all the United Nations in some uninhabited area. Such an act would foster the mutual 75 trust necessary to achieve an international control agreement, and would not preclude future military use against Japan if she still refused to surrender.

In addition to these pragmatic arguments against using the atomic bomb, Szilard believed that scientists should also state their moral objections to its use. To that end, he circulated a petition among his colleagues in July, urging the president not to use the new weapon for fear of opening the door to "an era of devastation on an unimaginable scale." By this time, with the first test of the plutonium implosion bomb only days away, Szilard conceded that his petition would have little effect on policy, but in a covering letter to a friend at Los Alamos he argued that "from a point of view of the standing of the scientists in the eyes of the general public one or two years from now it is a good thing that a minority of scientists should have gone on record in favor of giving greater weight to moral arguments." Szilard eventually obtained over sixty signatures at Chicago, but Oppenheimer refused to circulate the petition at Los Alamos. As Szilard had suspected, by the time his petition reached Stimson early in August, President Truman had already decided to use the bomb against Japan. In fact, the White House did not receive the petition until August 17, several days after the attacks on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Significantly, the ideas and assumptions expressed in 76

the Franck Report and the Szilard petition did not enjoy

unanimous support from Manhattan project scientists and

engineers, and especially from the members of the Interim

Committee’s Scientific Advisory Panel. Whereas the Franck

committee and Szilard assumed that the atomic scientists had a unique responsibility to advise political leaders on

matters pertaining to atomic energy, the Scientific Advisory

Panel took a more restrained view of its responsibilities

reminiscent of prewar attitudes among scientists. They

claimed to have "no proprietary rights" regarding the use of

atomic energy, and laid "no claim to special competence in

solving the political, social, and military problems ...

presented by the advent of atomic power.Szilard’s

fellow Hungarian refugee physicist, Edward Teller, echoed

these sentiments, arguing that: "The accident that we

worked out this dreadful thing should not give us the

responsibility of having a voice in how it is to be

used."^

Most importantly, the Scientific Advisory Panel and many other project scientists supported military use of the

atomic bomb against Japan. Oppenheimer and his colleagues briefly examined the feasibility of a peaceful demonstration

of the bomb’s power, but they concluded that there was "no

technical demonstration likely to bring an end to the war."

They therefore reported to the Interim Committee that they 1 0 saw "no acceptable alternative to direct military use." 77

The panel members shared the belief of many other scientists in the Manhattan project that the bomb would actually save lives in the long run by precipitating a speedy conclusion to the war and avoiding the necessity of a costly Allied invasion of the Japanese home islands. Furthermore, unlike the Franck committee, the panel argued that military use of the bomb would have a beneficial impact on postwar efforts to achieve international control because it would emphatically demonstrate the power of atomic weaponry and convince other nations of the futility of war. The panel did agree, however, that the United States should reveal the extent of its atomic energy program to its allies and solicit their opinions on postwar cooperation before any combat use of the bomb. The Interim Committee endorsed this latter proposal for international consultation, but

President Truman chose not to act upon the recommendation.

At the Potsdam Conference, he merely informed Stalin that the United States had developed a weapon of unusual power.^

In the weeks following the end of hostilities, political activity at the various Manhattan project sites intensified as scientists and engineers waited anxiously for a presidential statement on atomic energy policy. Younger workers, in particular, played an active role in establishing a variety of local organizations, including the

Association of Los Alamos Scientists, the Association of Oak 78

Ridge Scientists, the Oak Ridge Engineers and Scientists,

and the Atomic Scientists of Chicago. While the several

hundred members of these groups sometimes focused on

parochial concerns, like future employment opportunities and

the Army’s continuing security restrictions in peacetime, they also addressed broader issues. All agreed that some

form of international control of atomic energy would be

vital in the postwar period in order to avoid a destructive

arms race, and that atomic scientists had a special

obligation both to educate public opinion about the facts of

the nuclear age and to advise government officials as to

suitable policies. Many members of these organizations also

shared a lingering suspicion that the wartime scientific

administrators, men like Bush, Conant, and the members of

the Scientific Advisory Panel, had been co-opted by the

military establishment and had failed to communicate the

concerns of working scientists to top policymakers.^

When President Truman delivered his long-awaited message to Congress on atomic energy in October, 1945, he delighted the atomic scientists by calling for international agreements aimed at "the renunciation of the use and development of the atomic bomb," and channeling atomic energy research "toward peaceful and humanitarian ends."

They similarly applauded his support for the early creation of an Atomic Energy Commission, charged with controlling the development of atomic energy for peace or war. Truman 79

wanted the new agency to "interfere as little as possible

with private research and private enterprise," nevertheless

it should have sweeping powers. It should control all

sources of atomic energy and all plants, materials, and production related to atomic energy. In addition, the

commission should conduct "all necessary research, experimentation, and operations for the further development of atomic energy for military, industrial, scientific or medical purposes." Finally, the new agency should establish

its own security regulations concerning the handling of

information, material, and equipment under its jurisdiction.

Having stated the broad outlines of his policy, Truman left

Congress to work out the exact details. 15

The atomic scientists' initial satisfaction with

Truman’s message quickly dissipated when Representative

Andrew J. May of Kentucky and Senator Edwin C. Johnson of

Colorado, the Democratic chairmen of the two military affairs committees, introduced atomic energy legislation.

The May-Johnson Bill, drafted in the War Department by two

Army lawyers, Kenneth C. Royall and William L. Marbury, provided for a powerful Atomic Energy Commission with virtually complete authority over all atomic energy research and development. The bill actually stemmed from proposals drafted by Bush in 1944, and reflected his concern to insulate the commission from political control in a similar manner to his proposed National Research Foundation. It 80 called for a presidentially-appointed nine-member, part-time commission, consisting of five civilians and two representatives from each military service. The bill provided that the commissioners would serve indefinitely and that they could only be removed for certain specified reasons. Moreover, the commissioners, not the president, would appoint an administrator and deputy administrator to direct the commission’s full-time staff, and the commissioners would also select the members of four advisory boards on military applications, industrial uses, research, and medicine. The May-Johnson bill gave the commission custody of all raw materials, plants, facilities, equipment, technical information, and patents related to the production of atomic energy. It also empowered the commission to conduct atomic research, either in commission facilities or under contract, and to control all such research in other government agencies. Military research, however, would remain in the hands of the armed forces. IB

The atomic scientists, led by Szilard and Edward U.

Condon, the liberal physicist who had recently been appointed director of the National Bureau of Standards, objected to several key provisions of the May-Johnson bill.

Many Manhattan project workers had chafed at the Army’s wartime security restrictions on research, and Condon himself had resigned as associate director of Los Alamos in protest over such policies, but the May-Johnson Bill seemed 81

to perpetuate military control of atomic energy and a rigid

security system. Four members of the armed forces would

serve on the commission, and the full-time positions of

administrator and deputy administrator could similarly be

occupied by military men. Moreover, violations of the commission’s security regulations would carry a $100,000

fine and up to ten years in jail, and willfully transmitting

information detrimental to the interests of the United

States would incur even heavier penalties. Such measures

seemed to jeopardize the free flow of information and ideas that most scientists considered essential for the advancement of knowledge. Finally, the general tone of the bill, with its emphasis on military applications and security restrictions, convinced many scientists that the legislation would have an adverse effect on efforts to achieve their primary goal -- international control of atomic energy. 17

The scientists' organizations particularly resented the fact that the War Department suggested that the May-Johnson bill had the support of the scientific community. Stimson’s successor as Secretary of War, Robert P. Patterson, told the

House Military Affairs Committee, somewhat inaccurately, that the bill was "prepared by the Interim Committee appointed by the Secretary of War with the approval of the

President," and represented the consensus of the Committee, interested government departments, the scientists and 82

representatives of industries associated with the atomic

10 energy program. Certainly, in 1944, Bush had suggested

creating a part-time commission and allowing military

membership, but the War Department's bill had gone much

farther in establishing an autonomous agency than even Bush had envisioned. Moreover, after reading a draft of the bill

in August, 1945, Bush had recommended a further review. He objected to the elimination of his earlier suggestion that

five scientists and engineers be appointed to the commission on the basis of nominations by the National Academy of

Sciences, and he now felt that only civilians should serve on the commission. He also argued that fundamental scientific research on atomic energy should fall under the auspices of his National Research Foundation, and should be conducted primarily in private institutions. In the press of events surrounding demobilization and reconversion, however, no further review ever occurred. 19

Despite Bush’s private objections, the wartime scientific leadership publicly endorsed the May-Johnson bill. In the brief one-day hearings before the House

Military Affairs Committee on October 9, Bush and Conant, testifying on behalf of the bill, downplayed the danger of military domination of atomic energy and emphasized the need for strict regulation and controls to protect the public. 20

Two days later, in an unsuccessful attempt to rally rank- and-file scientists behind the bill, Oppenheimer, Enrico 83

Fermi, and Ernest 0. Lawrence issued a public letter to

Patterson strongly endorsing the legislation and asserting

that it represented "the fruits of well-informed and

experienced consideration." 21 In fact, as Oppenheimer soon

admitted, he had not been consulted on the legislation and had not even read the bill carefully. Apparently, he and

Bush strongly supported the May-Johnson bill primarily

because they believed that swift passage of domestic

legislation would lay the essential groundwork for achieving

international control of atomic energy. Unlike many of the

scientists at the working level, the wartime administrators of science had established an effective working relationship with the military and did not have the same fears about military domination of research. 22

These public endorsements widened the rift that had developed between the wartime scientific elite and rank-and-

file scientists that had first emerged over use of the atomic bomb, but they also galvanized the disparate

scientists’ groups into action. Many Manhattan project veterans shared the sentiments of Met Lab physicist Herbert

Anderson, who wrote: "I must confess that my confidence in our leaders Oppenheimer, Lawrence, Compton, and Fermi ... is shaken." 23 As a result, the atomic scientists, themselves, seized the offensive against the May-Johnson bill. At the end of October, the various site organizations established the Federation of Atomic Scientists (FAtS) and opened an office in Washington to lobby Congress and members of the

Truman administration. Two weeks later, the FAtS joined

with other scientific associations to establish the

Federation of American Scientists (FAS), dedicated to "an

effective and workable system of world control [of atomic energy] based on full cooperation among nations" and to promoting "those public policies which will secure the benefits of science to the general welfare." On the same day, the atomic scientists also united with other interested citizens’ groups, including the National Education

Association, the Federal Council of Churches, and the

Congress of Industrial Organizations, to form the National

Committee on Atomic Information (NCAI), designed to serve as a clearinghouse for atomic information.

With the help of Szilard and Condon, the scientists’ lobby found two important allies in the Truman administration, James R. Newman and Don K. Price. Newman, a liberal lawyer with considerable training in science and mathematics, served as an assistant to John Snyder in the

Office of War Mobilization and Reconversion (OWMR), which had been delegated responsibility for atomic energy legislation. Newman disliked the May-Johnson bill's emphasis on military over civilian applications of atomic energy, and felt that it imposed unwarranted restrictions on research. As a supporter of Senator Kilgore’s approach to science legislation, he also wanted the commission and its 85 administrator to be more responsive to the executive branch.

Price, a specialist on public administration in the Bureau of the Budget, similarly worried about making the commissioners accountable to the president. He argued that the proposed nine-year terms for the commissioners and the limits on the president’s powers of removal severely circumscribed executive authority. Together, Newman and

Price gradually persuaded Truman to distance himself from the May-Johnson bill.^

The scientists also cultivated congressional support, particularly Brien McMahon, the freshman Democratic Senator from Connecticut. McMahon had already secured the chairmanship of a Senate special committee to study atomic energy, and he seemed determined to use the issue to establish a national reputation. McMahon soon revealed his sympathy with the scientists’ cause by appointing Newman as the committee’s special counsel and Condon as its scientific adviser. For several weeks, Condon then conducted a seminar in atomic energy for the committee members to appraise them of essential technical information. During this process,

General Groves refused to release certain classified information on the atomic bomb requested by the committee, and conveniently provided MacMahon and the scientists with the issue that they had been looking for to rally public opinion against the May-Johnson bill. In order to prevent a military state and guarantee civilian supremacy, they 86 argued, the atomic energy commission should specifically exclude all military men. At the end of December, McMahon introduced his own atomic energy bill. 26

The McMahon bill, drafted by Newman and his associate,

Byron S. Miller, in consultation with the Chicago scientists, addressed most of the scientists’ concerns regarding international control and freedom of research.

The bill emphasized the primacy of international control by specifically prohibiting any weapons research and development in violation of international agreements.

Unlike the May-Johnson measure, the MacMahon bill also stressed the commission’s obligation to promote research in atomic energy, either in its own facilities or under contract with private institutions. In addition, the bill attempted to liberalize the flow of information by distinguishing between "basic scientific" data, which would remain in the public domain, and "related technical" information, which would be released in a manner consistent with national security. Finally, the commission would monopolize the production, ownership, and use of all fissionable materials, although private companies could engage in utilization activities under commission license.

The commission would hold all patents relating to the production of fissionable materials and weapons, while private patents relating to devices or processes using atomic energy would be subject to compulsory licensing. In 87

other words, the commission would prevent any private

monopoly in the atomic energy field. 27

The new bill similarly reflected the concerns of

McMahon, Newman, and Price with securing the principles of

civilian supremacy and presidential control. The legislation provided for an exclusively civilian atomic

energy commission consisting of five full-time members

appointed by the president with the advice and consent of

the Senate and serving at the president’s pleasure. A general manager, also appointed by the president, would

execute commission policy and direct the full-time staff.

Significantly, the commission would produce atomic weapons,

retain custody of the atomic stockpile, and conduct research and development in the military applications of atomic power. On February 1, 1946, President Truman, in a letter drafted by Newman, publicly endorsed the McMahon bill’s philosophy of civilian control and again urged the speedy completion of atomic energy legislation. 28

Although the Senate Special Committee accepted the

McMahon Bill as the basis for legislation, conservatives of both parties forced several significant amendments. 29

Every member of the committee except McMahon, for example, agreed with the military witnesses who testified that civilian supremacy should not be interpreted to mean military exclusion from the commission, especially with regard to military research and development. Senator 88

Vandenberg sponsored an amendment providing for a military

applications board with the power to review the commission’s

activities in the military area and appeal its decisions to

the president. News of the Vandenberg amendment initiated

another propaganda blitz by the scientists’ associations on behalf of "civilian control." Army Chief of Staff Dwight D.

Eisenhower and Chief of Naval Operations Chester W. Nimitz,

meanwhile, staked out a more moderate position. They both

endorsed the principle of civilian control, accepted an

exclusively civilian commission, and downplayed the

importance of military review of commission decisions.

Instead, they simply urged that reasonable liaison be

established between the commission and the armed services.

As a result, McMahon accepted a compromise arrangement whereby a Military Liaison Committee, appointed by the

service secretaries, would assume responsibility for military applications of atomic energy, and had the right of appeal to the service secretaries. This satisfied McMahon and the scientists because it subordinated the committee to

the commission, but it also pleased conservatives and military men because it guaranteed military participation in atomic energy affairs. 30

Meanwhile, public revelations about a Soviet spy ring

in Canada and the disclosure that British physicist Alan

Nunn May had been arrested on espionage charges forced

McMahon to accept revisions to the section of his bill 89 previously entitled "Dissemination of Information."

Ominously, conservatives on the committee renamed it

"Control of Information." The new language eliminated the earlier distinction between "basic scientific" information and "related technical" information, and gave the commission control of "restricted data," defined as information concerning the manufacture or use of atomic weapons, the production of fissionable material, or the use of fissionable material in the production of power. The commission would determine what information was restricted, and the new section stipulated penalties for violating commission regulations. In effect, the committee gutted the

McMahon bill’s original commitment to the free dissemination of information. Although the scientists’ organizations disliked the new provisions and the FAS temporarily withheld its endorsement from the revised bill, many scientists reluctantly accepted them as a political reality. On June 31 1, the Senate adopted the bill with virtually no debate.

In the House, only vigorous action by the scientists’ associations, concerned citizens’ groups, and the bill’s supporters in the Senate averted a potentially fatal series of amendments. Andrew J. May and several members of the

Military Affairs Committee felt slighted over the way in which the original May-Johnson bill had been scuttled by the

Senate. Conservative Republicans, led by Clare Boothe Luce of Connecticut, denounced the commission as a "commissariat" 90

for its monopolistic powers of ownership and control which

threatened to stifle private industrial development. Others

worried that the military would be inadequately represented

in the atomic energy field or that the commission would be

allowed to give away the "bomb secret" to the United Nations. As the extent of House opposition became apparent,

the scientists’ organizations and their lay allies sprang

into action. The American Physical Society and the FAS

council finally endorsed the McMahon Bill. The newly formed

National Committee for Civilian Control, a concerned

citizens’ group, launched a vigorous petition drive and

letter-writing campaign. Even so, the McMahon bill

eventually passed the House with some seventy-one amendments

attached. Fortunately for the scientists, the Senate

delegates to the Senate-House conference committee adopted a

united front against most of the these provisions. Although

they accepted House demands that the death penalty be

imposed for revealing atomic secrets and that the FBI be given wide investigative powers, McMahon and his colleagues

preserved the essentials of the original bill. On July 26, both houses adopted the Atomic Energy Act by voice vote, and

on August 1, President Truman signed it into law. 32

The battle over the Atomic Energy Act demonstrated that

scientists could be effective advocates and lobbyists in the

political arena on science-related issues, but even so they achieved only a partial victory. They secured a civilian- 91

controlled agency dedicated to both peaceful and military

research. Likewise, they advanced their goal of

international control by laying the groundwork for eventual

participation in a supranational atomic energy agency should

such a creature ever be established. Finally, they secured

an ongoing voice for scientists in atomic energy affairs

through the establishment of a nine-member General Advisory

Committee, appointed by the president, to "advise the

Commission on scientific and technical matters." 33

Nevertheless, these gains were offset by significant concessions to the military and the advocates of security

through secrecy. The armed forces retained an important role in weapons research and development, and the Military

Liaison Committee gave them a powerful voice in policymaking. Moreover, the original idea of widespread dissemination of information succumbed to a new emphasis on restrictive controls.

***

While the atomic scientists secured a partial victory

in the Atomic Energy Act of 1946, they suffered a clear-cut defeat in their primary aim of establishing an effective system for the international control of atomic energy. On this issue, both the scientific administrators and the working scientists agreed in principle. Oppenheimer, in fact, played the leading role in drafting what became known as the Acheson-Lilienthal Report, providing for an 92

international Atomic Development Authority which would

monopolize all dangerous activities in the atomic energy

field. By the time the American proposal was presented to

the United Nations, however, the original emphasis on

cooperation had been replaced by a more rigid system based on sanctions. The Soviet delegates objected to several key

provisions in the American plan, but perhaps even more

importantly Josef Stalin had already determined to develop a

Soviet atomic bomb. As a result, the UN negotiations ended

in failure, and by the end of 1946 the nuclear arms race predicted in the Franck Report had begun in earnest.

Perhaps the only positive outcome from the whole episode was

that it repaired some of the damage in the relationship between the scientific administrators and rank-and-file scientists that had been caused by the battle for domestic control of atomic energy.

In the fall of 1945, the atomic scientists moved beyond mere rhetoric calling for the international control of atomic energy and initiated technical studies of possible control systems. The Federation of Atomic Scientists coordinated a series of studies by the Manhattan project site organizations, with the idea of eventually presenting an integrated proposal to Senator McMahon’s Special

Committee on Atomic Energy. One such report, dealing with the technical feasibility of international inspection, introduced a novel concept. It called for "an international 93 laboratory staffed with top-flight men working on the problem of atomic energy, to try to insure that no single nation could get ahead in developing new methods which may make inspection procedures obsolete." 34 Over the next few weeks, this idea would be further refined by Oppenheimer in his capacity as a consultant to the State Department.

By January, 1946, with strong encouragement from Bush and Conant, President Truman had already committed the

United States in principle to the idea of international control of atomic energy through the United Nations, but the details of American policy remained to be determined.

Secretary of State James F. Byrnes delegated this responsibility to a special committee chaired by Under

Secretary of State Dean G. Acheson and including Manhattan project veterans Bush, Conant and Groves, and former Stimson assistant John J. McCloy. The committee in turn recruited a board of technical consultants to devise a system of controls and safeguards. David E. Lilienthal, head of the

Tennessee Valley Authority, chaired the group. Oppenheimer, now back at the University of California after resigning as director of Los Alamos, provided expertise in physics. Two other Manhattan project veterans, Harry A. Winne, vice- president for engineering of General Electric, and Charles

A. Thomas, an expert on plutonium chemistry and vice- president of Monsanto Chemical Company, agreed to serve.

Finally, Chester I. Barnard, president of the New Jersey 94 Bell Telephone Company and an expert on management, rounded

out the group. 35

The Acheson committee gave the Lilienthal board virtual

carte blanche to devise an effective system of inspection

and controls, and Oppenheimer quickly asserted intellectual

leadership over the group. After briefing his associates on

the essential elements of nuclear physics, Oppenheimer

outlined his own scheme for international control. He

proposed an international Atomic Development Authority (ADA)

that would exercise exclusive control over dangerous

activities in the atomic energy field. The supranational

agency would monopolize the supply of fissionable raw

materials, construct and operate all production facilities,

and conduct research and development on the peaceful

applications of atomic energy. Safe activities, such as

small-scale laboratory research, medical research, and

commercial power reactors, could still be performed at the national level under licensing and inspection arrangements with the international agency. Denaturing high-grade

fissionable materials used for peaceful applications might

be used to render them useless for military purposes. Only by emphasizing the positive, developmental functions of the

ADA, Oppenheimer argued, could the agency attract top-flight scientists from around the world. Moreover, only by remaining in the forefront of experimental work could the agency’s staff keep abreast of new developments that might 95 eventually undermine the control system. Throughout the

entire proposal ran the assumption that scientists, as true

internationalists, offered the best hope for an effective

system of control.36

Oppenheimer’s plan formed the core of what became known as the Acheson-Lilienthal Report, although the final document made several concessions to the concerns of the

Acheson committee. Bush and Conant felt that some minor changes had to be made in order to secure public and congressional approval for a plan that ultimately contemplated surrendering America’s atomic monopoly. For example, Oppenheimer and the Lilienthal board had initially downplayed the value of a system of control based solely on inspection on the grounds that a purely negative policing function would attract low quality technical personnel and might be unduly antagonistic to host countries. At the suggestion of Bush and Conant, however, the final report explained that the ADA would have to conduct some inspection activity, particularly with regard to raw materials.

Similarly, the finished document noted that the control system would be established in a series of stages, and that the United States would only surrender its technical expertise and production facilities to the ADA after adequate safeguards had been established. The committee agreed that the sequence and timing of such stages would have to be determined by international negotiations. After 96 these modifications, the Acheson committee unanimously

endorsed the report and submitted it to Secretary Byrnes on

March 1'7, "not as a final plan, but as a place to begin, a

foundation on which to build." 37

Bernard Baruch, the American delegate to the United Nations Atomic Energy Commission, quickly made it clear that he certainly did not regard the Acheson-Lilienthal Report as a "final plan." Truman and Byrnes had selected Baruch in order to solidify domestic support for their policy of international control. The seventy-five-year-old Wall

Street financier, an inveterate anticommunist, was widely respected for his contributions to industrial mobilization in two world wars and for his exaggerated reputation as an adviser to presidents, but most of the Acheson-Lilienthal group believed that his appointment was a mistake.

Lilienthal wrote that the selection of Baruch made him

"sick," and that the American representative should be

"young, vigorous, not vain," and someone whom "the Russians would feel isn’t out simply to put them in a hole."

Oppenheimer similarly recalled that the day of Baruch’s appointment was the day he gave up hope for international control, and he later refused to serve as a scientific consultant to the American delegate because he believed that

Baruch would ignore his advice. Baruch soon confirmed these misgivings by insisting on participating in the formulation of policy and proceeding to undermine the original ADA 97

concept.38

After several weeks of consultations with the Acheson-

Lilienthal group, the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Secretary

Byrnes, and the president, Baruch and his advisers, all of

them businessmen, produced a revised plan for international control that became the official American position. 39

Baruch retained the core concept of an international ADA

with broad powers for the development and control of atomic

energy, but he added several provisions which he regarded as

essential if the United States were to surrender its

"winning weapon" to a supranational agency. He insisted

that the first stage in implementing international control

must be a preliminary survey of the world's fissionable raw materials, which obviously would entail countries opening

their borders to international inspectors. Only after eight

further stages had been completed and the international

agency had been established, a process expected to take

several years, would the United States give up its atomic

weapons monopoly. Baruch also believed that the ADA charter

should clearly define illegal activities and fix adequate

penalties for violators. Moreover, he was adamant that the

veto power provisions of the United Nations Charter would

have to be revised with respect to atomic energy affairs in

order to prevent Security Council members from violating

international control measures with impunity. As Baruch

told the UN Atomic Energy Commission when he introduced the 98 American plan on June 14: "There must be no veto to protect

those who violate their solemn agreements not to develop or use atomic energy for destructive purposes.

Oppenheimer had warned that Baruch's preoccupation with

inspection provisions, punishments, and the veto would jeopardize any chance of the Soviet Union accepting the ADA as the basis for negotiations, and his forecast proved to be correct. Although the Soviet delegate, Andrei Gromyko, did not initially reject the Baruch Plan outright, on June 19 he introduced a counterproposal calling for an immediate international agreement to outlaw the possession, production, and use of atomic weapons, to be followed by the establishment of safeguards to enforce compliance with the agreement. He also emphasized that the Soviet Union would reject any attempt to tamper with the veto power of permanent members of the Security Council. On June 24, however, Gromyko delivered a root-and-branch denunciation of the Baruch Plan, effectively ending any prospect of agreement. The UN talks continued sporadically for two more years, but by the middle of 1946 international control was already a dead letter.^*

In reality, neither the American nor the Soviet negotiators felt much need to soften their positions in order to achieve intenational control. On the American side, Baruch, Byrnes, and even Truman had accepted General

Groves’ contention that the Soviet Union lacked both the raw 99 materials and the industrial know-how to develop an atomic bomb in the next twenty years. Moreover, as the Joint

Chiefs of Staff had explained, the atomic bomb gave the

United States the ability to offset the Russian advantage in conventional forces in Europe. Under such circumstances, Baruch saw no reason to surrender the "winning weapon" unless the United States received guarantees that the ADA would have sufficient powers to protect American security.

In other words, Baruch believed that the United States had more to lose from an imperfect regime for international control than from a complete breakdown in talks and the remote prospect of a nuclear arms race.^

On the Russian side, Stalin, too, saw little incentive to compromise. He had already determined in August, 1945, that the Soviet Union must have its own atomic bomb to break the American nuclear monopoly. Given this central fact, it seems safe to assume that Soviet participation in international control negotiations stemmed more from propaganda concerns than from a genuine commitment to international control. Moreover, the Baruch Plan contained several provisions completely inimical to Soviet interests.

Foreign Minister V. M. Molotov stressed that the Soviet

Union would never compromise the principle of unanimity in the Security Council by modifying the veto power. Gromyko pointedly observed that the plan effectively preserved the

American nuclear weapons monopoly while everyone else 100 submitted to international inspection and control. Finally,

the Soviets rejected the notion of "foreign" control of

Soviet resources, a central concept of Oppenheimer’s Atomic

Development Authority. In other words, while Baruch’s modifications certainly antagonized the Soviet Union, as Oppenheimer and others had predicted, even the Acheson-

Lilienthal Report in its pure form would have been unacceptable to the Soviet Union. 43

The failure of international control in 1946 dealt a serious blow to the atomic scientists’ movement, which had consistently been the chief advocate for the cause. As the initial hope generated by the Acheson-Lilienthal plan gave way to frustration and pessimism, FAS membership steadily declined from 3,000 to just over 1,000 by 1949. The

National Committee on Atomic Information ceased to function altogether. Moreover, as the Cold War intensified, the FAS and other scientists’ organizations advocating international control fell under increasing suspicion of being "fellow- travelers." In October, 1948, the FAS had to establish a special committee to provide legal advice to members involved in loyalty cases. The only positive outcome of the entire episode was that the visible efforts of Oppenheimer and Bush on behalf of international control served to repair the rift between them and the rank-and-file atomic scientists that had arisen over the Atomic Energy Act. *** 101

The rancorous debate over atomic energy legislation in

1945 and 1946 initially overshadowed a somewhat similar

debate regarding competing schemes for a national science

foundation. By the end of the war, a general consensus

favored federal support for scientific research and

education, but significant differences arose over how the

new scientific agency should be organized. Senator Harley

M. Kilgore (D-WV) advocated a science foundation responsive

to national needs and subject to presidential control.

Vannevar Bush, in the tradition of best-science elitism,

sought to insulate national science policy from political

interference by vesting control largely in the hands of

scientists themselves. Nevertheless, the degree of common

ground between the two proposals in other areas gave reason

to hope that a suitable compromise arrangement would soon be

found. But compromise proved to be elusive. Unlike the atomic energy issue, where the atomic scientists became a powerful lobby for the McMahon Act, scientists failed to present a united front on the science foundation. In addition, the issue became embroiled in party politics, particularly after the Republican congressional triumphs of

1946. Only in May, 1950, did the National Science

Foundation Act finally become law, and by that time the agency's structure and mandate had been considerably modified from the original proposals.

By the summer of 1945, two programs for a science 102

foundation stood before the Congress, one drafted by Senator

Kilgore, the other written by Vannevar Bush and sponsored by freshman Senator Warren G. Magnuson (D-WA). Although

important differences existed between the two, they also shared considerable common ground. Both agreed on the need for a new federal agency to support research in the natural sciences, medicine, and national defense. Similarly, they both advocated science scholarships and fellowships to offset an expected shortfall in scientific and technical manpower. Finally, both provided that the new agency would formulate a national science policy and coordinate federal research programs. The main differences between the two schemes concerned patents, the geographical distribution of funds, support for the social sciences, and, most importantly, the organizational structure of the new agency.44

Senator Kilgore’s bill clearly revealed his statist proclivities. He believed that patents arising from federally-funded research should become public property and should be subject to nonexclusive licensing arrangements.

He also felt that some geographical distribution of funds would be necessary in order to prevent the monopolization of federal research monies by a handful of elite private institutions. To the dismay of Bush and political conservatives, Kilgore’s bill specifically included support for the social sciences. Most significantly, however, 103

Kilgore believed that the National Science Foundation should

promote socially useful research and should be politically

responsive. He therefore proposed that the agency be

managed by a director, appointed by the president with the

advice and consent of the Senate, assisted by a

presidentially-appointed board including representatives of

government, industry, labor, education, and the public at

large.

The Bush program, as presented in the Magnuson bill,

reflected the author’s more conservative inclinations and

his firm faith in best-science elitism. It rejected the

notion that all patents arising from federally-funded

research should automatically belong to the government, and

instead called for the foundation’s board to determine

precise patent policy. Similarly, the Magnuson bill advocated support for the best researchers, regardless of

their location, and made no mention of the social sciences.

Finally, in keeping with his corporatist philosophy, Bush devised an administrative structure designed to insulate the foundation from political control. He proposed that the new agency be governed by a nine-member, part-time board of private citizens with scientific backgrounds, who would be appointed by the president. By making the board a part-time body, Bush paved the way for leading academic and industrial researchers to occupy the top policymaking positions. He also provided for the board members to select the 104 foundation’s director, thereby making him accountable to the board, not the president. In this way, Bush intended to keep national science policy in the hands of the nation’s leading scientists and to prevent government control of research.^ Whereas scientists presented a united front against the

War Department’s atomic energy bill, it soon became apparent during Senate hearings on the Kilgore and Magnuson bills that no such unity existed with regard to the science foundation. The elitist Bush approach received its strongest support from OSRD veterans, representatives of the leading private research universities, industrial researchers, and the armed forces. James B. Conant and

Isaiah Bowman, the presidents of Harvard and Johns Hopkins universities respectively, forcefully argued for a part-time policymaking board in order to prevent prevent undue political control of science. Conant also argued that a board would be less likely to succumb to outside pressures from constituents than would the all-powerful single administrator envisioned in the Kilgore bill. Corporate researchers, like Irving Langmuir of General Electric, and the armed services strongly supported Bush’s patent provisions on the grounds that private ownership was a necessary incentive for industry to engage in government research. Finally, some natural scientists, most notably the traditionally conservative American Chemical Society, 105 agreed with Bush that the social sciences were

"unscientific," and that they should therefore be excluded from science legislation. In November, Bowman brought together many of these people in his Committee Supporting the Bush Report, which claimed to represent the "great majority of American scientists," and lobbied the Truman jg administration for the Magnuson bill.

But the hearings revealed that Bush and his supporters did not speak for the "great majority" of scientists and educators. A significant number of witnesses either preferred the Kilgore program or suggested the need for revisions to the Bush approach. The liberal American

Association of Scientific Workers, a participant in the prewar science and society debates, strongly endorsed the

Kilgore bill for its emphasis on utilitarian research.

Representatives of land-grant colleges and state-supported universities, still smarting from the lack of wartime research contracts and fearful of losing out again to the elite universities in the competition for federal research dollars, supported Kilgore’s idea of disbursing a portion of the foundation’s funds on a geographical basis. They argued that such an approach would serve the national interest by developing new centers of research and education. Others, like University of Texas vice-president Chauncey D. Leake, argued that Bush’s part-time board would be narrowly drawn from the elite schools or the leading scientific societies, 106

resulting in a national science policy dictated by a virtual

oligarchy. The Kilgore scheme for a broadly representative board would help allay such a danger. Finally, while the vast majority of witnesses favored a national science foundation, support for the Bush program itself seemed remarkably soft. Scientists like Harvard astronomer Harlow

Shapley and Manhattan project veteran and Nobel laureate

Harold C. Urey believed that it was more important to establish a science foundation in some form than to insist on the exact terms of the Bush plan. Indeed, in December,

Shapley and Urey took the lead in organizing a rival lobbying group, the Committee for a National Science

Foundation, which promoted just such a philosophy. 47

The only voice of dissent among the witnesses was that of Frank B. Jewett, aging president of the National Academy of Sciences and diehard advocate of a return to prewar laissez-faire arrangements. Jewett remained deeply suspicious of any federal involvement in science whatsoever, arguing that a new central scientific agency in the government would inevitably result in bureaucratic controls that would undermine scientific freedom. He also expressed concern that government financial support for research might erode traditional sources of support in the private sector.

He therefore recommended against establishing a national science foundation in any form. Although no other scientific witnesses expressed such views, Jewett found 107

support from the National Association of Manufacturers and

political conservatives in Congress. Indeed, after the

hearings, at Jewett's instigation, conservative Republican

Senator Raymond E. Willis of Indiana introduced a bill

providing for a limited federal research program to be

4 Q administered by Jewett’s National Academy of Sciences.

Perhaps more troublesome for Bush was the fact that his

program faced considerable opposition from several of his

erstwhile colleagues in the Truman administration. Budget

Director Harold D. Smith, assisted by Don K. Price and James

R. Newman of the Office of War Mobilization and Reconversion

(OWMR), two of the principals involved in drafting the

McMahon atomic energy bill, insisted that any agency

responsible for disbursing government funds and coordinating

federal research programs had to be responsible to the

president and Congress. As a result, the administration

officially endorsed the Kilgore approach of a powerful, presidentially-appointed director assisted by an advisory

board. Whereas Conant had worried that a single director might be vulnerable to political pressure, Smith argued that

a part-time policymaking board might face conflicts of

interest in distributing federal grants to their own colleagues and institutions. To Bush’s further chagrin,

President Truman, in a speech drafted by Newman, endorsed both Kilgore’s patent provisions and federal support for the social sciences. Clearly, if a national science foundation 108 were to be created, Bush would have to reconcile his program with the stated position of the Truman administration. 49

Early in 1946, the Bush and Kilgore camps, assisted by

Price, negotiated a series of compromises that resulted in a new bill, S. 1850, cosponsored by Magnuson and Kilgore. Both sides had misgivings about the result, but the bill apparently enjoyed the approval of most scientists. On the central issue of control, Kilgore and the administration secured a presidentially-appointed director and an advisory board, but the president was to "consult with and receive recommendations" from the board before making the appointment. The board itself would consist of nine members appointed by the president, along with the chairmen of the foundation’s divisional committees. The bill explicitly established a division of social sciences, but Bush obtained language that limited its research activity to projects examining the impact of science on society. He secured similar concessions regarding patents. Although public use remained the foundation’s stated policy, Kilgore moderated his stand to allow the director the flexibility to grant private ownership to contractors under certain circumstances. On the issue of geographical distribution of funds, however, the bill retained Kilgore’s provision for allocating 25 per cent of the foundation’s grants by formula. Overall, S. 1850 came closer to the original

Kilgore program than the Bush Report, but the compromise 109 measure received strong public backing from the science press, the council of the American Association for the

Advancement of Science (AAAS), and the Committee for a

National Science Foundation. Even the Committee Supporting the Bush Report gave its grudging approval, while expressing reservations about the specific provisions regarding the social sciences, patent policy, and the geographical distribution of funds.^

Shortly after the Congress began debate on the compromise bill, however, the fragile unity in the scientific community behind S. 1850 collapsed, eventually resulting in the failure of science legislation in the 79th

Congress. Although Bush and his allies reluctantly accepted

S. 1850 as the basis for legislation, they still hoped to secure revisions in the House or Senate that would restore most of Bush’s original concept. Consequently, when the

Senate Military Affairs Committee reported the bill favorably, Bush encouraged freshman Republican Senator H.

Alexander Smith of New Jersey, a former secretary of

Princeton University, to lead a floor fight to amend the bill along the lines of the Bush Report. Smith narrowly failed to restore board control over the foundation by one vote, but the full Senate did reject the social sciences division. Meanwhile, in the House, Bush took a more direct role. He persuaded Congressman Wilbur D. Mills (D-AR) to introduce an alternative measure almost identical with the 110

original Magnuson bill. Bush apparently hoped that the more

conservative House would adopt his entire program, and when

he appeared at House hearings on the bill it soon became

obvious that he had abandoned S. 1850. Faced with two

science foundation bills, one supported by the Bush-Bowman group and the other by the Urey-Shapley coalition, the House

Interstate and Foreign Commerce Committee declared itself

unable to reconcile the two and failed to report any bill

before the 79th Congress expired. Howard A. Meyerhoff, the

liberal executive secretary of the AAAS and a strong

supporter of S. 1850, angrily denounced Bush and his allies

for undermining the compromise agreement. The death of the national science foundation, he declared, was a "homicide" committed by scientists themselves.®*

Many scientists, including Conant, concluded from the debacle of 1946 that the only way to secure a national science foundation was to put aside their differences and maintain a united front, but the Republican congressional victories of that year encouraged Bush to renew his efforts to achieve his original program. While Conant, in his capacity as AAAS president, established a broad-based Inter-

Society Committee for a National Science Foundation, Bush cultivated support among the Republican leadership in the

Congress. In February, 1947, Senator Smith introduced a new bill, cosponsored by Magnuson on the Democratic side, that closely followed the Bush Report. It vested control of the Ill national science foundation in a presidentially-appointed,

part-time board of private citizens who would select their own full-time director. The bill likewise excluded the

social sciences, provided for a flexible patent policy, and made only a vague reference to strengthening research throughout the country. Despite new Budget Director James

E. Webb’s warning that the administration could not accept a foundation so insulated from presidential control, the

Republican majorities drove the Smith bill through Congress in July.^

For several days, President Truman’s response to the science foundation bill seemed in doubt. Scientists and educators outside the administration, such as Conant’s

Inter-Society Committee, anxious to avoid a repeat of the previous year’s fiasco, recommended approval. Even the

Association of Land-Grant Colleges and Universities favored the bill, despite the absence of a specific geographic distribution formula. Within the administration, however, both Budget Director Webb and National Bureau of Standards director Condon urged rejection because of its unacceptable administrative structure. On August 6, Truman vetoed the bill on the grounds that it represented "a marked departure from sound principles for the administration of public affairs." While still expressing support for the concept of a national science foundation and noting the importance of scientific advice to policymakers, the president explained 112

that he could not countenance the "determination of vital

national policies, the expenditure of large public funds, and the administration of important governmental functions" by a group of private citizens. 53

Truman’s veto of the Smith bill was made easier by the fact that the administration was now ready to seize the

initiative on the national science foundation issue. In

October, 1946, at the recommendation of Newman, Price, and

Condon, Truman had created the President’s Scientific

Research Board (PSRB) to examine the federal government’s research activities and make recommendations on national science policy. From the outset it became clear that the board’s primary function was to promote the "right type" of science foundation. Significantly, Truman named OWMR director James R. Steelman, not Bush, as chairman of the board. Indeed, Bush was clearly losing his unofficial position as de facto science adviser to the president.

Moreover, although the PSRB supposedly included all heads of federal agencies involved in research activities, neither the service secretaries nor Bush were ever consulted about their views on national science policy. Not surprisingly, when the PSRB issued its report in August, 1947, it recommended the creation of a science foundation headed by a presidentially-appointed director and assisted by a part- time advisory board of "distinguished scientists and educators" drawn equally from the federal government and the 113 private sector.^

Having twice failed to secure science legislation, the proponents of a national science foundation in the administration and Congress again huddled to work out a compromise acceptable to all sides, but this time a coalition of conservative Republicans and southern Democrats

in the House thwarted prompt action. In 1948 and again in

1949, the conservative House Rules Committee bottled up compromise science bills that had passed the Senate.

Influential committee members like Adolph J. Sabath (D-IL),

Christian A. Herter (R-MA), and James W. Wadsworth (R-NY), sympathized with Jewett’s laissez-faire ideas and expressed concern about further raids on the treasury. Only after intense lobbying by members of the administration, including

Truman and Bush, did the Rules Committee finally report a science bill to the House floor in February, 1950. Even then, however, conservatives attached a series of amendments that reflected not only their fiscal restraint but also their mounting concern with internal security. The House bill imposed a $15 million budget ceiling on the science foundation, required loyalty oaths from all recipients of scholarships and fellowships, mandated FBI investigation into the loyalty of all foundation employees and scholarship recipients, and required FBI clearance for all foreign scholars. Although the conference committee excised the most onerous security provisions, the final bill approved by 114

Congress in April retained both the budget ceiling and

loyalty oath requirement. 55

The National Science Foundation Act signed by President

Truman on May 10, 1950, largely represented a victory for

the Bush approach. Although the foundation was to be headed by a presidentially-appointed director, the law provided

that the president consider nominations from scientists'

organizations before making the appointment, and that the

director share policymaking responsibility with Bush’s part-

time board of 24 private citizens. As Bush had envisioned,

Truman's list of nominees to the National Science Board

included representatives from the leading universities,

private foundations, and science-based corporations.

Similarly, while the Act encouraged the development of new centers of research and education throughout the country,

there was no specific formula for the geographical distribution of funds. Nor did the final law make any changes in the wartime policy for patents arising out of

federally-funded research. Nevertheless, the 1950 Act did provide for a more limited foundation than either Bush or

Kilgore had originally envisioned. Unlike the earlier bills, which had called on the NSF to develop and promote a national policy for broad-based research, the 1950 Act specifically confined the foundation’s responsibility to basic research and science education. In addition, as will be discussed below, the final bill contained no division of 115 military research, leaving the task of militarily-related basic research to the armed services themselves. Overall, however, the Act achieved Bush’s goal of a program of federal support for basic research and scientific training

Cl* insulated from political control.

***

The delay in creating the National Science Foundation had an adverse effect on the plans of Bush and other OSRD veterans to ensure a continuing, largely autonomous civilian role in military research and development, and to achieve a national research program balanced between civilian and military concerns. Even before the end of the war, Army and

Navy leaders recognized that an ongoing partnership with top civilian scientists and engineers would be vital for the nation’s defense in the postwar period. Henceforth, national security would depend on technological superiority.

But when early attempts to formalize such a partnership through the creation of new government agencies, such as the

Research Board for National Security or the National Defense

Division of the NSF, fell victim to bureaucratic infighting and partisan politics, the armed services set about establishing their own direct contacts with civilian researchers in industry and the universities. As a result, the concept of a civilian agency devoted to military research became irrelevant. By the time of the Korean War, the federal government had grown to become the nation’s 116 largest patron of research and development, with the

Department of Defense and the Atomic Energy Commission accounting for over 90 per cent of total federal research expenditures. In addition, the military establishment had also enlisted leading civilian researchers through roving consultantships. Despite the best intentions of Bush and others to strike a balance between civilian and military research, the armed services had effectively mobilized the nation’s scientific resources for the Cold War on their own terms.^

During World War II, impressed by the accomplishments of Bush’s OSRD, defense planners recognized the need for the ongoing participation of civilian scientists and engineers in military research and development after the war.

Civilian researchers had already made substantial contributions to military technology through such devices as radar, proximity fuses, and amphibious vehicles. They had also pioneered in the field of operations analysis, using statistical methods and probability to advise on the tactical application of new military hardware. Despite some lingering resentment over Bush’s occasionally high-handed treatment of military officers, Army and Navy leaders recognized that continuing ties with the civilian research community would be essential in order to keep abreast of scientific and technological advances. Their main concern was that Bush, who had always considered OSRD a "temporary 117 wartime expedient," would speedily liquidate the agency before suitable arrangements had been made to preserve the wartime partnership. Thus, in the spring of 1945, the services sponsored a joint Army-Navy-OSRD study, chaired by

Charles E. Wilson of General Electric, to consider the postwar organization of military research and development.

The civilian scientists on the Wilson Committee agreed with Bush’s assumption that military research was too important to be left exclusively to military men, and that civilians should continue to exercise a degree of autonomy in the field. They disagreed, however, on the structure of a peacetime equivalent of OSRD. Merle A. Tuve, a nuclear physicist from Bush’s Carnegie Institution of Washington, advocated the creation of a new federal agency, the Research

Board for National Security (RBNS), which would include both civilian scientists and military men and would let research contracts to the universities and industrial laboratories in the manner of OSRD. Frank B'. Jewett, president of the

National Academy of Sciences and staunch opponent of any further expansion of federal power, suggested that the board be located within the Academy where it would be immune from political pressures. The Academy’s reputation would ensure the support of the nation’s best scientists, while research funds would be obtained from the armed services rather than through direct congressional appropriations. The Navy 118 representatives, remembering the Academy’s prewar inertia and impressed by OSRD’s wartime performance, preferred

Tuve’s approach, arguing that only independent funding could guarantee the necessary degree of autonomy for civilian scientists. But the Army sided with Jewett, arguing that the armed services could not completely abdicate their responsibility for military research, and that the creation of a new federal agency might entail a prolonged political struggle in Congress that could delay essential work.

Consequently, the Wilson Committee Report of September,

1944, made two recommendations. It called for the creation of an Academy RBNS as a stopgap replacement for OSRD, but suggested that Congress consider the creation of an independent RBNS as a long-term solution. 59

Early in 1945, at the request of the service secretaries, Academy president Jewett established the RBNS under the chairmanship of MIT president Karl Compton, but the board’s existence proved to be brief and ineffective.

Although the armed services and Bush’s OSRD supported the

Academy board as an interim solution, and Jewett and the Army even hoped to make the arrangement permanent, Budget

Director Harold D. Smith was unalterably opposed to the concept of a private agency performing a public function.

In the final analysis, he argued, military research and development had to remain accountable to the commander-in- chief. He therefore persuaded presidents Roosevelt and 119

Truman to withhold funds from the Academy board and to

insist that OSRD continue to function until hostilities

ceased. Meanwhile, the efforts of Tuve and the Navy to

obtain legislation creating an independent RBNS were

overtaken by the course of events. Senator Harry F. Byrd

(D-VA) sponsored a bill that was reported by his Senate

Naval Affairs Committee in July, 1945, but it coincided with

the Truman administration’s release of the Bush Report,

which called for the creation of a National Research

Foundation with a Division of National Defense. The issue

of civilian participation in military research and development now became embroiled in the larger debate over comprehensive science legislation. In February, 1946,

lacking funds and support from the Truman adminstration, and abandoned by Bush, Jewett officially terminated the

Academy’s RBNS.^

Unlike Jewett, Bush had always viewed the Academy RBNS as a temporary expedient, preferring the creation of a new government agency as the best means of ensuring a continued partnership between scientists and the military in defense

research and development. He believed that OSRD’s wartime success demonstrated that only a civilian body with congressional authority, independent funding, and under the expert guidance of scientists could ensure the "freshness of approach and independence of mind" essential for innovative military research. fil The services should concentrate on 120

improving existing weaponry, while long-range fundamental

research with potential military applications should be the

primary responsibility of civilian scientists in the

universities and industry. Bush therefore included a

Division of National Defense in his NRF, headed by civilians and devoted to "long-range scientific research on military matters." By locating defense research within his broader

program, Bush hoped to strike a balance between military and civilian research. Unfortunately, his plan backfired.

Although both service secretaries endorsed the concept, when

the science legislation became bogged down on the issue of control, the Army and Navy began to make unilateral go arrangements with the civilian research community.

As early as 1944, in fact, elements within the Navy had already begun to contemplate the best means of securing civilian scientific talent for peacetime naval research. A group of young reserve officers with technical backgrounds under Rear Admiral Julius A. Furer, Coordinator of Research, eventually devised a plan for the creation of an Office of

Naval Research (ONR). The ONR would not only initiate and coordinate applied research in the Navy’s own facilities, but it would also sponsor fundamental research in the best civilian laboratories for the purpose of developing new weapons. In order to allay the concerns of scientists and university administrators about the potential for military domination of science, the office would allow academics to 121

initiate their own projects, subject them to peer review,

and, wherever possible, publish their results. Moreover,

the ONR would be accompanied by a part-time Naval Research

Advisory Committee (NRAC), composed of civilians "preeminent

in the fields of science, research, and development work,"

to advise the Chief of Naval Research and Chief of Naval

Operations on scientific matters. Through these

arrangements the Navy planned, in Furer’s words, "to maintain the interest of civilian scientists in the Navy’s problems." In August, 1946, with the science foundation

legislation stalled, Congress enacted the Navy plan. 63

Under the energetic leadership of Admiral Harold G.

Bowen, ONR quickly moved to fulfill its mandate.

Recognizing that national security now required

"intellectual armament rather than the building of specific things," and that the absence of a science foundation might have significant repercussions for the national defense, ONR went beyond the narrow field of naval technology to support a variety of nonmilitary projects in basic science. In this way, ONR assumed partial responsibility for enlarging the pool of scientific manpower and replenishing the reservoir of fundamental knowledge until the proposed civilian agency could be established. After some initial hesitation, many university administrators and academic researchers accepted military funding in order to build up their facilities and finance pet projects. At Karl Compton’s MIT, for example, 122 the Navy underwrote the establishment of a new Laboratory of

Nuclear Science and Engineering (LNSE) under physicist

Jerrold R. Zacharias. Bowen, an enthusiast for a nuclear- powered Navy, recognized that such a facility would both advance the art of power reactors and provide a cadre of trained personnel to build and operate them. At the same time, MIT quickly became a leader in basic research for military technology. In all, by 1949, ONR had some 1,200 projects underway at over 200 academic institutions with an gi annual budget of more than $20 million.

The Army similarly cultivated ties with the civilian research community. Like his naval counterparts, Army Chief of Staff Dwight D. Eisenhower recognized that civilian scientists had to be drawn into peacetime military research and planning. Influenced by Bush’s ideas, Eisenhower believed that the Array had a "duty to support broad research programs in educational institutions, in industry, and in whatever field might be of importance." Such programs would directly benefit the Army, but they would also indirectly prepare civilians for a possible role in any national CC emergency. Eisenhower centralized control over research and development by establishing a Research and Development

Division in the General Staff, headed by Major General Henry

S. Aurand, and charged with responsibility for the

"initiation, allocation, coordination and progress" of all research and development programs. The Director, assisted 123

by a civilian scientist, would also advise the Chief of

Staff and Secretary of War on research and development

matters and would act as a liaison with civilian scientists.

Meanwhile, in a major departure from traditional practice,

Army Ordnance began sponsoring research on guided missiles at the California Institute of Technology’s Jet Propulsion

Laboratory. The Army Air Force also set up its own basic

research unit at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base, which

eventually evolved into the Air Force Office of Air

Research. Not surprisingly, these initiatives by the armed

forces weakened the sense of urgency surrounding the passage

of comprehensive science legislation, and in 1947

congressional leaders quietly dropped consideration of a

statutory Division of National Defense within the NSF.

While his scheme for a relatively autonomous civilian

role in military research floundered, Bush endured further

frustration in his efforts to secure a coequal partnership

between scientists and the military in planning for the

evolution and use of new weapons. In July, 1946, at the

urging of Bush and the Joint Chiefs of Staff, the service

secretaries created the Joint Research and Development Board

(JRDB). The five-man board, chaired by Bush and including

two representatives from each service, took over OSRD’s

wartime role of "coordinating all research and development

programs of joint interest to the armed services." Its goal was a "strong, unified, integrated and complete research and 124 development program in the field of national defense." 67

Under the National Security Act of 1947, the JDRB evolved

into the seven-man Research and Development Board (RDB),

still chaired by Bush but now expanded to accommodate two

representatives from the newly-independent Air Force. In addition to its coordinating role, the RDB was to advise the

Secretary of Defense on the progress and needs of military research and development, and the Joint Chiefs on the CQ interaction of military technology with strategy.

Unfortunately for Bush, cumbersome organizational arrangements hampered the RDB ’ s attempts to fashion an

integrated military research and development program.

Reflecting Bush’s managerial philosophy that technical problems were best resolved at the working level, the board conducted most of its work through committees of civilian and military personnel, each dealing with a particular area of defense research, supported by a permanent secretariat.

The committees, themselves, were further subdivided into specialized panels organized around specific problems. By

1949, the RDB had 15 committees and 76 panels, and employed

250 full-time staff and over 2,000 part-time consultants from academia, industry, and the armed forces. But this fragmentation hindered efforts to rationalize military research and development by rooting out unnecessary duplication. Moreover, the RDB lacked the authority to enforce decisions on projects and priorities among the 125 services, relying instead on voluntary cooperation.

Finally, most civilian consultants served on a part-time basis, which put them at a considerable disadvantage when dealing with military men who worked full-time on particular weapons systems. When Bush resigned in frustration in October, 1948, Secretary of Defense Forrestal tried to strengthen the RDB chair by making it a full-time position, but to little effect. Neither of Bush’s successors, Karl

Compton and former AEC Military Liaison Committee chairman

William Webster, succeeded in developing a unitary program of military research and development. Instead, they limited themselves to surveying the gamut of defense research projects and reporting on their status to the Secretary of

Defense and the Joint Chiefs. 89

The RDB also ran into the problem of interservice rivalry over roles and missions. In a period of tight military budgets, no service was willing to surrender research projects which might enhance its own mission or enable it to compete for another service’s mission. The Air

Force and the Navy, for example, vigorously disagreed over who should have responsibility for strategic bombing.

Although the Joint Chiefs papered over some of these differences in the Key West agreement of 1947 and the

Newport conference of 1948, the RDB committees frequently became a forum for military representatives to expound their own particular service viewpoint. Without the authority to 126

make binding decisions, the RDB’s civilian scientists could

do little to eliminate redundant research projects. By

1948, the services had no fewer than 35 guided missiles

projects, but they resisted all RDB efforts to eliminate

wasteful duplication. 70 Before leaving the RDB, Bush attempted to strengthen

the role of civilian scientists in long-range military

planning through the creation of a new civilian-military

support agency, the Weapons Systems Evaluation Group (WSEG),

attached to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. As an advocate of greater unification, Bush hoped that the WSEG could

eliminate some of the controversy over roles and missions by providing the JCS and the services with "rigorous, unprejudiced and independent analyses and evaluations of present and future weapons systems under probable combat conditions." Secretary Forrestal formally established the group in December, 1948, appointing Lieutenant General John

E. Hull as director and recruiting MIT physicist and operations analyst Philip M. Morse to be deputy director and chief scientist. Eventually, the WSEG comprised approximately 50 members, evenly divided “between civilian scientists and military officers. 71

The WSEG ultimately outlived the RDB, but its forays into the quagmire of roles and missions proved to be equally frustrating. In 1949, for example, new Secretary of Defense

Louis A. Johnson called on Hull’s WSEG to help settle the 127

acrimonious public dispute between the Air Force and the

Navy over the relative merits of large aircraft carriers and

long-range, land-based bombers. In the fierce battle for

congressional funding, Navy advocates argued that the

planned B-36 bomber was plagued by technical problems and

would be vulnerable to Soviet air defenses. They also

questioned the wisdom of a defense posture based primarily

on air-atomic power, arguing that supercarriers would add

flexibility to the nation’s military strategy. The Air

Force countered by arguing that the Navy’s supercarrier task

force concept would be even more vulnerable than long-range

bombers because carriers would be liable to attack by

surface vessels and submarines, as well as Soviet aircraft.

While the House Armed Services Committee undertook an

investigation of the charges and countercharges, Johnson

asked WSEG to conduct a technical study of the feasibility

of strategic bombing, including an evaluation of the B-36 bomber. 72

The WSEG study, presented personally to Truman and his

top national security advisers early in 1950, raised serious

questions about the feasibility of a sustained air-atomic

offensive but had little impact on policy. The report

estimated an attrition rate of between 30 and 50 per cent

for the bomber force. It also estimated that under current

levels of accuracy only between one-half and two-thirds of the industrial facilities in the target areas would be 128

destroyed. With regard to the B-36, the WSEG noted that its

increased range was an advantage over existing bombers, but

that its ability to penetrate Soviet air defenses and

deliver bombs accurately was not appreciably better than

that of other available aircraft. Despite its generally pessimistic tone, the report did not lead to any significant

re-evaluation of military strategy, and the Air Force

continued to procure B-36 aircraft. Ironically, the bleak assessment of the effectiveness of an air-atomic assault probably spurred Truman to initiate an accelerated program

for the development of thermonuclear weapons, further unbalancing the nation’s military posture. 73

By 1952, Bush’s twin goals of an autonomous role for civilian scientists in military research and development and a national research program balanced between civilian and military needs had not been achieved. The delay in establishing the NSF enabled the defense establishment, as the primary patron of federal research, to set the terms of the postwar partnership between science and the military.

By 1951, two-thirds of the nation’s scientists and engineers were actively involved in defense research, but military officers jealously guarded their prerogatives with respect to policymaking. Characteristically, the Air Force responded to the WSEG critique of air-atomic power by calling for the group to be disbanded. Even when the NSF did come into operation, its $15 million budget ceiling 129

guaranteed that federal research for civilian purposes would

continue to play second fiddle to defense needs. Clearly,

the nation’s scientific resources had been mobilized for the

Cold War.

***

The hydrogen bomb debate, the single most important

issue concerning science and national security during the

Truman administration, demonstrated the limited influence of

official science advisers on national security issues. When the Soviet Union broke the American nuclear monopoly in

August 1949, President Truman came under considerable pressure from military advisers, the congressional Joint

Committee on Atomic Energy, and interested scientists to authorize development of the hydrogen bomb in order to sustain America’s technological lead in the arms race. But the Atomic Energy Commission’s General Advisory Committee, the administration’s official science advisory group on atomic energy affairs, recommended against such a step on moral, technical, and political grounds. Truman essentially ignored the GAC’s advice and sided with the powerful superbomb lobby. Given the heightened Cold War climate of

1950, notably the recent "loss" of China and the domestic campaign against subversives in government, Truman probably felt that he had no choice other than to approve development. Nevertheless, he failed to understand that the

H-bomb concept then under consideration was, as the GAC had 130

suggested, technically unfeasible. Only a stroke of genius

in 1951 rescued the superbomb project and saved the

administration from a costly scientific blunder. Perhaps

more importantly, the heated debate between pro-superbomb

and anti-superbomb scientists created a rift that would scar the scientific community for the next decade and would have

serious ramifications during the Eisenhower presidency.

The concept of a hydrogen weapon first received

consideration during the Manhattan project in World War II,

but significant technical problems remained unresolved

throughout the 1940s. In 1942, Edward Teller and Enrico

Fermi theorized that a fission reaction might be used to

generate the high temperatures necessary to initiate the

fusion of deuterium, an isotope of hydrogen, resulting in a

weapon of unprecedented power. At Los Alamos, Teller, a

member of Hans Bethe’s Theoretical Division, argued that an all-out effort should be devoted to the H-bomb, but

Oppenheimer and Bethe concluded that no such weapon could be built before the end of the war and that all available

resources should therefore be channeled into producing a deliverable fission weapon. Oppenheimer’s decision clearly

upset Teller, who continued to work on the problem and harbored a lingering resentment toward the Los Alamos director. After the war, theoretical- work on Teller’s

"classical super" continued at Los Alamos, but considerable scientific and technical problems remained. A 1946 131

conference on the weapon concluded that "a superbomb can be

constructed and will work," but also noted that the

complicated mathematical calculations necessary for

determining the configuration of a weapon would have to

91 await the construction of advanced computing machines.

After the failure to achieve international control of atomic energy in 1946, Oppenheimer and the newly-established

General Advisory Committee reluctantly concluded that the principal task of the AEC was to "provide atomic weapons and

Of good atomic weapons and many atomic weapons." Building up the modest stockpile of fission bombs and improving their efficiency received top priority, but low-key research on the superbomb concept continued. In 1947, for example, Los

Alamos scientists determined the amount of fission required to ignite deuterium. Work also began on another of Teller’s ideas, a fission-fusion bomb that would use energy from an atomic explosion to ignite a small amount of thermonuclear fuel, which in turn would increase the yield of the fission bomb. The so-called Booster promised not only to improve the efficiency of fission weapons, but also to provide information on the nuclear reagents needed for a superbomb.

Despite these modest advances, Teller, who had left Los

Alamos for the University of Chicago, remained concerned that the AEC was giving insufficient support to the thermonuclear project. 76

The Soviet Union’s explosion of an atomic device in August, 1949, changed the situation dramatically for Teller

and other proponents of a concerted superbomb program. At

the end of September, Senator Brien MacMahon’s Joint

Committee on Atomic Energy (JCAE) recommended an all-out

effort to develop the H-bomb as one of several responses to the new Soviet threat. A week later, AEC Commissioner Lewis

L. Strauss, a Hoover Republican and frustrated physicist,

advocated "a quantum jump in our planning" to stay ahead of

the Russians. Specifically, he suggested "an intensive

effort to get ahead with the super ... comparable, if

necessary, to that which produced the first atomic weapon." 77 Meanwhile, across the country at the University of California, Berkeley, Radiation Laboratory director

Ernest 0. Lawrence and his colleagues, physicist Luis

Alvarez and chemist Wendell C. Latimer, anxious to keep

America ahead in the technological arms race, had already decided to lobby Washington for an accelerated superbomb program. When Lawrence and Alvarez met with Senator

MacMahon on October 10, they warned him that the lack of fissionable raw materials in Russia that had been expected to delay the development of an atomic bomb might actually have encouraged the Soviets to begin work on a superbomb much earlier than the United States. As a result, they feared that the Soviet Union might be ahead in the race to develop thermonuclear weapons. 78

At the Commission’s request, Oppenheimer convened a 133

special meeting of the GAC at the end of October to consider

"what further things" the AEC might do to promote "the

common defense and security." 79 With regard to the

superbomb, the Commission wanted to know whether such a weapon should be developed, how it might be used, and what

its military worth would be in relation to fission weapons.

In order to provide the committee with the relevant

technical, political, and military background, Oppenheimer arranged for presentations by physicists Hans Bethe and

Robert Serber, State Department Counselor and former

Ambassador to the Soviet Union George F. Kennan, and the

Joint Chiefs of Staff. Over the course of three days, the

GAC gradually reached a consensus that the AEC should not

0 ft undertake an all-out effort to develop the superbomb.

The GAC members delineated several reasons for their opposition. They questioned the technical feasibility of

Teller’s "classical super," noting that few significant advances had been made since Teller’s original 1942 idea.

The committee pessimistically reported that "an imaginative and concerted attack on the problem" would only have a

"better than even" chance of rendering a weapon within five years. The GAC also noted that if a thermonuclear weapon should prove to be feasible, its destructive power would be several hundred times greater than that of existing fission bombs, raising questions about its military utility.

Significantly, JCS Chairman Omar N. Bradley had informed the 134

GAC that there was not yet a military requirement for such a

weapon, and that its chief value would be "psychological."

Finally, given the uncertainty over the superbomb’s actual

configuration, the committee was unable to determine whether

the H-bomb would be cheaper or more expensive than fission 0| weapons on a "damage area per dollar" basis.

Somewhat surprisingly, the GAC made its strongest case

against the superbomb on moral and ethical grounds. Led by

Conant, who had already informed Oppenheimer that the H-Bomb

would be built "over my dead body," the committee emphasized

that the thermonuclear weapon would be "in a totally

different category from an atomic bomb." Its tremendous

yield, coupled with the danger of radioactive contamination,

meant that it "might become a weapon of genocide."

Developing this "evil thing" would therefore have an adverse

effect on world opinion, and its use in wartime might

threaten humanity as a whole. In an abrupt reversal of its

earlier support for continuing thermonuclear research, the

committee concluded that the United States should provide a moral example to the world by renouncing the superbomb. If

the Soviet Union then proceeded with its own thermonuclear

program, the United States already had an adequate stockpile

of fission bombs for purposes of deterrence or military retaliation. 82

While the GAC members all agreed that the superbomb

should not be developed, they differed over the nature of 135 the weapon’s renunciation. Conant, Oppenheimer, and the majority favored unilateral action. Rabi and Fermi, however, doubted that such a stance would be politically

feasible, and they also felt that the superbomb would be built regardless of the GAC*s recommendations. In a separate minority statement, they recommended a conditional renunciation of the H-bomb. They called on President Truman to "invite the nations of the world to join us in a solemn pledge not to proceed in the development or construction" of thermonuclear weapons. If the Soviet Union refused to comply, then the United States could proceed with its own program with a clear conscience. Should the Soviets accept, the agreement could easily be policed using the existing

Long Range Detection Program because a superbomb could not be developed without testing. If the Russians violated the agreement, the United States might actually benefit from an analysis of the fallout, and there would still be an adequate stockpile of atomic bombs with which to threaten military retaliation. 83

Although AEC chairman David Lilienthal sent the GAC’s recommendations to Truman with his personal endorsement, the emerging superbomb lobby quickly counterattacked. Senator

McMahon and Commissioner Strauss forcefully refuted the

GAC’s argument that thermonuclear weapons were somehow immoral, claiming that there was "no moral dividing line" between "a big explosion which causes heavy damage and many 136 smaller [nuclear] explosions causing equal or still greater

at damage." Warfare, rather than the superbomb, was immoral. Moreover, unilateral renunciation of the weapon smacked of "appeasement" and would actually harm America’s standing in the eyes of the world. Until the international situation improved and disarmament became universal, the

United States had to be "as completely armed as any possible enemy." In other words, the United States had a moral obligation to pursue an "all-out effort" to develop the hydrogen bomb.^

Truman's military advisers similarly rejected the GAC’s moral arguments. The JCS declared that unilateral renunciation of the superbomb would be "foolhardy altruism," and that allowing the Soviet Union a thermonuclear monopoly would be "intolerable." Rejecting the notion that the H- bomb would be a weapon of genocide, the Chiefs somewhat disingenuously claimed that they would only attack "such targets as are necessary in war in order to impose the national objectives of the United States upon the enemy."

The superbomb would therefore increase national security as

"a potential offensive weapon, a possible deterrent to war, a potential retaliatory weapon, as well as a defensive weapon against enemy forces." Unlike Strauss, McMahon, and the superbomb scientists, however, the JCS acknowledged that an all-out effort to develop thermonuclear weapons would be premature and might have an adverse effect on the production 137 and refinement of fission weapons. They therefore

recommended that research into the technical feasibility of a thermonuclear explosion recieve "top priority," but that flg any decision on quantity production be deferred.

Truman observed that the Joint Chiefs’ ideas "made a lot of sense," and Secretary of State Acheson and Secretary of Defense Johnson apparently agreed. As two of the three members of the special NSC committee appointed to advise

Truman on the thermonuclear program, they closely followed the JCS line in recommending that the president direct the

AEC "to proceed to determine the technical feasibility of a thermonuclear weapon." They also specifically rejected the

Rabi-Fermi proposal for an uninspected international agreement to renounce thermonuclear development, noting that it contradicted the previous American position in United

Nations disarmament negotiations that international control of atomic energy must include adequate safeguards against possible violations. Although Lilienthal, the third member of the committee, still championed the GAC’s position,

Truman approved the majority opinion. On January 31, 1950, he publicly announced that he had directed the AEC to continue its work on the hydrogen bomb. 87

No sooner had Truman made his announcement than he immediately faced increased pressure from the H-bomb lobby for an all-out effort to develop thermonuclear weapons. On

February 1, Truman learned of the arrest of German-born 138

British scientist Klaus Fuchs on atomic espionage charges.

As a member of the British wartime delegation to Los Alamos,

Fuchs had passed on information about the plutonium

implosion bomb to the Soviet Union. More importantly, he had attended the 1946 Los Alamos conference on the superbomb. Despite Oppenheimer’s assurance that the limited information available to Fuchs would have been worthless,

Strauss, FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover, and the AEC ’ s

Military Liaison Committee all asserted that the case reinforced the Berkeley scientists’ contention that the

Soviet Union was probably ahead in the superbomb race. In the light of this new information, the JCS and Secretary of

Defense Johnson now joined the chorus in favor of "all-out development of hydrogen bombs and means for their production and delivery," even if it meant disrupting the production of fission weapons. The WSEG’s pessimistic assessment of a strategic bombing offensive using atomic weapons, officially completed a few days earlier, probably reinforced the Joint

Chiefs’ modified views on the importance of H-bombs. On

March 10, under intense pressure from the JCAE, the pro-bomb scientists, and his top military and political advisers,

Truman secretly approved acceleration of the thermonuclear program, including preparations for quantity production of weapons.88

The hydrogen bomb debate clearly revealed the limitations of technical advice at the top levels of 139

government. Truman decided for an all-out development

program largely out of political considerations, ignoring

the GAC’s technical reservations about Teller’s "classical

super" and instead accepting the more optimistic predictions

of the H-bomb lobby. Shortly after his decision, however, calculations by Fermi and mathematician Stanislas Ulam cast

serious doubt on the feasibility of Teller’s concept,

justifying the GAC’s original skepticism. For several

months, Teller struggled frantically to save the hydrogen

bomb project and his own reputation. In the spring of 1951,

he and Ulam hit upon an entirely new concept, "radiation

implosion." Oppenheimer called the new idea "technically

sweet." Suddenly, the hydrogen bomb had become a

theoretical possibility, and the lingering technical

objections to its development within the GAC melted away.

Without this theoretical breakthrough, however, Truman’s

politically motivated decision might have seriously impaired

QQ the fission weapons program for no real purpose.

The superbomb episode also revealed a growing rift

within the upper echelons of the scientific community over

national security issues. Teller, Lawrence, Alvarez,

Latimer and other "missionaries" for the H-bomb tended to

share the outlook of Truman’s top military and political

advisers. They rejected the notion that scientists had a

moral responsibility not to pursue certain kinds of knowledge. It was the scientists’ job to find ways in which 140

the laws of nature could be made to serve the human will.

Only the American people and their representatives had the

right to decide whether a weapon should be built and how it

might be used. Moreover, as devout anticommunists,

Lawrence, Teller and the others felt that it would be

unconscionable to allow the Soviet Union to gain a

technological lead in the arms race. Until the Cold War

ended and the Soviet Union opened its society, arms control measures would be of dubious value. Consequently, Western

security in the forseeable future would be dependent on the

United States maintaining its scientific and industrial advantage.90

Oppenheimer, Conant, Bush, and most of the GAC shared a somewhat different view. They felt that scientists, by virtue of their technical expertise, did have a unique moral responsibility to humanity, particularly with regard to the

introduction of a wholly new category of weapons of mass destruction. They also worried that the United States had adopted a military posture based on air-atomic power by default, that the value of strategic airpower had been overestimated, and that the advent of thermonuclear weapons would further distort American defense planning. Instead,

Oppenheimer and Conant advocated a more balanced defense program. Fission weapons should be further refined and made available to the Army and Navy for tactical roles in the defense of Western Europe, antisubmarine warfare, and 141

continental air defense. Economic and military assistance

programs to NATO allies should be stepped up. American

conventional forces in Europe should be enlarged to help

offset the Soviet Union's manpower advantage. Finally, the

United States should continue to seek verifiable arms control agreements with the Soviet Union, both as a means of

curtailing the arms race and of legitimizing the containment

program to the American people. Conant believed that if a

balanced policy could be maintained over the long haul, by

1980 the "absurdities" of the Soviet Union's "static slave

society" would result in its internal collapse and possibly

the balkanization of the Soviet empire. 91

As work on the hydrogen bomb continued, Oppenheimer

and Bush made one last, futile effort to delay the dawn of a

new era of mass destruction. In 1952, as members of the

State Department's Panel of Consultants on Disarmament, they called for the postponement of the first thermonuclear test, scheduled for November. In effect, they revived the Rabi-

Fermi proposal for a thermonuclear test moratorium. A successful test, they noted, would be detected by the Soviet

Union and would probably assist their thermonuclear program by revealing the Teller-Ulam principle. Moreover, the advent of hydrogen bombs would work to the relative military advantage of the Soviet Union because the West offered more strategic targets suitable for thermonuclear attack than the

Soviet Union. By postponing the test and offering an 142

uninspected moratorium, however, the United States could

delay a qualitative jump in the arms race, test the

intentions of the Soviet regime with respect to arms

control, and win the admiration and respect of the world.

Delaying the test until 1953 would also give the incoming

administration a free hand to reevaluate the thermonuclear

program. Although Truman and Acheson briefly considered

delaying the test until after election day, the President

ultimately accepted the AEC's argument that any postponement

might adversely affect the entire thermonuclear program. The

Mike shot went ahead as planned on November 1, 1952. 92

The hydrogen bomb debate not only revealed sharp differences among the scientific community over national

security policy and the responsibilities of scientists, but

it also generated bitter personal feuds that would scar the community for a decade. In April, 1950, for example,

Wendell C. Latimer instigated an unprecedented floor fight at the National Academy of Sciences to prevent Conant’s election to the presidency by nominating Detlev W. Bronk, president of Johns Hopkins University. Significantly, the chemists who led the revolt, such as Harold C. Urey and

Kenneth S. Pitzer, were all strong advocates of the superbomb. The H-bomb lobby of scientists also launched a campaign to purge the GAC of Oppenheimer and his allies, the

"Oppie machine" as Teller called them. Latimer, Pitzer, and

Urey all wrote to Truman urging him not to reappoint 143

Oppenheimer, Conant, and Lee A. DuBridge when their terras expired in 1952, and the president agreed. Most serious of all, however, members of the H-bomb lobby began to cast doubt on the motivation and loyalty of Oppenheimer. This destructive intramural conflict would eventually be played out to its tragic conclusion during the Eisenhower administration.93

***

Although the integration of science and technology into the national security state proceeded apace after World War

II, with scientists assuming advisory positions in various government agencies and the armed services, the White House remained insulated from independent science advice until

1951. Several proposals for a presidential science adviser circulated in the 1940s, but only the outbreak of the Korean

War in June, 1950, added a sense of urgency to the idea.

After reviewing the federal government’s scientific research structure, the Bureau of the Budget recommended the appointment of a prominent scientist as the president’s personal science adviser. Bureaucratic infighting, however, watered down the proposal. President Truman eventually established a Science Advisory Committee in the Office of

Defense Mobilization, but it languished in relative obscurity until the end of his administration. Truman never called on the scientists for advice, and the committee itself suffered from ineffectual leadership. By November, 144

1952, having made no significant contributions to national policy, the frustrated committee members considered disbanding their moribund group.

Immediately after World War II, Vannevar Bush continued his wartime role as de^ facto science adviser to the president, but within a few years his influence diminished.

His initial support for the War Department’s atomic energy bill and then his energetic advocacy of a science foundation insulated from political control pitted him against the administration he was supposed to serve, and Truman began to turn elsewhere for science advice. When the president wanted a review of postwar science, for example, he selected his trusted adviser John Steelman, an economist, to conduct the project. In addition to political differences with the president, Bush apparently also encountered Truman’s personal scorn for an obscure dispute over awards to scientists for wartime contributions to research. By 1947,

Bush felt so ineffective that when Secretary of Defense

James V. Forrestal asked him to serve as chair of the reorganized Research and Development Board, he initially refused on the grounds that Truman had lost confidence in him. Only a personal reassurance from the president persuaded Bush to take the job, but he continued to feel powerless. After developing severe psychosomatic headaches,

Bush resigned the next year and quickly recovered his health. With Bush’s departure, no prominent scientist had 145

access to the White House inner circle. Significantly, when

Truman acted on the Steelman Report’s recommendation that a

scientific liaison be established in the White House, he

again designated Steelman for the task. 94

The dramatic increase in the defense research and development budget precipitated by the outbreak of the

Korean War, coupled with the impending activation of the

National Science Foundation, prompted Budget Director Frank

J. Lawton to suggest a review of "the organization of the

government for scientific research activities generally

during the emergency period." Lawton was particularly

alarmed at the spiralling military budget and Truman’s

reliance on the Defense Department for technical advice. In

October, 1950, he selected William T. Golden, an investment

banker in New York City who had previously served as an

assistant to Atomic Energy Commissioner Strauss, to conduct

the study. Over the next few weeks, Golden personally

interviewed dozens of scientists in government, industry,

and the universities, as well as military officers,

soliciting their views on military research and

development.95

In addition to personal interviews, Golden also waded

through numerous formal proposals for mobilizing science

more effectively. House Majority Leader John MacCormack (D-

MA) wanted all military research and development to be centralized under civilian control. The Research and 146

Development Board’s Committee on Plans for Mobilizing

Science, originally established by Bush in 1948 to prepare contingency plans in the event of a national emergency, likewise recommended the creation of an independent emergency civilian agency reporting directly to the president, reminiscent of OSRD in World War II. In addition, the committee advocated a "presidential scientific planning adviser" in the White House. Meanwhile, another special RDB committee, chaired by James R. Killian, Jr.,

Compton’s recent successor as president of MIT, was already reviewing the RDB’s. overall program. Killian’s wartime role as cte facto president of the Institute during Compton’s prolonged absence, and his postwar efforts to secure MIT a leading position in defense research and military technology made him an ideal candidate for the job. The Killian committee similarly recommended "a position in the Executive

Department for an individual who would be the sort of rallying point for the scientists and who would have access to the President."^

Golden submitted his findings to the president in

December. He noted that military research and development was already adequately funded by the services, and therefore recommended against the creation of a new OSRD-type agency.

Like many of his informants, however, Golden felt that civilian scientific expertise needed to play a larger role in addressing the problems of national defense. He 147

therefore urged the president to appoint a prominent

scientist as his full-time, personal science adviser. The

appointee would keep himself informed of all the

government’s scientific research of military value, would

plan for the initiation of a new OSRD in the event of a

major war, and would give the president "independent and

comprehensive advice on scientific matters inside and

outside the government, particularly those of military

significance." If necessary, the adviser might be supported

by "a small advisory committee of scientific specialists."

Golden, no doubt aware of the GAC’s frustration over the H-

bomb episode, noted that the creation of a presidential

science adviser would be "very favorably received in the

scientific community." 97

Golden’s proposal immediately encountered opposition

from several sources. Bush, Conant, and Oppenheimer, until

now the three scientists most intimately involved in

national security problems, welcomed the idea of science

advice in the White House but expressed skepticism that any

one individual could perform the function adequately. A

majority of the National Science Foundation’s National

Science Board (NSB), anxious to secure maximum funding for

their infant agency, worried that a presidential science adviser and supporting committee might impinge on the

foundation’s mission to promote research "to secure the national defense." Only after strenuous efforts by fellow 148

board members Detlev Bronk, Conant and DuBridge did the NSB

agree to stay out of applied military research and to accept

a presidential science adviser. Finally, and most

seriously, General Lucius D. Clay, assistant director of the

Office of Defense Mobilization (ODM), insisted that any science adviser charged with contingency planning should be

located in ODM.^

In the face of these criticisms, the Golden plan underwent significant modification. In April, 1951, instead of naming a presidential science adviser, Truman established the Science Advisory Committee of the Office of Defense

Mobilization (SAC-ODM). He charged the committee with providing "independent advice" both to the director of ODM and to himself on scientific matters of military significance. Golden initially thought Oppenheimer should chair the group, but the ongoing H-bomb controversy soon scotched that idea. His next two choices, Caltech president

DuBridge and Bell Labs president Mervin Kelly, both declined the post. Finally, at the suggestion of AT&T, Oliver E.

Buckley, the retiring president of Bell Labs and a Manhattan project veteran, assumed the chair. The rest of the group comprised ten leading scientists and administrators from government, industry, and academia, including Oppenheimer,

Conant, DuBridge, Killian, Bronk, and the newly-appointed

Director of the NSF, Alan T. Waterman. Collectively, the committee represented considerable experience in the affairs 149 of science and national security. 99

Despite SAC-ODM’s distinguished membership list, the

committee achieved little in its first year of existence.

The sixty-five-year-old Buckley, a self-effacing man by

nature, had recently been diagnosed with Parkinson’s

disease, and proved unequal to the task of providing dynamic

leadership. From the outset, his statement of "proposed

principles" for the committee revealed that he envisioned an

essentially passive role for SAC-ODM. The group should be

"advisory, not operating," should work informally through existing agencies, and should "avoid fanfare and minimize public appearances." Significantly, Buckley reported that

Truman was "particularly pleased" with the last point.

Indeed, although the president promised that he would call on SAC-ODM for advice "from time to time," he never did.

Meeting approximately once every month, the committee did little more than serve as a forum for wide-ranging discussions on science and national security. In its first annual report to Truman, SAC-ODM commented on the difficulties of recruiting top-flight scientists for government research, noted that the universities best served the national interest by training scientists and advancing knowledge, but made no specific policy recommendations.

Truman responded cryptically that he had read the report

"with a lot of interest."^® 150

When Buckley resigned as chair for medical reasons in

May, 1952, his replacement, DuBridge, energized the committee. Although his Caltech duties necessitated that he serve on a part-time basis, DuBridge led his colleagues in vigorous debates over how the effectiveness of defense science might be improved and how science might be integrated into policymaking. Specifically, the members addressed the future of SAC-ODM. All agreed that the committee provided a "useful deliberative group," but that

ODM was not a suitable home. Instead, they decided to seek a closer relation to the president, possibly as an adjunct to the National Security Council. When these suggestions failed to elicit any support from the Truman administration, several members of the committee seriously considered disbanding SAC-ODM altogether. During a special three-day meeting at Princeton in November, the committee ultimately agreed to postpone such drastic action and offer its services to the incoming Eisenhower administration in the hope that the new president might make better use of its advice.

***

By 1952, the Bush model of government-science relations had been only partially fulfilled. True, in the postwar years, the federal government greatly expanded its support for scientific research, and scientists began to assume important advisory and policymaking roles. Nevertheless, 151 under the impact of the Cold War, Bush’s original plan became distorted. While civilian scientists served on such bodies as the Research and Development Board, the Weapons

Systems Evaluation Group, the General Advisory Committee, and the Science Advisory Committee of the Office of Defenes Moilization, they proved to be singularly unsuccessful in asserting an independent voice in policymaking. At the end of Truman’s term, the frustrated members of SAC-ODM only narrowly agreed to preserve their group in the hope that this state of affairs might change with the advent of a new administration. 152

1. See Vannevar Bush, Science — The Endless Frontier: A Report to the President by Vannevar Bush. Director, OSRD. July. 1945 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1945); idem, Modern Arms and Free Men: A Discussion of the Role of Science in Preserving Democracy (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1949), 250-61; and A. Hunter Dupree, "National Security and the Post-War Science Establishment in the Unites States," Nature 323 (18 September 1986): 213-16.

2. Martin J. Sherwin, A World Destroyed: The Atomic Bomb and the Grand Alliance (New York: Vintage Books, 1977), 90-114; Alice Kimball Smith, A Peril and a Hope: The Scientists* Movement in America, 1945-47, revised edition (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1970), 5-11; Richard G. Hewlett and Oscar E. Anderson, Jr., The New World, 1939-1946: A History of the United States Atomic Energy Commission, vol. 1 (University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press, 1962), 326, 344; Robert Gilpin, American Scientists and Nuclear Wepons Policy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1962), 42-44.

3. Spencer R. Weart and Gertrud Weiss Szilard, eds., Leo Szilard: His Version of the Facts (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1978), 181-86; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 342; Smith, A Peril and a Hope, 27-30. Szilard’s memoranda for Roosevelt and Truman are reprinted in Weart and Szilard, eds., Leo Szilard. 196-207.

4. Weart and Szilard, eds., Leo Szilard. 182-85; Sherwin, A World Destroyed, 200-02; James F. Byrnes, All in One Lifetime (New York: Harper and Brothers, 1958), 284.

5. Weart and Szilard, eds., Leo Szilard. 186; Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 30-31, 41—42; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 365-66. The other members of the Franck committee were Donald A. Hughes, James J. Nickson, Eugene Rabinowitch, Glenn T. Seaborg, Joyce C. Stearns, and Leo Szilard.

6. The Franck Report is reprinted in Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 371-83.

7. Ibid., 382.

8. A Petition to the President of the United States, July 17, 1945, in Weart and Szilard, eds., Leo Szilard. 211- 12.

9. Szilard to Ed Creutz, July 10, 1945, ibid., 212-13. 153

10. Recommendations on the Immediate Use of Nuclear Weapons, June 16, 1945, in Sherwin, A World Destroyed, 304- 05. The evolving views of the Science Advisory Panel members on nuclear weapons are treated at length in Barton J. Bernstein, "Four Physicists and the Bomb: The Early Years, 1945-1950," Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 18 (1988): 231-63.

11. Teller to Szilard, July 2, 1945, in Weart and Szilard, eds., Leo Szilard. 208-09. Teller later claimed that he sympathized with the intent of Szilard’s petition but had refused to circulate it because Oppenheimer convinced him that the President was already receiving competent advice through the Interim Committee and its Scientific Advisory Panel. The letter cited above seems to contradict Teller’s later assertion. See Edward Teller and Allen Brown, The Legacy of Hiroshima (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1962), 13-14.

12. Recommendations on the Immediate Use of Nuclear Weapons, June 16, 1945, in Sherwin, A World Destroyed, 304- OS.

13. Arthur Holly Compton, Atomic Quest: A Personal Narrative (New York: Oxford University Press, 1956), 238- 40; Harry S. Truman, Memoirs, vol. 1: Year of Decisions (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1955), 416; Bernstein, "Four Physicists and the Bomb," 234-38; Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 48-53 .

14. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 1 (10 December 1945): 1; Bernstein, "Four Physicists and the Bomb," 246-51; Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 90-122; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 445-46.

15. Truman, Memoirs 1:530-33; Smith, A Peril and a Hope, 128-29.

16. Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 411-13, 428- 29; Smith A Peril and a Hope. 129-31; Daniel J. Kevles, The Physicists: The History of a Scientific Community in Modern America 2d edition (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1987), 349.

17. Weart and Szilard, Leo Szilard. 224-27; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 237, 431-32; Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 130-31, 137.

18. Patterson cited in Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 134- 35. 154

19. Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 135-36; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 408-15.

20. U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Military Affairs, Atomic Energy. Hearings, 79th Cong., 1st sess., 1945, 35-39, 51-52 [hereafter cited as House, Atomic Energy Hearings 1; James B. Conant, My Several Lives: Memoirs of a Social Inventor (New York: Harper and Row, 1970), 495-96.

21. House, Atomic Energy Hearings. 106-07.

22. During Senate hearings on the National Science Foundation bills on October 17, Oppenheimer remarked, "The Johnson Bill, I don’t know much about." See U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on War Mobilization of the Committee on Military Affairs, Hearings on Science Legislation, 79th Cong., 1st sess., 1945, 306.

23. Anderson to William A. Higinbotham, October 11, 1945, cited in Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 140. Anderson, like many rank-and-file scientists, particularly opposed the bill’s security restrictions. His own 1939 Ph.D. dissertation on nuclear fission had been classified. See House, Atomic Energy Hearings. 100.

24. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 1 (24 December 1945): 5; Smith, A Peril and a Hope, 236-37; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 446-48.

25. Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 436-39; Kevles, The Physicists, 350.

26. Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 449-55; Kevles, The Physicists. 351; Gregg Herken, The Winning Weapon: The Atomic Bomb in the Cold War. 1945-1950 (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1980), 120-24.

27. Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 454-55, 482- 83. For the text of the bill, see U.S., Congress, Senate, Special Committee on Atomic Energy, Atomic Energy Act of 1946. Hearings. 79th Cong., 2d sess., 1946, 1-9, [hereafter cited as Senate, Atomic Energy Hearings).

28. Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 1 (1 February 1946): 1; Harry S. Truman, Memoirs. vol. 2: Years of Trial and Hope (New York: Doubleday, 1956), 2-5; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 483-84, 489-91.

29. In addition to McMahon, the Senate Special Committee included Edwin C. Johnson (D-CO), Richard B. Russell (D-GA), Tom Connally (D-TX), Harry F. Byrd (D-VA), Millard E. Tydings (D-MD), Arthur H. Vandenberg (R-MI), 155

Warren R. Austin (R-VT), Eugene D. Millikin (R-CO), Bourke B. Hickenlooper (R-IO), and Thomas C. Hart (R-CT).

30. For the testimony of Secretary of the Navy James V. Forrestal, Patterson and Groves in support of military participation, see Senate, Atomic Energy Hearings, 73-79, 389-409, and 467-96 respectively. See also Eisenhower to Patterson, June 4, 1946, in Louis P. Galambos, ed., The Papers of Dwight David Eisenhower, vol. 7: The Chief of Staff (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978), 1101-02, [hereafter cited as Eisenhower Papers!: Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 1 (15 March 1946): 1; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 488, 500-13; and Smith, A Peril and a Hope, 312-18.

31. Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 501, 512-15; Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 312-18; Herken, The Winning Weapon. 125-36, 147-48. The latter probably overemphasizes the impact of the Canadian spy ring on the final form of the McMahon Bill by underestimating the strength of conservative sentiment in the Senate Special Committee and the House.

32. U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Military Affairs, Atomic Energy. Hearings, 79th Cong., 2d sess., 1946, 46-47; Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 2 (1 July 1946): 23; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 516-30; Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 318-22.

33. House, Atomic Energy Hearings. 2.

34. Smith, A Peril and a Hope, 257; Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 1 (10 January 1946): 2.

35. Conant, My Several Lives. 491-92; Dean G. Acheson, Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department (New York: Norton, 1969), 151-52; Truman, Memoirs 2:5-6; David E. Lilienthal, The Journals of David E. Lilienthal, vol. 2: The Atomic Energy Years, 1945-1950 (New York: Harper and Row, 1964), 10-15.

36. Oppenheimer to Lilienthal, February 2, 1946, excerpted in U.S., Atomic Energy Commission, In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer: Transcript of Hearing Before the Personnel Security Board and Texts of Principal Letters and Documents (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1971), 37-38, [hereafter cited as AEC, Oppenheimer Hearing]; Oppenheimer, "The International Control of Atomic Energy," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 1 (1 June 1946): 1-5; Lilienthal, Journals 2:27; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 536-38; Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 331-33; McGeorge Bundy, Danger and Survival: Choices About the Bomb in the First Fifty Years (New York: Random House, 1988), 158-60. 156

37. U.S., Department of State, Committee on Atomic Energy, A Report on the International Control of Atomic Energy (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1946), xii; Conant, My Several Lives. 492-93; Acheson, Present at the Creation. 153; Lilienthal, Journals 2:27-30; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 540-54.

38. Lilienthal, Journals. 2:30, 59; Acheson, Present at the Creation. 154; Hewlett and Anderson, The New World, 554-58.

39. Baruch’s team consisted of Herbert Bayard Swope, a journalist and public relations expert who had assisted Baruch on the War Industries Board in World War One; banker John M. Hancock; mining engineer Fred Searls, Jr.; and Ferdinand Eberstadt, an investment banker and former aide to Secretary of the Navy James V. Forrestal.

40. The full text of Baruch’s speech is in U.S., Department of State, The International Control of Atomic Energy: Growth of a Policy (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1946), 138-47. The transformation of the Acheson-Lilienthal Report into the Baruch Plan is best described in Herken, The Winning Weapon. 160-70; and Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 562-79. For an account more sympathetic to Baruch’s concerns, see Bundy, Danger and Survival. 161-66.

41. Hewlett and Anderson, The New World. 580-92; Herken, The Winning Weapon. 172-77; Smith, A Peril and a Hope. 337-40.

42. Eisenhower to Baruch, June 14, 1946, Eisenhower Papers 7:1125-28; Herken, The Winning Weapon. 171-72.

43. The Soviet position is carefully analyzed in Bundy, Danger and Survival. 176-84. See also David Holloway, The Soviet Union and the Arms Race (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1983), and "Entering the Nuclear Arms Race: The Soviet Decision to Build the Atomic Bomb, 1939- 45" Social Studies of Science 11 (1981): 159-97; and Joseph L. Nogee, Soviet Policy Towards International Control of Atomic Energy (Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, 1961).

44. J. Merton England, A Patron for Pure Science: The National Science Foundation’s Formative Years. 1945-57 (Washington, D.C.: National Science Foundation, 1982), 26; Daniel J. Kevles, "The National Science Foundation and the Debate over Postwar Research Policy, 1942-1945: A Political Interpretation of Science — The Endless Frontier," Isis 68 (March 1977 ) : 5-26. 157

45. The Kilgore and Magnuson bills are summarized in U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee on War Mobilization of the Committee on Military Affairs, Hearings on Science Legislation. 79th Cong., 1st sess., 1945, 2-8, [hereafter cited as Senate, Hearings on Science Legislation].

46. Senate, Hearings on Science Legislation. 10-24, 25-40, 199-227, 228-31; 826-27, 982; Science 102 (30 November 1945): 545-48; England, A Patron for Pure Science. 36-37; Carl M. Rowan, "Politics and Pure Research: The Origins of the National Science Foundation, 1942-1954," (Ph.D. dissertation, Miami University, 1985), 55-57, 86-89.

47. Senate, Hearings on Science Legislation, 52-66, 91-93, 786-87, 967-68, 1013-20; Science 104 (4 January 1946): 11; England, A Patron for Pure Science. 28-39; Rowan, "Politics and Pure Research," 86-90.

48. England, A Patron for Pure Science, 42-43; Howard A. Meyerhoff, "S. 1720 vs. S. 1777," Science 103 (8 February 1946): 161-62.

49. Special Message to Congress Presenting a 21-Point Program for the Reconversion Period, September 6, 1945, Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: Harry S Truman. 1945 (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1962), 292-94; Senate, Hearings on Science Legislation. 98-104; England, A Patron for Pure Science, 26- 27, 30-31.

50. Meyerhoff, "The National Science Foundation: S. 1850, Final Senate Bill," Science 103 (1 March 1946): 270- 73; idem, "The Senate and S. 1850," Science 103 (10 May 1946): 589-90; Committee Supporting the Bush Report, "Statement Concerning S. 1850," Science 103 (3 May 1946): 558; England, A Patron for Pure Science. 40-43, 45-47; Kevles, "The National Science Foundation," 24-25.

51. Meyerhoff, "Obituary: National Science Foundation," Science 104 (2 August 1946): 97; U.S., Congress, House, Subcommittee on Public Health of the Interstate and Foreign Commerce Committee, Hearings on H.R. 6448. 79th Cong., 2d sess., 1946, 50; U.S., Congress, Senate, Congressional Record, 79th Congress, 2d. sess., July 3, 1946, 8208-16, 8218-28, 8230-42; England, A Patron for Pure Science. 48-59.

52. England, A Patron for Pure Science. 61-80.

53. Truman, Memoirs 1:330; Bush, Pieces of the Action, 65; James L. Penick, Jr., et al., The Politics of American Science: 1939 to the Present, revised edition (Cambridge, 158

M A : MIT Press, 1972); England, A Patron for Pure Science, 80-82.

54. James R. Steelman, Science and Public Policy, vol. 1: A Program for the Nation (Washington, D.C.: Government Printing Office, 1947), 31-34; Bush, Pieces of the Action, 303; England, A Patron for Pure Science, 62-63, 86-87.

55. Dael Wolfle, "A National Science Foundation: 1950 Prospects," Science 111 (27 January 1950): 79-81; England, A Patron for Pure Science, 90-106.

56. National Science Foundation Act, 64 Stat. 149-57 (1950) .

57. For discussions of postawr military research and development, see Herbert F. York and G. Allen Greb, "Military Research and Development: A Postwar History," in Thomas J. Kuehn and Allan L. Porter, eds., Science. Technology, and National Policy (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1981), 190-215; Daniel J. Kevles, "Cold War and Hot Physics: Science, Security, and the American State, 1945-56," Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 20 (1990): 239-64; S. S. Schweber, "The Mutual Embrace of Science and the Military: ONR and the Growth of Physics in the United States after World War II," and Paul K. Hoch, "The Crystallization of a Strategic Alliance: the American Physics Elite and the Military in the 1940s," both in Everett Mendelsohn, Merritt Roe Smith, and Peter Weingart, eds., Science. Technology, and the Military (Dordrecht, the Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1988), 3-45 and 87-116 respectively; and Harvey M. Sapolsky, "Academic Science and the Military: The Years Since the Second World War," in Nathan S. Reingold, ed., The Sciences in the American Context: New Perspectives (Washington, DC: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1979, 379- 99.

58. U.S., Congress, House, Select Committee on Postwar Military Policy, Hearings, Surplus Material — Research and Development. 78th Cong., 2d sess., 1944-45, 135-38, 239, [hereafter House, Surplus Material Hearings]; Daniel J. Kevles, "Scientists, the Military, and the Control of Postwar Defense Research: The Case of the Research Board for National Security, 1944-46," Technology and Culture 16 (January 1975): 20-24.

59. House, Surplus Material Hearings, 135-38, 159-61, 248-49; Kevles, "Research Board for National Security," 24- 31 . 159

60. Bush, Science — The Endless Frontier, 27-29; Kevles, "Research Board for National Security," 35-44.

61. House, Surplus Material Hearings. 239, 248; U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Military Affairs, Hearings, Research and Development, 79th Cong., 1st sess., 1945, 5-7.

62. Bush, Science — The Endless Frontier. 27-29.

63. House, Surplus Material Hearings, 179; U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Naval Affairs, Hearings on H. R. 5911. to Establish an Office of Naval Research in the Department of the Navy. 79th Cong., 2d sess., 1946, 2821-22, [hereafter House, ONR Hearings!; The Bird Dogs, "The Evolution of the Office of Naval Research," Physics Today 14 (August 1961): 30-35.

64. Senate, Hearings on Science Legislation. 275-76; Schweber, "Mutual Embrace of Science and the Military," 17- 27; Kevles, The Physicists, 353-56, 363-64.

65. Eisenhower to Directors and Chiefs of War Department, April 30, 1946, Eisenhower Papers 7:1046-49.

66. Eisenhower to Thomas T. Handy, April 12, 1946, ibid., 1000; Eisenhower to Harold D. Smith, April 16, 1946, ibid., 1004-7; Eisenhower to Robert P. Patterson, April 27, 1946, ibid., 1045-46; Kevles, "Cold War and Hot Physics," 242; Schweber, "Mutual Embrace of Science and the Military," 41, n. 38; England, A Patron for Pure Science. 86; Clayton R. Koppes, JPL and the American Space Program: A History of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1982), 18-34.

67. Eisenhower to Joint Chiefs of Staff, December 31, 1945, Eisenhower Papers 7:707-8.

68. House, Surplus Material Hearings, 241-42; Kevles, "Cold War and Hot Physics," 246; Steven L. Rearden, A History of the Office of the Secretary of Defense vol. 1: The Formative Years, 1947-1950 (Washington, DC: Office of the Secretary of Defense Historical Office, 1984), 96-97, [hereafter Rearden, Formative Years).

69. U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Government Operations, Research and Development (Office of the Secretary of Defense). House Report 2552, 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, 62-63, [hereafter House, Research and Development Report!; Don K. Price, Government and Science: Their Dynamic Relation in American Democracy (New York: New York University Press, 1954), 146-52; Rearden, Formative Years, 98-101; Kevles, The Physicists. 363, n. 8. 160

70. House, Research and Development Report. 63-64; Price, Government and Science, 129-31; Rearden, Formative Years, 100-1, 385-401; Jacob Neufeld, The Development of Ballistic Missiles in the United States Air Force (Washington, DC: United States Air Force Office of Air Force History, 1990), 50-56.

71. Rearden, Formative Years. 99, 401-2; Kevles, "Cold War and Hot Physics," 246; Philip M. Morse, In at the Beginnings: A Physicist's Life (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1977), 244-50.

72. U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Armed Services, Hearings on the National Defense Program -- Unification and Strategy. 81st Cong. 1st sess., 1949, 52, 259, 350-51, 451-58, 472-74, 515-41; Morse, In at the Beginnings. 251-52; Rearden, Formative Years, 410-22.

73. Morse, In at the Beginnings, 257-59; Rearden, Formative Years, 409-10; David A. Rosenberg, "American Atomic Strategy and the Hydrogen Bomb Decision," Journal of American History 66 (June 1979): 83-84.

74. Herbert F. York, The Advisors: Oppenheimer. Teller, and the Superbomb (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1989), 20-26, 164-69; Peter Galison and Barton J. Bernstein, "In any Light: Scientists and the Decision to Build the Superbomb, 1952-1954," Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 19 (1989): 270-80. See also the essay written by Hans A. Bethe, "Comments on the History of the H-Bomb," written in 1954 to refute the allegation that Oppenheimer had deliberately sabotaged the H-bomb project, and reprinted in York, The Advisors, 164-81.

75. AEC, Oppenheimer Hearing, 69.

76. Bethe, "Comments on the History of the H-Bomb," 167-69; Galison and Bernstein, "In any Light," 280-83; Bernstein, "Four Physicists and the Bomb," 251-53.

77. Lewis L. Strauss, Men and Decisions (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1962), 216-17.

78. AEC, Oppenheimer Hearing, 774-81; Galison and Bernstein, "In any Light," 284-88; Herbert Childs, An American Genius: The Life of Ernest Orlando Lawrence (New York: 1968), 384-420.

79. The distinguished GAC membership at this time consisted of Oppenheimer; James B. Conant, former NDRC chairman and president of Harvard; Enrico Fermi; Lee A. 161

DuBridge, wartime director of MIT’s Rad Lab and now president of Caltech; Isidor I. Rabi, another Rad Lab veteran and Nobel Prize-winning physicist from Columbia; Cyril S. Smith, a British-born metallurgist from Los Alamos; Glenn T. Seaborg, the discoverer of plutonium; Hartley Rowe, an engineer with the United Fruit Company; and Oliver E. Buckley, president of Bell Labs.

80. Hewlett and Duncan, Atomic Shield, 380-82; York, The Advisors, 46-48; Galison and Bernstein, "In any Light," 288-91 .

81. General Advisory Committee Report, October 30, 1949, reprinted in York, The Advisors. 153-62; Lilienthal, Journals 2:580-83. An abbreviated version of the GAC Report appears in U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, vol. 1; National Security Affairs; Foreign Economic Policy (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1976), 569-71.

82. York, The Advisors. 158-62; Lilienthal, Journals 2:580-82; AEC, Oppenheimer Hearing. 715; Galison and Bernstein, "In any Light," 289-93; Hewlett and Duncan, Atomic Shield. 383-85. Conant’s role in the debate and his moral concerns are fully examined in James G. Hershberg, "’Over My Dead Body,': James B. Conant and the Hydrogen Bomb," in Mendelsohn, Smith, and Weingart, eds., Science. Technology, and the Military, 379-430, especially 393-404.

83. York, The Advisors, 161-62; Bethe, "Comments on the History of the H-Bomb," 180.

84. McMahon to Truman, November 21, 1949, FRUS. 1949 1:588-95.

85. Strauss to Truman, November 25, 1949, FRUS. 1949 1:596-99.

86. Bradley to Secretary of Defense Johnson, November 23, 1949, FRUS. 1949 1:595-96; Karl T. Compton, Chairman RDB, to Truman, November 9, 1949, reprinted in Strauss, Men and Decisions. 440; Bradley to Johnson, January 13, 1950, FRUS. 1950 1:503-11.

87. Acheson memo of telephone conversation, January 19, 1950, FRUS. 1950 1:511-12; Report by the Special Committee of the NSC to Truman, January 31, 1950, ibid., 1:513-23; Lilienthal memo to Lay, February 15, 1950, ibid., 1:539-40; Acheson, Present at the Creation. 349; Lilienthal, Journals 2:623-33; Statement by the President on the Hydrogen Bomb, January 31, 1950, Public Papers of the Presidents: Harry S. Truman. 1950 (Washington, DC: 162

Government Printing Office, 1965), 138.

88. Johnson to Truman, February 24, 1950, FRUS. 1950 1:538-39; Report by the Special Committee of the NSC to Truman, March 9, 1950, ibid., 1:541-42; Hewlett and Duncan, Atomic Shield. 416 — 18; Bernstein, "In any Light," 310-12; Rosenberg, "American Atomic Strategy," 82-85.

89. Radiation implosion represented a radically new approach to a thermonuclear weapon. X-ray radiation from a fission explosion would transfer energy to the hydrogen isotopes and compress them. See AEC, Oppenheimer Hearing, 81; Bethe, "Comments on the History of the H-bomb," 171—73; William J. Broad, "Rewriting the History of the H-Bomb," Science 218 (19 November 1982): 769-72; Hewlett and Duncan, Atomic Shield. 529-31, 535-37, 542-45; Bernstein, "In any Light," 315-24.

90. For examples of this viewpoint, see Edward Teller, "Atomic Scientists have two Responsibilities," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 3 (December 1947): 355-56; idem, "Back to the Laboratories," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 6 (March 1950): 71-72; Harold C. Urey, "Should America Build the Bomb?" Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 6 (March 1950): 73-74; and Record of Meeting of the State-Defense Policy Review Group, March 20, 1950, FRUS. 1950 1:200-201. See also Gilpin, American Scientists and Nuclear Weapons Policy. 102-05.

91. For the Oppenheimer-Conant school of thought, see the Records of Meetings of State-Defense Policy Review Group, February 27, 1950, and March 2, 1950, FRUS. 1950 1:168-82; and GAC Report, October 31, 1949, in York, The Advisors, 155-62. See also Hershberg, "’Over My Dead Body,’" 396-407; Nathan S. Reingold, "Vannevar Bush’s New Deal for Research: or the Triumph of the Old Order," Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 17 (1987): 340-41; and David C. Elliot, "Project Vista and Nuclear Weapons in Europe," International Security 11 (Summer 1986): 163-83.

92. Minutes of the Meeting of the Panel of Consultants on Disarmament, May 6, 1952, FRUS. 1952-54 2:915-26; Ferguson to Acheson, September 2, 1952, ibid., 992-993; Memorandum by the Panel of Consultants on Disarmament, undated, ibid., 994-1008; Truman, Memoirs 2:313-14; Hewlett and Duncan, Atomic Shield. 590-92.

93. Hershberg, "’Over My Dead Body,'" 407-15; Bernstein, "In any Light," 324-28; Hewlett and Duncan, Atomic Shield. 518-20; Peter J. Goodchild, J. Robert Oppenheimer: Shatterer of Worlds (Boston, MA: Houghton 163

Mifflin, 1981), 252-53.

94. Bush, Pieces of the Action. 302-05; Walter Millis, ed., The Forrestal Diaries (New York: Viking Press, 1951), 319-20; Kevles, The Physicists, 362-66; England, A Patron for Pure Science, 86-87.

95. Lawton to Truman, October 19, 1950, reprinted in Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower: A Memoir of the First Special Assistant to the President for Science and Technology (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1977), 61-62; Detlev W. Bronk, "Science Advice in the White House: The Genesis of the President’s Science Advisers and the National Science Foundation," in William T. Golden, ed., Science Advice to the President (New York: Pergamon Press, 1980), 245-47; England, A Patron for Pure Science. 125-26.

96. Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 60- 61, 63; Report of the Committee on Plans for Mobilizing Science, December 30, 1949, Papers of the MIT President, Karl T. Compton and James R. Killian, Jr. [hereafter, Compton/Killian Papers], Box 212, folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Aug, 1951," Institute Archives and Special Collections, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, MA [hereafter, MIT]; Resume of Activities of the Science Advisory Committee, June 8, 1954, Executive Office of the President, Office of Science and Technology, Record Group 359, Box 18, folder: "Pre-White House Science Advisory Committee Documents, 1955-58," National Archives, Washington, DC [hereafter, NA].

97. William T. Golden, "Mobilizing Science for War: A Science Adviser to the President," December 18, 1950, William T. Golden Papers, Library of Congress, Washington, - D. C .

98. Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 63- 65; Bronk, "Science Advice in the White House," 248-50; Kevles, "Cold War and Hot Physics," 254-55.

99. Truman to Buckley, April 19, 1951, Compton/Killian Papers, Box 212, folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan- Aug, 1951," MIT. The full membership of SAC-ODM comprised Oliver E. Buckley, chair; Detlev W. Bronk, president of the National Academy of Sciences; William Webster, chair of the Research and Development Board; Alan T. Waterman, director of the National Science Foundation; Hugh Dryden, chair of the Interdepartmental Committee on Scientific Research and Development; James B. Conant, president of Harvard; Lee A. DuBridge, president of Caltech; James R. Killian, Jr., president of MIT; Robert F. Loeb, Columbia Medical School; J. Robert Oppenheimer, Institute for Advanced Study, 164

Princeton University; Charles A. Thomas, vice-president of Monsanto Chemical Company.

100. Truman to Buckley, April 19, 1951, and Buckley to Killian, April 25, 1951, Compton/Killian Papers, Box 212, folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Aug, 1951," MIT; Buckley to Truman, May 1, 1952 and Truman to Buckley, May 6, 1952, Compton/Killian Papers, Box 212, folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1952," MIT; AEC, Oppenheimer Hearing. 93 .

101. Summary of Meeting No. 12, June 15, 1952; Summary of Meeting No. 13, September 12, 1952; Summary of Meeting No. 14, November 7-9, 1952; DuBridge to Members and Consultants, September 16, 1952, all in Compton/Killian Papers, Box 212, folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1952," MIT; AEC, Oppenheimer Hearing. 93-94; Killian, Sputniks, Scientists, and Eisenhower. 66-67. CHAPTER III

SCIENCE, SECRECY, AND SECURITY: THE LIMITS OF SCIENCE

ADVICE IN THE EARLY EISENHOWER ADMINISTRATION

The election of Dwight D. Eisenhower in November, 1952, persuaded the frustrated membership of the Science Advisory

Committee of the Office of Defense Mobilization (SAC-ODM) not to disband their moribund group immediately. Instead,

they hoped that the president-elect would prove more receptive than his predecessor to their recommendations for revitalizing the science advisory machinery at the White

House and in the Department of Defense. Eisenhower’s personal relationship with several prominent scientists, his wartime exposure to the technological achievements of

American science, and his postwar efforts to secure an ongoing partnership between the Array and the scientific community certainly seemed to augur well for the future of science advising at the White House. Moreover, the president-elect’s commitment to revamping the National

Security Council and the Department of Defense presented an opportunity for SAC-ODM to press its views on the new administration. For a variety of reasons, however, the scientists failed to secure a direct channel to the

165 166 president.

President Eisenhower’s own ambivalent attitude toward

science and scientists created a significant obstacle to

SAC-ODM’s agenda. On the one hand, he fully appreciated the

contributions of American science to military technology and national security. Shortly after assuming office, in fact,

he began fashioning a defense policy predicated on American

superiority in science and technology, and he recognized

that scientific and technical expertise represented a

crucial national resource in the nuclear age. On the other

hand, Eisenhower and the Republicans had campaigned

vigorously on the issues of fiscal retrenchment and internal

security, both of which had serious implications for

American science. The Eisenhower administration committed

itself to reducing federal expenditures at the very moment

when scientists were hoping to expand the operations of the

infant National Science Foundation. More ominously, the

heightened emphasis on internal security promised even more

rigid security restrictions on government research at a time when many scientists were already expressing concern about

oppressive working conditions and the anti-intellectual

climate fostered by red-baiting politicians. Eisenhower, himself, subscribed to the belief that scientists were

rather naive in matters of national security and that the

Soviet Union’s atomic weapons project had succeeded largely as a result of "insecure personnel" working in the American 167 program.*

In the first 18 months of Eisenhower’s term, the scientists of SAC-ODM enjoyed a tenuous relationship with the White House and exercised only modest influence.

Contrary to one recent interpretation, they did not remain passive in this period, but they did fail to win presidential approval for a science adviser to the White

House or the National Security Council. Significantly,

Eisenhower selected Lewis L. Strauss, a nonscientist, to be his Special Assistant for Atomic Energy and de facto science adviser. The Science Advisory Committee therefore had to channel its recommendations through ODM director Arthur S.

Flemming, who nevertheless proved to be a sympathetic intermediary. Indeed, on those issues where Eisenhower believed SAC-ODM possessed unquestioned technical expertise, such as basic research policy or technical aspects of continental defense, the president often followed the group’s recommendations. But on broader matters of policy, such as disarmament, Eisenhower thought that scientists should confine themselves to purely technical advice and leave policymaking to the political and military experts.

The most serious rift between Eisenhower and the scientific community, however, developed over internal security issues, dramatically symbolized by the revocation of J. Robert

Oppenheimer’s security clearance. By the spring of 1954, after Strauss and the Atomic Energy Commission had voted to 168

uphold the suspension and terminate Oppenheimer’s advisory

career, scientists both within and without the government

warned that the Eisenhower administration’s policies were

running the risk of alienating American scientists and

seriously undermining the nation’s Cold War strength.

***

As noted earlier, under the leadership of Caltech

president Lee A. DuBridge, the scientists of SAC-ODM spent

the waning months of the Truman administration contemplating

the committee’s future and how best to fulfill Vannevar

Bush’s longstanding goal of scientific inputs into national

security policymaking. Having failed to secure a major assignment from the president since the committee’s

inception in 1951, several members were ready to disband completely. The scientists all agreed that the Office of

Defense Mobilization, with its focus on production and controls for the Korean War emergency, was "not well suited to science and scientists," but that their science advisory committee served as a "useful deliberative group" and could be called upon to provide scientific assessments of various national security issues. They therefore decided to continue SAC-ODM’s operations at least until the fall, when a new administration might provide "opportunities for more active service."

DuBridge’s group also surveyed the mounting problems associated with military research and development in the Pentagon. Lieutenant General Geoffrey Keyes, Director of the Weapons Systems Evaluation Group (WSEG), the civilian- military advisory body attached to the Joint Chiefs of

Staff, related his difficulties in recruiting top-notch civilian scientific personnel, in part because of stringent security requirements. Perhaps more seriously, scientists associated with the Defense Department’s Research and

Development Board (RDB) reported that the enormous increase in defense spending precipitated by the Korean War had completely overwhelmed the board’s intricate committee system, effectively thwarting all attempts to fashion an integrated program of military research and development.

Harvard president James B. Conant noted that the military services now displayed "an almost frantic enthusiasm" for research and development, "not unlike the man who sprang onto his horse and rode off madly in all directions."

Physicist Isidor I. Rabi, Oppenheimer's successor as chair of the Atomic Energy Commission’s General Advisory Committee

(GAC) and a consultant to SAC-ODM, similarly complained that there was "no top overall scientific organization ... for channeling effort in one direction or another, or to set up a system of priorities." In light of such problems, Rabi and several other prominent scientists renewed calls for the creation of a civilian agency, modeled on the wartime Office of Scientific Research and Development, whereby leading academic and industrial scientists would oversee all 170 military research and development.^

Shortly after the election, at a three-day conclave as

Oppenheimer’s guests at the Institute for Advanced Study in

Princeton, SAC-ODM debated these problems and crafted two proposals for the incoming Eisenhower administration. In order to introduce scientific expertise into the highest levels of policymaking, the committee recommended that the

National Security Council appoint a permanent staff member with a scientific or engineering background "who would have some appreciation of the nature of the scientific content of various decisions that came before the Council." This staff member would be assisted by a standing scientific advisory committee, a reconstituted SAC-ODM, to ensure that the NSC received the "best possible scientific advice."® Secondly, the committee urged the appointment of a "top-notch scientist or engineer" to serve as a scientific adviser to the Secretary of Defense, and suggested that the current chairman of the RDB, MIT electrical engineer Walter G.

Whitman, might be elevated to this status. The science adviser could assist the Secretary in rationalizing military research and development, and should be given adequate funds and staff to conduct special studies on the application of new technology to military problems. Interestingly, the committee "almost unanimously" rejected Rabi's plea for a civilian agency dedicated to military research on the grounds that leading scientists would eschew full-time 171

government service in the absence of a severe national

emergency. DuBridge believed that these recommendations

might be "too trivial" to warrant Eisenhower’s personal

attention, but he suggested that members present them to the

administration through informal conversations with such people as the new Secretary of Defense.

Contrary to DuBridge's expectations, Eisenhower

actually took great personal interest in matters of

governmental organization, particularly in the national

security arena. He believed that correct forms of

organization made "more efficient the gathering and analysis

of facts, and the arranging of the findings of experts in

logical fashion," ultimately enabling "the responsible

1 individual to make the necessary decision." During the

campaign, Eisenhower had promised to overhaul the federal

bureaucracy, particularly the Defense Department, and one of

his first actions after the election was to appoint Nelson

A. Rockefeller to chair an advisory committee on government

organization. As if to drive home the importance of governmental reorganization, Eisenhower’s first executive

order as president reconstituted the Rockefeller committee, which included his brother, Milton, and Athur S. Flemming,

president of Ohio Wesleyan University, as the President’s

0 Advisory Committee on Government Organization (PACGO).

In the last days of 1952, Rockefeller and Flemming met several times with DuBridge and Oppenheimer to discuss SAC- 172

ODM’s recommendations. To the scientists’ delight, the

president’s organization experts appeared receptive. On

December 17, DuBridge left a copy of the committee’s

proposals with Rockefeller, who seemed "earnestly and genuinely interested" in the scientists’ concerns, and promised to convey their views to the president-elect.

Early in the new year, DuBridge informed his committee that

Rockefeller had discussed their ideas with Eisenhower, and optimistically reported that Rockefeller believed the new administration would "move in the directions" suggested by g the scientists.

Despite this early optimism, the scientists’ efforts to break free of ODM and to secure a permanent voice in the deliberations of the National Security Council received mixed reactions from other members of Eisenhower’s team.

The president’s Special Assistant for National Security

Affairs, Robert C. Cutler, who had been charged with revitalizing the NSC structure and broadening its scope to include pertinent nonmilitary aspects of security, initially incorporated one of SAC-ODM’s ideas into his own reorganization plans. He proposed the creation of a small

Special Staff to the NSC, charged with independent analysis and review of policy papers drafted by the interagency

Planning Board, one of whose members should have "an experienced background in scientific problems."^ Although

Eisenhower approved this concept as one of several reforms 173

to strengthen the NSC, Cutler soon had second thoughts, and

two weeks later an NSC official reported that there was now

"some doubt" whether the administration would seek a

scientist for the Special Staff.^

Eisenhower’s selection of Lewis L. Strauss to be his

Special Assistant for Atomic Energy Affairs apparently

precipitated Cutler’s change of position. Strauss, a former

aide to President Herbert Hoover, a Wall Street financier,

and one of the original Atomic Energy Commissioners,

represented the sort of practical, business-oriented adviser

that Eisenhower wanted to bring into his administration. 12

Although a nonscientist, Strauss had a keen interest in physics and considered himself an expert. As a vigorous advocate for the hydrogen bomb, he had already successfully challenged the "technical" advice of Oppenheimer and the GAC scientists, and felt vindicated with the Mike test of

November, 1952. In his capacity as a special assistant, and later as Eisenhower's Chairman of the AEC, Strauss attended

NSC meetings at the president’s pleasure, which seemed to obviate the need for a full-time scientist on the NSC staff.

Moreover, Strauss had already developed deep suspicions regarding Oppenheimer’s loyalty, which reinforced his reluctance to enhance the role of former GAC scientists like

DuBridge, Oppenheimer, and Conant, who now served on SAC-ODM and had earlier opposed the thermonuclear weapons program.13 174

The president, himself, harbored reservations about the role of scientists in policymaking. Despite his brief tenure as president of Columbia University, Eisenhower possessed something of an anti-intellectual streak, once confiding to a friend that great thinkers were "usually uncomfortable characters to have around." Later, when the

Senate delayed confirmation of several Cabinet nominees with business backgrounds to examine possible conflicts of interest, Eisenhower fumed that "sooner or later we will be unable to get anybody to take jobs in Washington except business failures, college professors, and New Deal lawyers." Although Eisenhower appreciated the wartime work of scientists, particularly Bush and Conant, he believed that they should confine their opinions to purely technical matters and leave policymaking to the political and military experts. He also complained that "most scientists concerned with atomic problems had no real grasp of the security issue." While Eisenhower did not share Strauss’ concern about Oppenheimer’s loyalty, he did worry about the eminent physicist’s excessive influence over his colleagues and acquiesced in Strauss’ campaign to ease Oppenheimer out of his government advisory positions.^

Given Eisenhower’s concerns and Strauss’ determination to safeguard his own role as de. facto science adviser to the president, Cutler proposed an alternative mechanism for securing technical advice for the NSC. He suggested that 175

the Council appoint a panel of "three or four qualified

consultants" who could provide assistance "for limited

periods of time on special problems." Strauss welcomed this

arrangement, no doubt recognizing that an ad hoc panel

convened at the pleasure of the NSC would be less likely to

evolve into an independent power base within the

administration than DuBridge’s concept of a standing

committee of relatively autonomous scientists. Not

surprisingly, when Cutler solicited names of possible

consultants, Strauss recommended three scientists -- Karl T.

Compton, Detlev W. Bronk, and John von Neumann -- who had all supported development of the hydrogen bomb. Although unnoticed at the time, Strauss’ list of candidates actually suggested the potential pitfalls of relying on a nonscientist for scientific advice when he misidentified

Karl Compton as a "Nobel Laureate," obviously confusing him with his brother, Arthur!^

DuBridge, meanwhile, worked assiduously to mobilize support within the administration for SAC-ODM’s original

Princeton proposals. At his instigation, Bush and Conant, perhaps the two scientists who commanded the most respect with the new president, contacted Cutler to express strong support for a scientific expert in the NSC. Similarly,

Charles A. Thomas, president of the Monsanto Chemical

Company and a member of SAC-ODM currently serving as a consultant to the NSC during its review of basic national 176 security policy, endorsed DuBridge’s recommendations. The

idea of an independent science advisory committee also won support from the Central Intelligence Agency and from Arthur

Flemming, the new Director of the Office of Defense

Mobilization. Significantly, Flemming, who had favored the Princeton proposals from the outset, assured DuBridge that he would continue SAC-ODM in the event that no independent science advisory committee were created. IS

DuBridge brought matters to a head at a May 2 meeting with Cutler, Bush, Flemming, and Deputy Secretary of Defense

Roger M. Kyes. Despite Flemming’s support, neither Cutler nor Kyes wanted a scientist on the NSC Special Staff, arguing that most NSC problems were not technical in nature.

Cutler also reiterated that the Council should utilize "ad hoc consultants and committees ... rather than have a permanent scientific committee." DuBridge and Bush then suggested that perhaps a science adviser should serve in the

Executive Office of the President to assist the administration in "formulating policies and budgets."

Cutler reluctantly agreed to consider the idea, but a few days later told Bush that there was "not much enthusiasm" for a scientific adviser in the White House. Kyes privately worried that an outside scientist reviewing Defense

Department programs would "create a lot of unnecessary difficulty and delay." In describing the meeting to his fellow scientists, DuBridge regretfully concluded that "it 177

was not clear that the need for [scientific] help was ...

clearly recognized." 17

Despite this failure to obtain a direct voice in the

deliberations of the NSC, DuBridge and Flemming worked out

an alternative arrangement for providing scientific and

technical advice to top policymakers. Flemming persuaded

the scientists to continue SAC-ODM, and suggested that they

appoint a full-time executive officer to work closely with

both himself and the NSC staff. As eventually conceived,

David Z. Beckler, the executive secretary of SAC-ODM, sat in

on NSC meetings and served as a liaison between the Council

and DuBridge’s group. This enabled the scientists to offer

advice and recommendations on technical aspects of various national security issues before the NSC to Flemming, who, as

a statutory member of the NSC, could bring them to the full

Council’s attention. Although somewhat awkward in

structure, this arrangement nevertheless opened the door for

SAC-ODM to play a larger role in policymaking. 18

Meanwhile, the Science Advisory Committee played an

indirect role in reorganizing the research and development

structure in the Pentagon. Their Princeton critique of the clumsy and ineffective committee system in the Research and

Development Board, coupled with similar comments from outgoing Secretary of Defense Robert A. Lovett, reinforced

Eisenhower’s commitment to overhauling the Department of

Defense in general. Indeed, Eisenhower deliberately 178 selected General Motors president Charles E. Wilson, head of the nation’s largest industrial corporation, to be Secretary of Defense because he wanted a skilled business manager to streamline the nation’s largest bureaucracy. Shortly after assuming office, Wilson set about applying GM’s patented multidivisional, decentralized management system to the

Pentagon with a view to achieving "maximum security at minimum cost."19

In a classic example of what one scholar has termed

Eisenhower’s "hidden hand" leadership style, Wilson and the president appointed a Committee on Defense Reorganization to recommend changes in the Pentagon that they had already agreed upon. Eisenhower had long championed greater centralized authority in the Defense Department, believing that strong civilian direction from the top was necessary to control interservice rivalries over roles and missions, which in turn fostered waste, duplication, and inefficiency.

In order to achieve this, Reorganization Plan 6, submitted to Congress in April, proposed creating six additional assistant secretaries of defense with department-wide responsibilities. These assistant secretaries would be the equivalent of vice-presidents in the GM management hierarchy, and would strengthen Wilson’s hand in dealing with the individual services. Eisenhower also proposed insulating the Joint Staff from the individual service chiefs by giving the Chairman of the JCS authority over the 179

selection and tenure of all Joint Staff officers. In this

way, the president hoped to free Joint Staff officers from

their parochial service interests, and to encourage the

Joint Chiefs to develop a "corporate" view of national security policy.'*® The scientists of SAC-ODM indirectly shaped the research and development portions of Reorganization Plan 6.

Vannevar Bush, himself a former chairman of the RDB, served on the Rockefeller Committee and received a copy of SAC-

ODM’s Princeton recommendations. 21 Both Eisenhower and the scientists recognized that "there was much duplication among the three services in research and development," in part because each service hoped to exploit the latest scientific and technological advances to augment its own mission, or even to impinge on the missions of the rival services, and increase its share of the defense budget. Despite several minor modifications, the "rigid and unwieldy" RDB had utterly failed to rationalize military research and development. Reorganization Plan 6 therefore proposed abolishing the board and transferring its functions to two new assistant secretaries of defense, one for research and development and one for applications engineering. Like the old RDB, the assistant secretary for research and development would have responsibility for "preparing a complete and integrated program of research and development for military purposes," would advise the Secretary of 180

Defense on research policies, and would advise the JCS

"regarding trends in scientific research relating to national security and regarding the interaction of research and development and strategy." The assistant secretary for applications engineering, meanwhile, would have responsibilites, "in the broad field which lies between research and development, on the one hand, and the quantity production of weapons on the other." 22

As finally implemented in June, 1953, Reorganization

Plan 6, by completely eliminating the RDB, went further than

SAC-ODM had originally contemplated, but the scientists found the new arrangements eminently acceptable. To their obvious delight, Wilson named Donald A. Quarles, a former vice-president of the Monsanto Chemical Company and a strong advocate of basic scientific research, to be the first

Assistant Secretary of Defense for Research and Development.

Quarles quickly moved to reassure the nation’s scientific elite that he would continue to seek their advice through a series of part-time technical advisory panels. He also invited civilian scientists to apply their "independent, creative thinking to the broad technological aspects of the defense effort." 23 Thus, Reorganization Plan 6, in conjunction with SAC-ODM’s improved access to the National

Security Council, seemed to hold out the prospect of an enlarged role for scientists in the top policymaking machinery of the national security state. 181

***

The scientists of SAC-ODM soon had an opportunity to test their new-found influence when the Eisenhower administration turned its attention to government support of basic research and the role of the National Science Foundation. Eisenhower and the Republicans had campaigned on the fiscally conservative platform of reducing government expenditures, balancing the budget, and cutting taxes. Once in office, bolstered by Republican control of both houses of

Congress, the new president promised that progress toward a balanced budget would be his "first order of business." Not only would balancing the budget secure the "sound dollar" that Eisenhower felt was essential for the long-term economic health of the nation, but it might also pay a political dividend by allowing tax cuts which would solidify the Republican coalition. With the able assistance of

Secretary of the Treasury George M. Humphrey, a Taft

Republican and former head of the Cleveland-based Mark A.

Hanna holding company, and Budget Director Joseph M. Dodge, a Detroit banker, Eisenhower quickly set about pursuing greater efficiency and economy in government programs. As part of this campaign, the Bureau of the Budget (BOB) reviewed federal research and development expenditures and the role of the infant NSF.^

In May, Dodge outlined a two-pronged approach to streamlining federal research and development. First, he 182 proposed centralizing federal support of basic research in the NSF by transferring suitable projects from other agencies. Such consolidation, he believed, would effect substantial savings by eliminating unnecessary duplication of facilities, equipment, and personnel. In order to give the NSF the necessary means to take on such new programs,

Dodge made no change in the Truman administration’s budget request for $8,434 million in research support for the NSF.

He also endorsed the initiative of Senator H. Alexander

Smith (R-NJ), one of the NSF’s original sponsors, to lift the agency’s $15 million budget ceiling. Secondly, Dodge recommended that the NSF move beyond its narrow focus on basic scientific research and training to assist the BOB in evaluating agency research and development programs. Such authority had been written into the 1950 NSF Act, he noted, but the agency had made no progress in this direction to date.^

The administration’s new research and development policy received a muted response from the nation’s scientific leaders. Naturally, NSF Director Alan T.

Waterman and his National Science Board welcomed the prospect of more federal funds for basic research being channeled through their agency. Most scientists also shared the administration’s conviction that the current federal research and development budget of $2.2 billion was too high, exacerbating the postwar shortage of trained 183 scientific manpower and distorting the nation’s research effort by overemphasizing atomic energy and military technology. Nevertheless, while agreeing that federal research programs required improved coordination, Waterman and his colleagues worried that assigning this unpopular task to the NSF might embroil the agency in bitter feuds that could jeopardize its primary mission of basic research support and scientific training. More generally, scientists expressed concern that centralizing basic research in one agency might disrupt existing projects and deprive researchers of the opportunity to solicit support for worthwhile studies from several sources. Only by maintaining a pluralistic system of government support, they felt, would academic freedom be assured.^

Secretary of Defense Charles E. Wilson’s budget-cutting activities at the Pentagon reinforced scientists’ concerns about the administration’s research and development policies. Having promised the president administrative savings of $1 billion per year in his department, Wilson slashed over $100 million from the Truman administration’s military research and development budget request and then impounded 25 per cent of research funds pending further review. What most troubled scientists within and without the government was that Wilson’s axe seemed to fall disproportionately on basic research projects in nongovernment facilities, a particularly alarming 184

development given the fact that the Pentagon typically

accounted for more than half of all such research.

Moreover, Wilson apparently wanted his department to abandon

basic research entirely. He publicly defined basic research

as activity that, if successful, "could never possibly be of any use to the people that put up the money for it."^

This attitude outraged MIT president and SAC-ODM member

James R. Killian, Jr., who feared that too many people in

the administration regarded science "from the viewpoint of

the industrialist who thinks of it as a luxury unless it produces immediate results." He called on DuBridge,

Waterman, and Academy president Bronk to "marshal our

forces" in defense of government support for basic research.^

The scientists seized their opportunity when Budget

Director Dodge circulated two draft executive orders on research and development for agency comments. The most controversial features of the first order designated the

National Science Foundation as the "primary agency" for government support of basic scientific research, called for the NSF to "evaluate" agency research programs "to eliminate unnecessary duplication in basic research," and authorized it to "formulate policies" to relieve academic institutions of applied research projects unsuited to their educational mission. The second order attempted to rationalize federal research and development by prioritizing projects, improving 185 cost estimates, and pooling equipment and facilities between agencies wherever possible. Together, the two orders threatened a major reorientation in federal research and development policy. 29

DuBridge immediately fired off a seven-page denunciation of the orders to ODM Director Flemming, and the scientists of SAC-ODM raised similar objections. In blunt language, DuBridge stated that he was "strongly opposed" to issuing the orders in their present form, warning that

"science would suffer and that agencies engaged in scientific work would be burdened and confused to an extent which would reduce their scientific effectiveness."

Reassigning applied research projects away from the universities, for example, would "throw dynamite" into the government-university relationship and cause severe financial hardship for those institutions which had recruited personnel and constructed facilities specifically designated for government research. In addition, the orders failed to differentiate between basic and applied research.

The former, performed mainly in nonprofit institutions, was underfunded and accounted for only 5 per cent of the government's $2 billion research and development expenditures. Applied research concentrated in government and industrial facilities, meanwhile, had become overblown and lacked coordination. Any effort to rationalize federal research and development policy therefore had to account for 186

these different types of research. The BOB’s intention of

selecting research projects strictly on the basis of

"necessity," he warned, would automatically eliminate most

long-term basic research directed toward advancing

fundamental knowledge. 30 DuBridge, Waterman, and SAC-ODM similarly expressed strong reservations over the proposed new role for the NSF.

The scientists disputed the notion that duplication was a problem in basic research, arguing that the free exchange of

information in professional journals and peer review of projects automatically prevented redundancy. Similarly, they contended that the broadly representative nature of the

NSF’s National Science Board and its narrow focus on basic research and training made the agency unsuitable for directing overall federal research and development policy.

Any NSF coordination of agency research programs should be limited solely to basic research, and even here Waterman insisted on a cooperative approach. Finally, the scientists resisted designating the NSF as the "primary agency" for basic research support, fearing that this would encourage other agencies to eliminate basic research entirely and that the underfunded NSF would be unable to take up the slack.

DuBridge and Killian, as presidents of two of the largest university contractors for government research, particularly worried that the NSF’s failure to pay full overhead costs, unlike the DOD, made it "wholly unsuitable for the support 187 of large research projects at large research centers." As

DuBridge pointedly confessed to Flemming, Caltech "would go broke very quickly if all of its basic research support were suddenly transferred to the National Science Foundation." 31

Fortunately for the scientists, others in the administration echoed their concerns. Neither Lewis

Strauss, now Chairman of the AEC, nor Donald A. Quarles,

Assistant Secretary of Defense for Research and Development, wanted to surrender research projects to another agency or submit their programs to outside review. Similarly, despite

Secretary Wilson’s oft-quoted disdain for basic scientific research, the individual armed services valued their ongoing ties with academic scientists. They felt that military support for university research added to the store of fundamental knowledge, acquainted scientists with military problems, and augmented the pool of trained manpower that might be mobilized in a national emergency. For these reasons, Emmanuel R. Piore, Waterman’s successor as chief scientist of the Office of Naval Research, worked tirelessly to educate Wilson to the importance of pure research. 32

Most importantly, President Eisenhower, himself, reminded Wilson of his "great interest" in basic research.

The president fully recognized that the nation’s military security in the atomic age rested in part on "superior scientific research and development." He also worried about the ongoing shortage of trained scientific manpower, 188 especially when compared with CIA reports detailing the

Soviet Union’s increasing output of scientists and technicians and predicting that the total number of science students in the USSR would soon surpass the number of

American students. The president therefore cautioned Wilson that, given the "relatively small amount" of Defense funds involved in basic research, he would "hate to see this contracted or much damaged." 33

Throughout the fall, DuBridge, Waterman, and SAC-ODM, assisted by Piore, worked on a single executive order on government scientific research which would reconcile their concerns with the BOB’s desire for greater efficiency and economy. In November, David Z. Beckler, SAC-ODM’s executive officer, produced a draft which satisfied the various parties. Instead of designating the NSF as the "primary agency" for basic research, the new order stated that the

Foundation would be "increasingly responsible for providing support by the Federal Government for general-purpose basic research," while specifically recognizing that mission- oriented basic research in other agencies was "important and desirable." Although the NSF would recommend policies to the president to "strengthen the national scientific effort" and help define the government’s proper role in research, individual agency heads would retain primary responsibility for their respective research programs. Only in the area of agency support for basic research would the NSF be 189

"consulted." Finally, while the NSF would "study" the

effects of government research and development contracts on universities, the order made no reference to "relieving" such institutions of applied research projects. In the only significant concession to the BOB's economy drive, the draft order enjoined agency heads to share major equipment and facilities with other agencies "to the extent practicable.

With the issuance of Executive Order 10521 on March 17,

1954, the scientists’ victory was complete. Eisenhower’s order followed the SAC-ODM draft almost verbatim, and contained no substantive changes. Moreover, the president accepted the scientists’ contention that basic research was relatively underfunded and called for a $6 million increase in approporiations for the NSF in Fiscal Year 1955, only half of which would result from the transfer of projects from other agencies. Clearly, in the realm of basic research, the scientists of SAC-ODM, working closely with

ODM Director Flemming and NSF Director Waterman, exercised considerable influence over government policy. Together, they successfully bolstered the position of the infant NSF while at the same time averting any significant reorientation in the cozy government-university partnership that had evolved since World War Two.

***

The scientists’ first direct foray into national 190

security policy involved the thorny issue of the continental

defense of the United States. The Eisenhower administration

inherited an ongoing debate regarding both the feasibility

and desirability of a more effective air defense system, and

called upon the expertise of SAC-ODM, among others, to help fashion a clear policy. In effect, the debate over continental defense represented a continuation of the

struggle, first highlighted by the hydrogen bomb decision, between the advocates of an all-out air-atomic strategy and

the supporters of a more balanced defense posture. Several members of SAC-ODM, most notably Oppenheimer and Killian, had already participated in a series of air defense studies and concluded that much more needed to be done. Together with like-minded scientists outside the administration, SAC-

ODM became a powerful voice for an accelerated effort in continental defense. Eventually, over the opposition of air-atomic enthusiasts who feared that improving air defenses would siphon resources away from the Strategic Air

Command, the scientists’ labors bore fruit. The Eisenhower administration’s New Look defense policy stressed offensive stiking power, but also cautiously adopted an integrated program of continental defense.

The Air Force initiated scientific studies of the problem of continental defense in 1951 when it contracted with MIT for Project Charles, an investigation into the feasibility of establishing a permanent air defense 191 laboratory. Air Force Secretary Thomas K. Finletter and physicist Louis A. Ridenour, chair of the Air Force’s

Scientific Advisory Board, hoped to mobilize MIT’s expertise in such fields as radar, electronics, and digital computers on behalf of Air Force problems. The study led to the creation of the Lincoln Laboratory, a permanent facility devoted to both technical and strategic aspects of air defense and managed by MIT for the military services. By

1952, scientists at the Lincoln Laboratory concluded that existing air defenses, under optimal conditions, could only achieve a 20 per cent kill-rate against enemy bombers.

Within a few years, they warned, the Soviet Union would have sufficient atomic bombs and long-range aircraft to deliver a potentially crippling blow against the United States in a surprise attack. They also noted, however, that new technology could greatly reduce the danger. The scientists recommended the installation of a distant early warning radar line across northern Canada to provide three to six hours notice of an impending attack, an integrated and fully automated communications system for air defense forces using the latest computers, and improved interceptor aircraft and anti-aircraft missiles. Together, the MIT studies estimated that an expenditure of several billion dollars would be required over the next few years.

By the time the Eisenhower administration took office in 1953, several more reports warned of the perilous state 192

of the nation’s air defenses, the "Achilles heel of our

national security," according to one State Department

official. The Truman administration’s summary of major

defense problems, NSC 141, reiterated the growing

vulnerability of the United States to a surprise attack of "critical proportions," and recommended large "additional"

appropriations for defensive purposes. Project East River,

a study of civil defense problems under the auspices of

Associated Universities Incorporated (AUI), the consortium

of northeastern universities that managed the AEC’s

Brookhaven National Laboratory, concluded that no civil

defense program would be effective without the requisite military measures to improve continental defense,

particularly adequate early warning supported by defense-in- depth against enemy aircraft. The East River Report also

recommended "lifting the veil of secrecy that has surrounded

some aspects of defense" to overcome public apathy and congressional parsimony regarding civil defense. 37

Perhaps most importantly, the State Department’s Panel of Consultants on Disarmament, originally appointed by

Secretary of State Acheson and including Oppenheimer, Bush, and new CIA Director Allen W. Dulles, recommended "greatly

intensified efforts" in continental defense. The panel warned that the ever-increasing American stockpile of nuclear weapons would fail to provide more security once the

Soviet Union had built "enough" weapons of its own to cause 193

massive damage to the United States in the event of war.

Although strengthening continental defenses would not

provide an impenetrable shield, it would postpone the date

when the Soviet Union might be able to deliver a single

knockout blow. Moreover, improved continental defenses

would protect the American strategic deterrent, which would

add to the security of both the United States and Western

Europe. In addition, the panel recommended "a policy of candor toward the American people" to educate them to the

realities of the atomic arms race and American vulnerabilities. An informed public opinion would guard against the danger of complacency and facilitate rational decisionmaking in the field of atomic weapons policy.

While the Eisenhower administration digested these various reports, the respective advocates of continental defense and strategic airpower engaged in a sometimes acrimonious public debate. Charles J. V. Murphy, a former

Air Force Reserve officer and an editor of Fortune magazine, accused a disgruntled cabal of scientists of deliberately undermining the Strategic Air Command by opposing development of the hydrogen bomb and then attempting to divert resources into a "jet-propelled, electronically hedged Maginot Line." The ring-leaders in this conspiracy,

MIT physicist Jerrold Zacharias, Oppenheimer, Rabi, and

Caltech physicist Charles C. Lauritsen, went under the sinister acronym "ZORC." Former Secretary of the Air Force 194

Finletter, in a more restrained mode, denounced continental

defense as a step down the road to "the fortress American

isolationized idea." 39

Supporters of continental defense rushed to counter such charges. Lloyd V. Berkner, president of Associated Universities and a participant in Project East River, pointed out that no one seriously contemplated a near- perfect air defense system, but that significant

improvements in the kill-rate could be made for "relatively

little, certainly only a few hundred million dollars."

Oppenheimer and Killian, in articles first cleared with the

White House, likewise disclaimed any notion of a "perfect" air defense system, but called for greater balance between offensive and defensive forces. Too many resources, they felt, had been channeled into the Air Force’s doctrine of the strategic air offensive. Now it was time to advance military technology "in ways the superbomb, massive- retaliation boys tended to neglect."^

Faced with conflicting advice, the Eisenhower administration characteristically appointed its own special study groups to examine the issue of continental defense.

Mervin J. Kelly, president of the Bell Telephone

Laboratories, one of the institutions researching technical solutions to the problem of early warning, headed a study by civilian consultants. In its final report, the Kelly committee straddled both sides of the debate. On the one 195

hand, it recommended the creation of a "continental air

defense system much better than that which is assured under

present programs," including such elements as an improved

early warning system and better defensive weapons. On the

other, it noted that an invulnerable air defense system was "completely impractical, economically and technically," and

that further development of a powerful atomic offensive capability would continue to play a major role in deterring an enemy air attack. The Kelly report also downplayed the

sense of urgency in the earlier MIT studies, explicitly rejecting the need for a "crash" program of continental defense.

In June, Eisenhower's NSC established its own

Continental Defense Committee under Major General Harold

Bull to review the various studies and draft a policy statement for Council action. The resulting document, NSC

159, concurred that the Soviet Union possessed a growing capability to deliver a "devastating atomic attack on the

United States," and that present continental defense programs were "not now adequate either to prevent, neutralize, or seriously deter" such an attack. Still, NSC

159 outlined a series of measures which, if fully implemented, would prevent the Soviet Union from achieving the capability of destroying the war-making capacity of the

United States in a single blow. Completion of the existing

Southern Canadian early warning system and improved methods 196 of aircraft identification received highest priority, followed by the construction of a distant early warning line, an automated air control system, and better fighter interceptor and anti-aircraft forces.

The Soviet Union’s explosion of a thermonuclear device on August 12, 1953, added a sense of urgency as the full NSC took up the issue of continental defense as part of its overall re-evaluation of national security policy. The scientists of SAC-ODM, while not actually present at these

NSC discussions, effectively participated by proxy. Having been "intimately concerned with this problem for several years," the committee submitted its own "formal report" on

NSC 159 to ODM Director Flemming, who vigorously championed the scientists’ cause. Reflecting SAC-ODM’s priorities,

Flemming declared that it was "vital" to press ahead with an early warning system because it would greatly facilitate both military and civil defense measures. He strongly endorsed the entire program outlined in NSC 159, and urged the Council to approve it, "even if it were necessary to seek a supplemental appropriation from the Congress to finance it." Vice-President Richard M. Nixon and Time-Life executive C. D. Jackson, Eisenhower’s psychological warfare expert, worried by public reaction to the mounting press criticism of the existing continental defense program, similarly recommended bold action to demonstrate that continental defense was a "top priority" for the 197 administration. Even the cost-conscious George M. Humphrey admitted that the United States "lacked an adequate defense for its own vitals," and that such a defense had to be provided, "and quickly." 43

As usual, Eisenhower sought to keep the discussion of continental defense within the broader framework of overall national security policy. He reminded the Council of his conviction that the United States faced a dual threat: the external one posed by Soviet military capabilities; and the internal one caused by the economic burden of sustaining sufficient military forces to deter Soviet expansionism over the long haul. With regard to continental defense, the president noted that "we were engaged ... not only in defending our persons from attack; we were engaged in the defense of a way of life." In implicitly rejecting the calls of Flemming and the scientists for increased approporiations, Eisenhower explained that the real problem was to devise methods of meeting the Soviet threat "that would not result in our transformation into a garrison state." The desirable goal was "a minimum military establishment and mobilization base" that could be rapidly expanded in times of crisis. Although Eisenhower conceded that the existing continental defense system was inadequate and approved NSC 159/4 on September 25, the preamble to the revised document stressed that continental defense was only one element of an "integrated complex" of national security 198

programs and that a proper balance had to be maintained

between them. Consequently, Eisenhower planned to fund the

highest priority items in NSC 159/4 from savings in other

military programs, rather than through increased

appropriations.^ Throughout the fall and winter of 1953-54, the

scientists’ campaign within and without the government for

an improved continental defense system continued to achieve

significant results. In its new statement of basic national

security policy, NSC 162/2, the Eisenhower administration

still assigned top priority to the development and

maintenance of "a strong military posture, with emphasis on

the capability of inflicting massive retaliatory damage by

offensive striking power," but conceded the necessity of "an

integrated and effective continental defense" to protect the

retaliatory forces, the mobilization base, and the American people.^ The administration’s Fiscal Year 1955 budget request similarly stressed "the full exploitation of airpower and modern weapons," but also included expenditures

for continental defense "greater than ever before." While

reducing total military spending by some $3.9 billion in FY

1955, the administration planned to increase continental defense expenditures by a modest $261 million, which Jg actually represented a significant proportional increase.

Finally, after SAC-ODM reported "no serious technical delays or uncertainties" regarding the early warning programs, 199 Eisenhower approved completion of the Southern Canadian

Early Warning Line and construction of the Distant Early

Warning (DEW) Line "as soon as practicable." After several

months of joint study, the United States and Canada

announced their commitment to the construction of the DEW

iff line across Northern Canada in November, 1954.

While Eisenhower proved receptive to the scientists’

technical judgments regarding American vulnerability to a

Soviet atomic attack and the feasibility of an improved continental defense system, the same was certainly not true with respect to their repeated calls for greater "candor toward the American people." Indeed, the president’s

initial reaction to the report of the Panel of Consultants on Disarmament was to question why the State Department had allowed scientists like Bush and Oppenheimer to move "out of the scientific realm into the realms of policy and psychology." Whereas the Oppenheimer group argued that an authoritative government statement on the realities of the atomic arms race would produce the sort of informed public opinion necessary for a rational debate over policy alternatives, Eisenhower saw no reason to "scare the people" through such revelations, particularly as his administration was attempting to curtail military spending and lift the

Korean War economic controls. Eisenhower particularly objected to disclosing any information on the size of the

American atomic stockpile, apparently rejecting the 200 contention of Oppenheimer and AEC Chairman Gordon Dean that such a statement would prevent any misunderstanding on the

Soviet Union’s part regarding American military strength.

The president did, however, raise the possibility of turning the atomic energy program toward "peaceful uses" once a

IQ "sufficient stockpile" of weapons had been achieved.

After hearing Oppenheimer and Bush present their case in person before the NSC in May, Eisenhower momentarily softened his position. He declared himself in favor of candor "in principle," and directed C. D. Jackson to prepare a suitable presidential statement on the nature of the atomic arms race. Within a few months, however, Eisenhower abandoned the endeavor. He worried that Jackson’s frank discussion of the arras race would "scare the country to death," and possibly undermine the New Look by generating popular clamor for increased defense expenditures. Chairman

Strauss and the Joint Chiefs of Staff, meanwhile, saw no merit in revealing details of the American nuclear stockpile to the Soviet Union. Gradually, Eisenhower reverted to his original idea of turning the atomic energy program toward peaceful uses. After much thought, he suggested the possibility of the United States and the Soviet Union each donating a fixed amount of fissionable material to the

United Nations for such peaceful purposes as research reactors and nuclear power plants. This limited Soviet-

American cooperation might open the door to further 201 agreements and a general improvement in international

relations. In addition, perhaps to assuage Strauss,

Eisenhower hoped to achieve a comparative advantage for the

United States by setting the quantity of donated material

"at a figure which we could handle from our stockpile, but which would be difficult for the Soviets to match." 49

When Eisenhower finally delivered his "Atoms for

Peace" speech to the United Nations General Assembly on

December 8, 1953, little remained of Oppenheimer's plea for a full and frank explanation of the realities of the atomic arms race. The president had already publicly stated that he would not "disclose the details of our strength in atomic weapons of any sort," and his UN address merely discussed the dangers of atomic warfare in general terms. Moreover, his principal message was one of hope. If the nuclear powers would agree to donate a portion of their stockpiles of fissionable materials to an International Atomic Energy

Agency under UN auspices, then the atom might "serve the peaceful pursuits of mankind."^ In fact, as the Soviet

Union’s official reply noted, Eisenhower’s proposal would

"neither check the growing production of atomic weapons nor

limit the possibilities of their use." When the Soviets rebuffed the initiative and reiterated their own preference

for a joint declaration banning the bomb, Atoms for Peace deteriorated into a Cold War propaganda battle.^ Although

Eisenhower privately recorded his conviction that the world 202

was "racing toward catastrophe," he obviously did not share

the scientists’ belief that the American people needed to know of this danger. 52

***

The major source of tension between the nation’s scientific elite and the Eisenhower administration in 1953 and 1954 concerned the issue of internal security. Having exploited anticommunism to great effect in the 1952 election, charging the Democrats with being "soft on communism" both at home and abroad, Eisenhower and the

Republicans promised to root out subversives in the federal government and overhaul President Truman’s much-maligned loyalty-security program. For many scientists, Eisenhower’s commitment to internal security and his apparent tolerance of Senator Joseph R. McCarthy’s inquisitions heightened their concerns about the growing anti-intellectual climate.

Specifically, they worried that further security restrictions would hamper the free exchange of information deemed necessary for scientific progress, and might even dissuade the nation’s best researchers from engaging in government work. McCarthy’s investigation of the Army

Signals Laboratory at Fort Monmouth, New Jersey, quickly followed by the suspension of J. Robert Oppenheimer’s security clearance, seemed to confirm their worst fears. 53

Eisenhower, himself, subscribed to what one observer has called the "Caesar’s Wife" concept of security. He 203 believed that federal employment was "a privilege and not a constitutional right," and that even "loyal" employees might be unwitting security risks if they associated with subversives or suffered personal failings which left them open to blackmail. In April, 1953, Eisenhower instituted a new, uniform internal security program. Under Executive

Order 10450, an employee's retention or hiring had to be

"clearly consistent with the interests of national security." Agency heads now became responsible for the loyalty of their personnel, which meant that employees who transferred departments or consulted for different agencies might be subject to several screenings. Although Eisenhower drew a sharp distinction between his administration’s scrupulous adherence to this quasi-legal procedure and

McCarthy’s "un-American" methods of unsubstantiated allegations and sensationalism, many scientists saw little practical difference between them.®*

McCarthy’s investigation of the Army Signals Corps

Engineering Laboratories in the fall of 1953 deeply disturbed the nation’s scientists. The facility performed important work in the continental defense radar program, among others, and had already experienced difficulty recruiting trained personnel because of the Army’s stringent security restrictions on classified research projects.

Nonetheless, McCarthy descended on the laboratory armed with a letter, supposedly written by FBI Director J. Edgar 204

Hoover, charging that thirty-five Fort Monmouth employees

were "security risks." The fact that convicted atomic spy

Julius Rosenberg had once worked at the facility and had

known many of the scientists made Fort Monmouth an inviting

target. During closed hearings in October, McCarthy characteristically hinted that his investigating committee

had uncovered a "radar spy ring." The Army suspended some

thirty-three employees pending its own investigation, but

neither the Army nor McCarthy found any cases of

espionage.55

The Fort Monmouth inquiry alarmed scientists both within and without the government. The Science Advisory

Committee informed ODM Director Flemming that the case had

"done great harm to important defense research." In a long memorandum to Vice President Richard M. Nixon, the administration’s point-man in its dealings with McCarthy,

the scientists stressed that "national security requires that the scientific laboratories, both public and private, must be kept at a high level of morale and activity." In a similar vein, the Federation of American Scientists noted that "investigations which are characterized largely by sensational headlines and wholesale suspensions" could result in a net gain for the Soviet Union by "crippling our defense research." Many observers reported that morale had plummeted at Fort Monmouth, that many current scientific personnel were ready to leave, and that researchers at other 205

government laboratories were fearful of similar

investigations. The FAS argued that real national security

could only be achieved through "an intelligent balance of

security by secrecy against security by vigorous military rc research and continuing achievement." Even more disconcerting for the scientists of SAC-ODM

was the revelation that one of their own number had fallen

under suspicion. On November 7, 1953, William L. Borden,

former executive director of the staff of the congressional

Joint Committee on Atomic Energy, sent a letter to FBI

Director J . Edgar Hoover alleging that "more probably than

not" J. Robert Oppenheimer was "an espionage agent" for the

Soviet Union. Early in December, Hoover passed the

information on to Cutler, AEC Chairman Strauss, and Defense

Secretary Wilson. The latter reportedly "exploded with

terror," and immediately telephoned Eisenhower to express

his alarm. The next day, Eisenhower ordered that a "blank

wall" be placed between Oppenheimer and "any information of a sensitive or classified character," while Attorney General

Herbert Brownell reviewed the scientist’s file to consider whether an indictment should be sought. Meanwhile, ODM

Director Flemming informed DuBridge that Oppenheimer’s "Q" clearance had been suspended pending further investigation, and that Oppenheimer was now barred from attending SAC-ODM meetings.57 206

The Borden letter precipitated the very confrontation

between the Eisenhower administration and the scientific community that the president had been working to avoid.

Although Eisenhower did not share Strauss’ conviction that

Oppenheimer’s past Communist associations, his opposition to the hydrogen bomb, and his support for greater "candor" in the atomic arms race cast serious doubt on his loyalty, the president was troubled by the scientist’s prestige and excessive influence. According to C. D. Jackson, the president "just didn’t feel comfortable with Oppenheimer," in part because of his "hypnotic influence over small groups." Early in his term, therefore, Eisenhower had acquiesced in Strauss’ plan to remove Oppenheimer from government service by allowing his AEC consultantship to expire. This approach suffered an unanticipated setback in

May, when outgoing AEC Chairman Gordon Dean, apparently without consulting his successor, renewed Oppenheimer’s contract for another year. Nevertheless, Eisenhower and

Strauss continued their strategy by simply not calling on

Oppenheimer for advice. When the NSC formed a special committee to discuss how to implement the recommendations of the State Department’s Panel of Consultants on Disarmament, for example, Cutler invited Bush to participate but not

Oppenheimer, who had authored the original report. The quiet campaign against Oppenheimer probably also accounted for the administration’s reluctance to elevate the status of 207

SAC-ODM, of which Oppenheimer was the most visible member.

Indeed, in December, FBI Director Hoover proposed abolishing

SAC-ODM as the least conspicuous way of removing

Oppenheimer. That Eisenhower did not pursue this course was a testament to the committee’s perceived usefulness by the end of 1953 . 58

Borden’s letter posed a dilemma for the Eisenhower administration. On the one hand, the president’s advisers worried that the document would leak to McCarthy, who would then jump on Oppenheimer and exploit the case to embarrass the president. McCarthy already knew of the FBI’s extensive file on the scientist's past associations and had only been dissuaded from going public through the entreaties of Hoover and Nixon. On the other hand, some members of the administration expressed concern that suspending

Oppenheimer's clearance and pursuing a formal inquiry might alienate the nation’s scientists and cause them to abandon government work entirely. Assistant Secretary of Defense

Quarles, himself a chemist, believed that "the security risk was something with which we could live but that the effect on the scientific community was something we could not survive." Eventually, in a mid-December strategy session,

Eisenhower agreed, for political reasons, to minimize his own role in the Oppenheimer case, and to emphasize that of the AEC. On December 21, Strauss and AEC General Manager

Kenneth D. Nichols, still hoping to avoid a public 208 confrontation, presented the scientist with the list of charges, informed him that his clearance had been suspended, and suggested that he resign. When Oppenheimer refused, on the grounds that such a course would imply an admission of guilt, the public showdown could no longer be avoided.^ As Eisenhower privately recorded at the time, the

Borden letter, which formed the basis for the AEC ’ s list of charges, presented "little new evidence" that Oppenheimer was disloyal. Most of the charges detailed Oppenheimer’s past associations with known Communists, including his wife, brother, and former mistress, and his involvement in alleged

Communist-front organizations in the 1930s and 1940s. This material had already been reviewed by the AEC, including

Strauss, when Oppenheimer had been cleared to serve on the

General Advisory Committee in 1947. The principal new allegations, based largely on Edward Teller’s secret 1952 testimony to the FBI, questioned why Oppenheimer had moved from supporting the development of the hydrogen bomb in 1945 to opposing it in 1949 on moral, technical, and political grounds. Moreover, the AEC charged that Oppenheimer had continued to oppose the project even after it had been approved "as a matter of national policy," and that he had

"definitely slowed down its development" by persuading

"other outstanding scientists not to work on the hydrogen- bomb project."^ Oppenheimer’s friends believed, with considerable justification, that the scientist was being persecuted for his opinions, and attempted to forestall a formal AEC inquiry. Early in 1954, SAC-ODM submitted a scathing critique of the administration’s personnel security programs, arguing that "political differences of opinion are being used to initiate ’security review’ procedures." The charges against Oppenheimer, in particular, were either

"false or misleading" or were "matters of difference of opinion." Should his clearance be denied, they argued,

"many matters vital to U.S. strength, security and welfare could then no longer be argued on their merits for fear of the subversive label." fil A few weeks later, as the hearing began, many of the nation’s leading scientists publicly expressed confidence in Oppenheimer’s loyalty and judgment.

They also echoed SAC-ODM’s view that current personnel security policies actually undermined national security. As metallurgist Cyril S. Smith put it: "Any action that tends to discourage imaginative scientists from devoting their talents to public service cannot help but do terrible harm to the future security of the country." 62

Such views had little influence on Strauss, who determined to spare no effort to ensure Oppenheimer’s removal. Indeed, the AEC Chairman pursued his quarry so vigorously that one AEC attorney resigned in protest, and later accused him of an "abuse of law." Despite a Justice Department ruling that the AEC’s security program, mandated

by the Atomic Energy Act of 1946, was not subject to

Executive Order 10450, Strauss nevertheless applied the

"Caesar’s Wife" criteria of security to Oppenheimer. He

instructed the AEC’s Personnel Security Board that Oppenheimer should only be cleared if his continued

employment was "clearly consistent with the interests of the

national security." Moreover, Strauss deliberately

recruited a "hanging jury" to hear the case. He selected

Gordon Gray, president of the University of North Carolina and Truman’s Secretary of the Army, to chair the panel.

Although a Democrat, Gray was an ardent Cold Warrior who had supported Eisenhower in 1952 because he felt that Adlai

Stevenson was "soft on communism." The other members of the panel, Thomas A. Morgan, retired chairman of the Sperry

Corporation, a defense contractor, and Ward V. Evans, a conservative Republican and chemist at Loyola University in

Chicago, held equally orthodox Cold War views. Finally,

Strauss used information obtained from FBI electronic surveillance of conversations between Oppenheimer and his counsel to plan AEC strategy in the hearing. S3

With the deck already heavily stacked against him,

Oppenheimer buckled under the masterful cross-examination of

Roger A. Robb, the skilled trial lawyer hired by Strauss to present the AEC’s case. Using classified documents denied to Oppenheimer's counsel, who had not been granted a 211

security clearance in time for the hearing, Robb

successfully portrayed Oppenheimer’s lapses in memory about

events several years earlier as lies and evasions. He

particularly exploited Oppenheimer’s convoluted wartime efforts to warn security officers about the attempted espionage activities of George Eltenton, a suspected Soviet spy, while shielding his friend and one-time Communist

fellow-traveler, Haakon Chevalier, from suspicion. Under

Robb’s relentless probing, Oppenheimer admitted that he had told "a whole fabrication and tissue of lies" to security officers at Los Alamos. Moreover, although Robb presented no evidence that Chevalier was either a Communist or a

Soviet agent, he implied that Oppenheimer’s continued association with his Berkeley friend was somehow suspicious.• • 64

Equally damaging testimony came from many of the

California scientists who had opposed Oppenheimer on the hydrogen bomb issue and had helped oust him from the GAC.

David T. Griggs, former chief scientist of the Air Force, physicist Luis W. Alvarez, a protege of Ernest 0. Lawrence, and chemists Wendell C. Latimer and Kenneth S. Pitzer all cast doubt on Oppenheimer’s motives and judgment. They variously asserted that his support for tactical nuclear weapons and continental defense were subtle ploys to divert resources away from the thermonuclear program, and that he had exerted undue influence over fellow scientists like 212

Conant and Hans A. Bethe to prevent and then delay the hydrogen bomb project.

Most damaging of all, however, was the testimony of

Edward Teller, publicly acclaimed as the "father" of the hydrogen bomb, and an antagonist of Oppenheimer since the war. Teller privately suspected that Oppenheimer was a

Communist, and in earlier confidential interviews with FBI and AEC investigators had stated that Oppenheimer had given

"bad advice" and should be removed from positions of influence. At the hearing, Teller implied that Oppenheimer was a security risk, saying that he "would like to see the vital interests of this country in hands which I understand better and therefore trust more." When specifically asked by Gray whether restoring Oppenheimer’s clearance would endanger the "common defense and security," Teller responded: "If it is a question of wisdom and judgement, as demonstrated by actions since 1945, then I would say one Cg would be wiser not to grant clearance." Such powerful testimony from the leading physicist associated with the AEC carried a great deal of weight with the Gray board, and effectively neutralized positive appraisals from scientists like DuBridge, Rabi, Conant, and Bush.

On May 27, the Gray board unanimously ruled that

Oppenheimer was loyal, but voted two-to-one that he was a

"security risk" and should be denied clearance. Gray and

Morgan cited Oppenheimer’s "continuing associations," 213 particularly his friendship with Chevalier, as evidence of

"a serious disregard for the requirements of the security system." They found his conduct in the hydrogen bomb program "sufficiently disturbing" to raise a doubt as to whether his future participation in the defense program would be "clearly consistent with the national interest."

Finally, the majority expressed concern that Oppenheimer had been "less than candid" in several instances in his testimony before the board. Significantly, Gray and Morgan acknowledged that they might have been able to clear

Oppenheimer had they been allowed "to exercise mature practical judgement without the rigid circumspection of regulations and criteria established for us [by

Strauss]."^

To the surprise of Gray and Morgan, Evans dissented from the majority opinion, leading his colleagues to conclude that he had been "got at" by Chicago area scientists. Evans’ opinion certainly reflected many of the publicly-expressed concerns of the nation’s leading scientists. He argued that Oppenheimer should not be denied clearance based on evidence which had already been considered and disregarded by the AEC in 1947. He also found "absolutely nothing" to indicate that Oppenheimer had hindered development of the H-bomb. Perhaps most importantly, Evans asserted that failure to clear

Oppenheimer would be "a black mark on the escutcheon of our 214 country." Noting that his supporters were "a considerable segment of the scientific backbone of our Nation," he worried about the effect "an improper decision might have on go the scientific development in our country."

While the AEC considered the Gray board's findings, DuBridge and SAC-ODM made one last attempt to assist their embattled colleague by a direct appeal to Strauss. Noting that the Personnel Security Board had not questioned

Oppenheimer’s loyalty or discretion, they urged the AEC to adopt the minority report and restore his clearance. Given

Oppenheimer’s past contributions, they argued, his value for the national security and welfare was "so enormous as to completely overbalance and override the relatively trivial risks" reported by the Gray board. Moreover, such a decision on the part of the Commission would "make scientists generally more willing to serve the government," which would further advance the national security and welfare. Strauss, obviously unhappy with SAC-ODM’s meddling, forwarded a copy of the letter to ODM Director

Flemming, who reassured the Chairman that the scientists had acted on their own initiative and that he considered it

"inappropriate" for ODM to interfere in the AEC’s business., • 69

Eisenhower, meanwhile, remained largely oblivious to the scientists’ concerns. When the full AEC voted four-to- one to deny Oppenheimer clearance, with Princeton physicist 215

Henry D. Smyth, the only scientist among the Commissioners, casting the lone dissenting vote, Eisenhower immediately called Strauss to congratulate him for his handling of "a most delicate situation." In the president’s mind, his administration’s action in the Oppenheimer case "would be such a contrast to McCarthy’s tactics that the American people would immediately see the difference." 70 The president, who had delegated complete responsibility in the matter to Strauss, apparently never realized until much later how badly the hearing had riven the scientific community and shaken the confidence of many scientists in their government. Indeed, Eisenhower never read the Gray board report and depended entirely on Strauss for information in the case, which resulted in him receiving a distorted version of the facts throughout the episode. 71

***

For many leading scientists, the Oppenheimer case represented a serious threat to the evolving partnership between government and science in national security affairs.

Vannevar Bush, the dean of scientific statesmen and an

Eisenhower supporter, went so far as to assert that the partnership "has been gravely damaged and is being gradually destroyed" by the security system. 72 An anonymous member of SAC-ODM reported that the committee had "practically stopped working" because it was "quite impossible to accomplish anything in this atmosphere." Although less 216

pessimistic in tone, GAC member John von Neumann, professor

of mathematics at the Insitute for Advanced Study in

Princeton, and Albert G. Hill, director of MIT’s Lincoln

Laboratory, similarly noted low morale among scientists

generally and a growing sense of reluctance to participate in government research projects essential for national

security. They criticized the current obsession with

"security risks," observing that Executive Order 10450 had

been "poorly drawn ... and made the situation much worse

than it was before." Their solution was to implement a new,

uniform security system that would eliminate repeated

reviews by different agencies and would guarantee legal

rights for all defendants. 73

More generally, most scientists agreed with MIT

president Killian that the "overriding problem" in the

aftermath of the Oppenheimer case was to "reconstruct the

unhappily deteriorated climate of sympathetic understanding

... necessary in the field of science and government."

Oppenheimer, himself, although personally wounded by the

affair, urged his fellow scientists not to "resign or quit

or fuss," but to continue working to preserve and strengthen

the nation in its time of need. Killian made a similar

appeal for "poise and understanding" on the part of

scientists and .engineers. In fact, even before the

Oppenheimer case had reached its tragic denouement, Killian

had already embarked on a major assignment for the 217

Eisenhower administration that would ultimately have a profound impact on the nation’s defense policies and would do much to restore the air of "sympathetic understanding" between science and government that he sought. 74 218

1. Address at New York Republican State Committee Dinner, May 7, 1953, Public Papers of the Presidents: Dwight D. Eisenhower. 1953. 263, [hereafter, Public Papers. 1953 1 .

2. See Gregg Herken, Cardinal Choices: Presidential Science Advising from the Atomic Bomb to SDI (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 77-78.

3. Summary of Meeting No. 12, June 15, 1952, Corapton- Killian Papers, Box 212, folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1952," Institute Archives and Special Collections, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, MA [hereafter MIT].

4. Summaries of Meetings Nos. 13 and 14, September 12, 1952, and November 7-9, 1952, respectively, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 212, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1952," MIT; James B. Conant, Modern Science and Modern Man (New York: Columbia University Press, 1952), 68; Isidor I. Rabi, "The Organization of Scientific Research for Defense," Proceedings of the Academy of Political Science 24 (May 1951): 356-61; Lloyd V. Berkner, "Science and National Strength," Physics Today 6 (July 1953): 9-11

5. DuBridge to Charles A. Thomas, March 19, 1953, White House Office, Office of the Special Assistant of National Security Affairs, Records 1952-1961, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science and Research - General (1), March-April, 1953," Dwight D. Eisenhower Library, Abilene, KS, [hereafter OSANSA, DDEL]; Summary of Meeting No. 14, November 7-9, 1952, Compton- Killian Papers, Box 212, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1952," MIT.

6. DuBridge to Conant, December 1, 1952, Compton- Killian Papers, Box 212, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1952," MIT; Lee A. DuBridge, "Science and Government," Chemical and Engineering News 31 (6 April 1953): 1384-90.

7. Dwight D. Eisenhower, The White House Years: Mandate for Change. 1953-1956 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1963), 114.

8. Eisenhower, Mandate for Change, 133; Louis P. Galambos, ed., The Papers of Dwight David Eisenhower, vol. 13: NATO and the Campaign of 1952 (Baltimore, MD: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1989), 1465-66, [hereafter, Eisenhower Papers] . 219

9. DuBridge to Members and Consultants of SAC-ODM, January 5, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1953," MIT.

10. Report of Recommendations Relative to the National Security Council, March 16, 1953, in U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States. 1952-1954. vol. 2: National Security Policy (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1984), 246-57, [hereafter, FRUS, 1952-54] .

11. Hugh D. Farley to James S. Lay, April 2, 1953, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science and Research - General (1), March-April, 1953," DDEL.

12. Farley to Lay, April 2, 1953; Cutler to Adams, April 10, 1953, in Declassified Documents Reference System (Washington, DC: Carrollton Press, 1976-), 1979-327-B, [hereafter, DDRS].

13. Eisenhower [hereafter, DDE] Diary Note, December 2, 1953, in Robert H. Ferrell, ed., The Eisenhower Diaries (New York: Norton, 1981), 259, [hereafter, Eisenhower Diaries]; Barton J. Bernstein, "In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer," Historical Studies in the Physical Sciences 12 (1982): 205-07.

14. DDE to Swede Hazlett, February 24, 1950, in Robert Griffith, ed., Ike's Letters to a Friend (Lawrence, KS: University Press of Kansas, 1984), 68-75; DDE Diary Note, February 7, 1953, Eisenhower Diaries, 226-27; Memo of Discussion at 134th Meeting NSC, February 25, 1953, FRUS, 1952-54 . 1110-11.

15. Cutler to Thomas, April 11, 1953; Cutler to Farley, April 11, 1953; and Strauss to Cutler, April 23, 1953, in OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science and Research - General (1), March-April, 1953," DDEL.

16. Cutler to Thomas, April 11, 1953; and CIA Acting Assistant Director for Scientific Intelligence to Cutler, April 14, 1953, in OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science and Research - General (1), March-April, 1953," DDEL; DuBridge to SAC Members and Consultants, April 20, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1953," MIT. 220

17. DuBridge to SAC Members and Consultants, May 20, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1.953," MIT; Cutler memo of conference on May 2, 1953; Cutler to Bush, May 6, 1953; and Kyes to Cutler, May 19, 1953, all in OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science and Research - General (2), May 1953-March 1954," DDEL.

18. DuBridge to SAC Members, May 20, 1953, and August 7, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1953," MIT; Isidor I. Rabi, "The President and His Scientific Advisers," in William T. Golden, ed., Science Advice to the President (New York: Pergamon Press, 1980), 21-22; Daniel J. Kevles, "Cold War and Hot Physics: Science, Security, and the American State, 1945-56," Historical Studies in the Physical and Biological Sciences 20 (1990): 259-60.

19. DDE to Alfred M. Gruenther, November 26, 1952, and DDE memo on Subjects to be discussed with Senate Leaders, December 29, 1952, Eisenhower Papers 13:1486-87, 1463-65; DDE Diary Note, May 14, 1953, Eisenhower Diaries, 237; Lovett to Truman, November 18, 1952, in Alice C. Cole, ed., The Department of Defense: Documents on Establishment and Organization. 1944-1978 (Washington, DC: Office of the Secretary of Defense Historical Office, 1978): 115-26; E. Bruce Geelhoed, Charles E. Wilson and Controversy at the Pentagon, 1953-1957 (Detroit, MI: Wayne State University Press, 1979 ) .

20. Compare Wilson’s recommended reforms in Memo of Discussion at 132d Meeting NSC, February 18, 1953, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Papers as President (Ann Whitman File), NSC Series, Box 4, Folder: "132d NSC Meeting," DDEL, with U.S., Congress, Senate, Committee on Armed Services, Report of the Rockefeller Committee on Department of Defense Organization, Committee Print, 83d Cong., 1st sess., 1953, and Special Message to Congress Transmitting Reorganization Plan 6, April 30, 1953, Public Papers. 1953, 225-38. For the concept of "hidden-hand" management, see Fred I. Greenstein, The Hidden-Hand Presidency: Eisenhower as Leader (New York: Basic Books, 1982).

21. DuBridge to Members and Consultants of SAC, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1953," MIT.

22. Rockefeller Report. 1, 10-12; Public Papers. 1953, 230-32; Eisenhower, Mandate for Change. 447-48. 221

23. George D. Lukes to Waterman, November 10, 1953, with attached address by Quarles before the Institute of Industrial Research on October 26, 1953, Records of the National Science Foundation, Office of the Director, Subject. Files, 1951-56, Record Group 307, Box 4, Folder: "Department of Defense - Office of the Assistant Secretary of Defense for R&D," National Archives, Washington, D.C. [hereafter, NSF, Subject Files, NA].

24. Annual Message to Congress on the State of the Union, February 2, 1953, Public Papers. 1953. 19-22. For Eisenhower’s general economic philosophy, see Iwan W. Morgan, Eisenhower Versus "the Spenders": The Eisenhower Administration, the Democrats and the Budget. 1953-60 (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1990), especially 15-23.

25. Dodge to Waterman, May 11, 1953, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science and Research - General (2), May 1953-March 1954," DDEL; Dodge to Smith, April 7, 1953, in U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, Hearings on H. R. 4663, First Independent Offices Appropriations. 1954. 83d Cong., 1st sess., April 1953, 323-24.

26. Dodge memo of meeting on June 9, 1953, dated June 12, 1953, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science and Research - General (2), May 1953-March 1954," DDEL; Lee A. DuBridge, "Physicists in California," Physics Today 6 (March 1953): 6- 9; Lloyd V. Berkner, "University Research and Government Support," Physics Today 7 (January 1954): 10-17.

27. U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee of the Committee on Appropriations, Hearings on Department of Defense Appropriations for 1954, 83d Cong., 1st sess., May- June, 1953, Part 1, 244-47, 481-88, 509; Memo of Discussion at Special Meeting of the NSC, March 31, 1953, FRUS, 19 52-54 2:265; Clifford Grobstein, "Federal Research and Development: Prospects, 1954," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 9 (October 1953): 299-304.

28. Killian to DuBridge (Waterman and Bronk), June 25, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1953," MIT.

29. Dodge memo for Cutler, July 9, 1953, with attached draft orders, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science and Research - General (2), May 1953-March 1954," DDEL. 222

30. DuBridge to Flemming, August 12, 17, and 27, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1953," MIT.

31. DuBridge to Flemming, August 12, 1953; and Waterman to DuBridge, August 18, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan- Oct, 1953," MIT. See also J. Merton England, A Patron for Pure Science: The National Science Foundation’s Formative Years, 1945-57 (Washington, DC: National Science Foundation, 1982), 197-201.

32. Warren Weaver, Chairman Basic Research Group, Research and Development Board, memo for Whitman, June 3, 1953, NSF, Subject Files, Box 17, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1953," NA; DuBridge to Killian, July 29, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1953," MIT; England, Patron for Pure Science, 200-01.

33. DDE to Wilson, May 28, 1953, AWF, Diary Series, Box 3, Folder: "DDE Diary, Dec 1952-July 1953 (2)," DDEL; FRUS. 1952-54 2:538-41, 582, 591.

34. Proposed Executive Order, n.d., Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan- Oct, 1953," MIT.

35. Public Papers. 1954. 155, 335-36. The full text of E.O. 10521 is reprinted in England, Patron for Pure Science. 353-55.

36. James R. Killian, Jr., The Education of a College President: A Memoir (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1985), 71- 76; Gregg Herken, Counsels of War (New York: Oxford University Press, 1987), 60-64; Samuel P. Huntington, The Common Defense: Strategic Programs in National Politics (New York: Columbia University Press, 1961), 329-30.

37. Joseph E. McLean, "Project East River -- Survival in the Atomic Age," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 9 (September 1953): 247-52, 288; Memo by Carlton Savage of the Policy Planning Staff, February 10, 1953, FRUS. 1952-54 2: 231-34.

38. Report by the Panel of Consultants of the Department of State, January 1953, FRUS. 1952-54 2:1057-91.

39. Charles J. V. Murphy, "The Hidden Struggle Behind the H-Bomb," Fortune 47 (May 1953): 109; Lloyd V. Berkner, "Science and Military Power," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 9 (December 1953): 363; "Fortune * s Own ’Operation 223 Candor,’" ibid., 382.

40. Killian, Education of a College President. 64; Killian and Albert G. Hill, "For a Continental Defense," Atlantic Monthly 192 (November 1953): 37-41; J. Robert Oppenheimer, "Atomic Weapons and American Policy," Foreign Affairs (July 1953): 525-35; Berkner, "Science and Military Power," 359-65 .

41. FRUS, 1952-54 2:478; Huntington, Common Defense. 331-32; Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 9 (December 1953): 372-73.

42. FRUS. 1952-54 2:478-79, 482-84.

43. See Memos of Discussion at 160th and 163d Meetings of NSC, August 27, 1953 and September 24, 1953, FRUS. 1952- 54 2:443-55, and 464-76 respectively; DuBridge to SAC Members, August 7, 1953, and DuBridge to Flemming, August 27, 1953, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Jan-Oct, 1953," MIT.

44. FRUS. 1952-54 2:469-71, 475-80.

45. NSC 162/2, Basic National Security Policy, October 30, 1953, FRUS. 1952-54 2:578-98.

46. FRUS. 1952-54 2:615-16; Public Papers. 1954. 117- 21

47. DuBridge to Flemming, January 27, 1954, Compton- Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Nov 53-Feb 54," MIT; FRUS. 1952-54 2:619-20; 626- 27; U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United Sates. 1952-54. vol. 6: Western Europe and Canada (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1986), 2141- 42.

48. Report of the Panel of Consultants on Disarmament, January, 1953, and Memo of Discussion at 134th Meeting NSC, February 25, 1953, FRUS. 1952-54 2:1057-91, 1110-14.

49. Memo of Discussion at 146th Meeting NSC, May 27, 1953, and Strauss to DDE, September 17, 1953, FRUS. 1952-54 2:1169-74, 1219; DDE Diary Note, December 10, 1953, Eisenhower Diaries, 261-62; Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower. vol 2: The President (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1984), 131-34.

50. Public Papers. 1953, 643, 813-22. 224

51. Coral Bell, ed., Survey of International Affairs. 1953 (London, England: Oxford University Press, 1956), 122; McGeorge Bundy, Danger and Survival: Choices About the Bomb in the First Fifty Years (New York: Random House, 1988), 287-95. Bundy served as secretary to the Panel of Consultants on Disarmament and provides an incisive critique of "Operation Candor."

52. DDE Diary Note, December 10, 1953, Eisenhower Diaries, 261-62.

53. For Eisenhower’s anticommunist views, see Jeff Broadwater, Eisenhower and the Anticommunist Crusade (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1992). More general treatments of the anticommunist hysteria of the period can be found in David Caute, The Great Fear: The Anti-Communist Purge Under Truman and Eisenhower (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1978); Stanley I. Kutler, The American Inquisition: Justice and Injustice in the Cold War (New York: 1982); and Richard M. Fried, Nightmare in Red: The McCarthy Era in Perspective (New York: Oxford University Press , 1990 ) .

54. Eisenhower, Mandate for Change. 308-10; Public Papers. 1953. 373-75; Fried, Nightmare in Red. 133; Eleanor Bontecou, "President Eisenhower’s ’Security’ Program," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 9 (July 1953): 215-20.

55. Broadwater, Eisenhower and the Anticommunist Crusade, 138-39; "In the Name of Security," Physics Today 7 (January 1954): 22-24; "The Fort Monmouth Investigations," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 10 (June 1954): 225-26.

56. DuBridge to Flemming, January 24, 1954, Compton- Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Nov 53-Feb 54," MIT; "In the Name of Security," 23-24; "Fort Monmouth Investigations," 225-26.

57. DDE Diary Notes, December 2 and 3, 1956, Eisenhower Diaries. 259-61; DDE to Brownell, December 3, 1953, AWF, Diary Series, Box 4, Folder: "DDE Diary, December 1953 (2)," DDEL; C. D. Jackson to Henry R. Luce, October 12, 1954, C. D. Jackson Papers, Box 66, Folder: "Oppenheimer," DDEL; Borden to Hoover, November 7, 1953, in U.S., Atomic Energy Commission, In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer: Transcript of Hearing before Personnel Security Board and Texts of Principal Letters and Documents (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1971), 837-38 [hereafter, Oppenheimer Hearing 1. The most useful scholarly accounts of the Oppenheimer affair are Philip M. Stern, The Oppenheimer Case: Security on Trial (New York: Harper and Row, 1969); John Major, The Oppenheimer Hearing (New York: Stein and Day, 1971); and 225

Bernstein, "In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer." Eisenhower’s role is critically evaluated in two more recent works: Bundy, Danger and Survival. 305-18; and Broadwater, Eisenhower and the Anticommunist Crusade. 96-105. For Lewis L. Strauss’ role, his inaccurate and self-serving autiobiography, Men and Decisions (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1962) should be supplemented by the even-handed Richard Pfau, No Sacrifice Too Great: The Life of Lewis L. Strauss (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1984 ) . 58. Jackson to Luce, October 12, 1954; FRUS, 1952-54 2:1135-37; Richard G. Hewlett and Jack M. Holl, Atoms for Peace and War, 1953-1961: Eisenhower and the Atomic Energy Commission (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press, 1989), 53, 70.

59. Bernstein, "In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer," 210-14; Jackson to Luce, October 12, 1954; Hagerty Diary Note, April 10, 1954, in Robert H. Ferrell, ed., The Diary of James C. Hagerty: Eisenhower in Mid- Course, 1954-1955 (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1983) .

60. Nichols to Oppenheimer, December 23, 1953, Oppenheimer Hearing, 3-7; DDE Diary Note, December 3, 1953, Eisenhower Diaries. 260-61; Bernstein, "In the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer," 215.

61. Memorandum on Security Problems, January 27, 1954, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Nov 53-Feb 54," MIT.

62. "Scientists Affirm Faith in Oppenheimer," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 10 (May 1954): 188-91; "The Oppenheimer Case," Physics Today 7 (July 1954): 4-7.

63. Harold P. Green, "The Oppenheimer Case: A Study in the Abuse of Law," Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 19 (September 1977): 12-16, 57-61; Bernstein, "Oppenheimer," 217-19; Richard Pfau, No Sacrifice Too Great: The Life of Lewis L. Strauss (Charlottesville: University Press of Virginia, 1984), 158-62.

64. Oppenheimer Hearing. 135-49.

65. Oppenheimer Hearing. 657-60, 698-709, 742-70, 770- 89.

66. Oppenheimer Hearing. 709-27. 226

67. Findings and Recommendation of the Personnel Security Board in the Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer, May 27, 1954, Oppenheimer Hearing. 999-1019.

68. Oppenheimer Hearing. 1021.

69. DuBridge to Strauss, June 4, 1954, and Flemming to Strauss, June 21, 1954, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, June 1954-March 1955 (1)." 70. Hagerty Diary Note, June 29, 1954, Hagerty Diary, 80-81.

71. For Eisenhower’s misunderstanding of the Chevalier affair and the significance of Oppenheimer’s views on the H- bomb, see Hagerty Diary Note, June 1, 1954, Hagerty Diary. 61, and Eisenhower to Conant [not sent], AWF, Diary Series, Box 6, Folder: "DDE Diary, April 1954 (1)." On Eisenhower’s later realization of how the case divided the scientific community, see Killian, Sputniks, Scientists, and Eisenhower: A Memoir of the First Special Assistant to the President for Science and Technology (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1977), 223-24; and DDE Diary Note, October 29, 1957, Eisenhower Diaries, 349.

72. Bush, "If We Alienate Our Scientists," New York Times Magazine, 13 June 1954, 9, 60, 62-67; U.S., Congress, House, Subcommittee of the Committee on Government Operations, Hearings on Organization and Administration of the Military Research and Development Programs. 83d Cong., 2d sess., June 1954, 384, 452, 454-55, 461 [hereafter, Riehlman Hearings] .

73. Riehlman Hearings. 379-84, 408-09, 461.

74. Riehlman Hearings ,• 447; New York Times. 30 June 1954, 1. CHAPTER IV

THE TECHNOLOGICAL CAPABILITIES PANEL AND THE EMERGENCE OF

EISENHOWER'S "SCIENTIFIC-TECHNOLOGICAL ELITE"

The Eisenhower administration’s handling of the

Oppenheimer affair deeply disturbed many of the nation’s leading scientists. In addition to reopening old wounds in the scientific community between the advocates of strategic weaponry and the supporters of a more balanced or even restrained defense policy, the controversy seemed to jeopardize the collaborative partnership between science and government that had been evolving since World War Two.

Vannevar Bush, who had done more than anyone else to integrate science into the national security state, worried that excessive internal security requirements might ultimately destroy the partnership by driving the nation’s best scientists out of government service. For the remaining members of the Science Advisory Committee to the

Office of Defense Mobilization (SAC-ODM), meanwhile, the

Oppenheimer case clearly demonstrated their limited influence within the administration. For the moment, at least, Eisenhower’s commitment to security through secrecy had gained ascendancy over the scientists’ concept of

227 228 security through vigorous research and development.

But contrary to the gloomy predictions of Bush and others, even as the Oppenheimer tragedy unfolded, new developments in the technological arms race offered SAC-ODM the opportunity to play a more assertive role in shaping the administration’s major defense policies. Early in 1954, the prospect of an intercontinental ballistic missile carrying a thermonuclear warhead prompted President Eisenhower to authorize a sweeping study by SAC-ODM of how new technology might be applied to solve national security problems, with particular emphasis on guarding against the possibility of a devastating surprise attack. Under the astute leadership of

MIT president James R. Killian, Jr., the Technological

Capabilities Panel (TCP) of SAC-ODM produced a comprehensive, two-volume report whose major recommendations would directly influence the administration's policies in such areas as ballistic missiles and intelligence gathering for the next several years.

Perhaps equally important, the study fostered greatly improved relations between the Eisenhower administration and the scientists of SAC-ODM. Late in 1955, largely as a result of the impressive TCP exercise, several administration figures collaborated with SAC-ODM to reopen the issue of securing a more permanent channel for independent scientific advice to the Executive Office of the

President. More significantly, when Eisenhower sought a 229 group of prominent private citizens to provide independent oversight of the Central Intelligence Agency, he personally selected Killian to chair the panel. In addition, the president began to contemplate using independent science advisers to adjudicate the growing interservice rivalries over roles and missions and weapons systems. Thus, by the end of Eisenhower’s first term, much of the damage from the

Oppenheimer affair had been mitigated, and the president was beginning to turn to his own "scientific-technoligical elite" for expert advice free of any narrow agency or service viewpoint.

***

With the adoption of NSC 162/2 in October, 1953,

President Eisenhower committed the United States to a defense policy predicated on American superiority in science and technology. While recognizing that the Soviet Union represented a real military threat to the United States and its allies, Eisenhower believed that genuine national security required a healthy economy and sound dollar. He therefore embarked upon a "capital-intensive" defense policy, popularly known as the New Look, designed to achieve

"maximum security at minimum cost," and sustainable by the

American economy over the "long haul." Specifically,

Eisenhower placed new emphasis on "military formations which make maximum use of science and technology in order to minimize numbers in men." This approach necessitated 230 reducing conventional forces in favor of tactical air and sea power, including nuclear weapons, supported by "massive retaliatory striking power." It also required the United

States to "conduct and foster scientific research and development so as to insure superiority in quantity and quality of weapons systems."*

No sooner had the New Look been adopted, however, than several developments seemed to undermine the implicit assumption of American superiority in science, technology, and weaponry. The Russian explosion of a fission-fusion device in August, 1953, while not a "true" thermonuclear device like the American one tested the previous year, nevertheless indicated considerable progress in the Soviet weapons program. Perhaps more disturbing, sketchy technical intelligence reports on Soviet rocketry led at least one prominent Air Force official to conclude early in 1954 that

"the Soviets are significantly ahead of us in the strategic missile field." At about the same time, companion studies by the RAND Corporation and the Air Force’s Strategic

Missiles Evaluation Committee noted that Atomic Energy

Commission progress in miniaturizing thermonuclear warheads now enabled considerable relaxation of the weight, thrust, and accuracy requirements for long-range missiles. In other words, an intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) tipped with a thermonuclear warhead was now technically feasible, and the Soviet Union might already be ahead in developing 231 such a weapon system.^

Trevor Gardner, the young, ascerbic Special Assistant

for Research and Development to Secretary of the Air Force

Harold E. Talbott, found these developments particularly alarming. Although only thirty-seven years old, Gardner already possessed considerable experience as an engineer and

industrial manager, having worked on the wartime atomic bomb project at Caltech before moving on to become vice-president of General Tire and Rubber and then founding his own electronics research firm, Hycon Manufacturing, in Pasadena,

California. Gardner believed that technologically conservative Air Force leaders had too long neglected missile research and development in favor of manned bombers, and he undertook a personal crusade to accelerate the ICBM program. He also worried that if the Soviet Union developed an operational ICBM force ahead of the United States, then the Strategic Air Command's bombers would be vulnerable to a potentially devastating Soviet first-strike. Early in 1954,

Gardner spoke of his concerns to his friend, SAC-ODM chairman Lee DuBridge. In typically blunt language, he told the Caltech president that his committee was not worth "a good goddamn." Instead of wasting their time on "a lot of low-level, shitty exercises," DuBridge's scientists should conduct a study on American vulnerability to surprise attack: "The true story, not that shit Washington is feeding the American people." 232 Gardner’s suggestion prompted DuBridge to call a

special meeting of the Cambridge and New York members of

SAC-ODM, chaired by MIT president James R. Killian, Jr., to

hammer out a concrete proposal for consideration by the full

committee at its next regular session. The scientists’ discussion had a new sense of urgency when they met on March

10, just a few days after the AEC’s 15 megaton BRAVO test

had graphically demonstrated the destructive capacity of

thermonuclear weapons by obliterating Bikini Atoll and

contaminating dozens of Pacific islanders with radioactive

fall-out. All agreed that the advent of "new weapons" would

have profound military and political implications, but

Gardner lamented that "somewhat arbitrary budgetary

ceilings" currently controlled planning in the Department of

Defense. What was needed, he argued, was "an independent

review of new weapons and national strategy," carried out

"quietly by a group including outstanding military officers who can influence their respective services.

Columbia physicist Isidor I. Rabi, who had initially suggested a self-policing moratorium on thermonuclear development as a member of the AEC’s General Advisory

Committee in 1949, believed that the current test series in the Pacific dramatically illustrated the need for a new disarmament initiative. Reiterating his earlier argument against developing the hydrogen bomb, he emphasized that large yield thermonuclear weapons were more than just 233 military weapons because their use would have far-reaching political implications. Even a small number of such weapons used against the United States would "change the nature of government in this country." Moreover, echoing Eisenhower's own concerns about the rise of a "garrison state," he believed that American democratic institutions "could not survive the results of a policy based upon the build-up of armaments over the indefinite future." Therefore, the

United States should immediately reopen disarmament negotiations with the Soviet Union because the ongoing arms race would gradually erode American bargaining power.

Should the Soviets still prove intransigent, then the United

States should consider delivering "some form of ultimatum" 5 to force an agreement.

Despite Rabi’s initial emphasis on disarmament, other committee members focused on the narrower problem of applying science and technology to improving military planning and programs. Gardner argued that accelerating the

American ICBM program, as recommended by the scientists of his Strategic Missiles Evaluation Committee, would greatly strengthen the American deterrent. Albert G. Hill, director of MIT’s Lincoln Laboratory, stressed that the immediate need was to improve air defenses against manned bombers.

Even Rabi conceded that "emphasis should be given to the immediate improvement of our military capabilities."

Eventually, the group agreed to recommend to SAC-ODM the 234 creation of a "full-time, ad hoc study group," composed of

"individuals of judgment from the fields of science, technology, industry, politics, and the military," to study the overall problem of science and national strategy. At the suggestion of MIT physicist Jerrold Zacharias, the group also agreed to seek a meeting with the president and the NSC g to outline its proposals.

The scientists’ suggestion for an independent review of technology and national strategy came at a particularly propitious moment, for President Eisenhower, too, had begun to reconsider the implications of the technological arms race. Indeed, he was deeply affected by the unexpectedly large yield of the BRAVO test, the unanticipated problem of radioactive fall-out, and the adverse international reaction to news that several unfortunate Japanese fishermen had been contaminated. Despite AEC Chairman Strauss' reassurances that "nothing was out of control," Eisenhower publicly, and not altogether inaccurately, admitted that "something must have happened that we have never experienced before, and must have surprised and astonished the [AEC] scientists."

Privately, Eisenhower began to give serious consideration to a proposal first broached by AEC

Commissioner Thomas E. Murray that the United States unilaterally halt its remaining thermonuclear tests, concentrate on producing a diverse stockpile of fission weapons, and seek a negotiated test ban agreement with the 235

Soviet Union. The president saw "no military requirement"

for a bigger bomb than the BRAVO shot, leading him to

question the need for further tests. He also believed that

a mutual test moratorium might serve the dual purpose of

freezing the American advantage in the nuclear arms race and

reassuring America’s allies of her peaceful intentions.

After running into the implacable opposition of Strauss,

Secretary of Defense Wilson, and the Joint Chiefs of Staff,

however, all of whom worried that the Soviets might conduct

clandestine tests and argued that further experimentation

was needed to refine the American weapons stockpile,

Eisenhower quietly dropped the test moratorium idea in

June.®

While nothing came of Eisenhower’s brief flirtation with a nuclear test moratorium, his anxiety over the arms

race and his willingness to explore new initiatives led him

to meet with SAC-ODM on Saturday, March 27, the first ever meeting between the scientists’ committee and the president.

DuBridge briefed Eisenhower on the military implications of

the recent thermonuclear tests in the Pacific, and

reiterated Gardner’s concern that the Soviet Union might already be ahead in the race to develop an intercontinental ballistic missile with a hydrogen bomb warhead. Eisenhower

acknowledged the difficulty of obtaining reliable

intelligence on the capabilities and intentions of a closed

society like the Soviet Union, and admitted that he was 236

"haunted" by the possibility of a "devastating surprise

attack" on the United States.^

According to one participant at the meeting, another

consideration probably also influenced Eisenhower’s

receptivity to SAC-ODM's ideas. Ever since the New Look had been implemented, the individual services had chafed at the

"arbitrary" budget ceilings imposed by Eisenhower and

Secretary of Defense Wilson. As the military budget shrank,

interservice rivalries over roles and missions (and funds!)

escalated. Therefore, when DuBridge and ODM Director

Flemming suggested that the scientists of SAC-ODM conduct a

thorough study of how science and technology might be

applied to reducing the threat of surprise attack,

Eisenhower quickly agreed because he hoped that the group

could "override these rivalries in the Department of Defense and look at the total problem objectively." Specifically,

the independent scientists might help to formulate a

"rational program of weapons development," untainted by

narrow service interests. Eventually, after several months clarifying the terms of reference with the Pentagon, the

CIA, and the AEC, in July Eisenhower formally requested MIT president Killian to "direct a study of the nation’s

technological capabilities to meet some of its current problems.

Killian was, as DuBridge recognized, the logical choice to head SAC-ODM’s Technological Capabilities Panel (TCP), or the "Killian Committee." Although not himself a scientist, he had nevertheless acquired a reputation as an astute administrator of scientists and engineers since assuming the presidency of MIT in 1949. Much like his mentor, Karl T.

Compton, the early architect of a closer government-science partnership in the 1930s, and his friend, Vannevar Bush,

Killian took a broad view of scientists’ social responsibilities, particularly in times of national crisis.

Reflecting the views of many scientists in the postwar period, he spoke of the need to "muster the democratic ranks of American scientists into invincible battalions" for the

Cold War, arguing that the nation's science and engineering schools should be "a powerful fleet-in-being" ready to be

"thrown instantly into action if needed." At the same time, however, he believed that government had a responsibility to recognize the "special nature of science," because the real strength of a nation rested on "all of its resources of creative intelligence." He frequently spoke on behalf of more federal support for basic research, greater incentives for pursuing scientific and technical training, and revised government policies to allow "the freest possible exchange of information" consistent with national security. Perhaps most importantly, Killian believed that the new government- science partnership called for "statesmanship all round."**

During his administration at MIT, Killian amply demonstrated his own qualities of scientific statesmanship. 238 In order to prepare scientific and engineering students for

leadership roles in society, Killian tried to broaden their

outlook by placing greater emphasis on liberal arts

training. As part of his campaign to bring "universities

and corporations into partnership in a mutually beneficial relationship," Killian initiated the Industrial Liaison

Program. Under this scheme, science-based corporations made

grants to support unrestricted research and development at the Institute, while MIT kept the companies informed about

the latest results and promoted technology transfer. Most significantly, however, Killian fostered close ties between

MIT and the military establishment. As president, he oversaw a series of "summer studies," whereby the armed services mobilized the best civilian scientific and engineering talent for ad hoc examinations of pressing military problems. One such exercise, Project Charles, resulted in the creation of MIT's Lincoln Laboratory, a permanent research facility devoted to air defense problems.

Killian, himself, became an outspoken advocate of improved continental defense. Thus, by the time Eisenhower called on his services, Killian had already established himself as an effective statesman of science. 12

After securing a three-month leave of absence from MIT for the fall, Killian quickly set about recruiting "a gifted and experienced group of scientists and engineers" from government, industry, and the universities to examine the 239

problem of reducing American vulnerability to surprise

attack. He exercised overall coordination of the project

through a steering committee, which, in addition to SAC-ODM

chairman DuBridge, included: James B. Fisk, vice-president

of research at Bell Labs; retired Air Force General James H. Doolittle, vice-president of Shell Oil and chairman of the

quasi-governmenta.l National Advisory Committee on

Aeronautics; military historian James P. Baxter of Williams

College; and Massachusetts industrialist Robert C. Sprague,

the NSC’s consultant on continental defense. Three project

teams under the direction of Marshall G. Holloway of Los

Alamos Laboratory, Leland J. Haworth of the Brookhaven

National Laboratory, and Edwin C. Land of the Polaroid

Corporation examined the problems of offensive striking

power, continental defense, and intelligence respectively.

Taken together, the forty-two scientists and engineers who

participated in the TCP study represented the elite of the

nation’s evolving railitary-industrial-scientific complex. 13

Killian and the TCP interpreted their mandate broadly,

examining the problem of surprise attack within the larger

framework of overall offensive and defensive power. During

four months of intense activity, the steering committee and

its project teams conducted over 300 meetings, undertook

field trips to such major military installations as the

headquarters of the Strategic Air Command and the Air

Defense Command, and met with dozens of top government 240 officials from the White House, Pentagon, State Department,

CIA, AEC and other agencies. Despite some resistance from the Air Force, which resented outside meddling and reportedly looked upon the study "with a certain amount of suspicion and indifference," Eisenhower gave the scientists his full support. Special Assistant for National Security

Affairs Robert C. Cutler, a fellow Bostonian, ensured

Killian's access to all relevant information. Eventually, on March 17, 1955, the panel presented its findings,

"Meeting the Threat of Surprise Attack," to the president in a full-dress session of the National Security Council.**

The scientists began by attempting to evaluate the effects of evolving technology on American military strength relative to the Soviet Union over the next decade. They constructed a timetable of expected weapons developments in both countries, and identified four major phases in the arms race. In Period I, the current phase, from late 1954 through early 1955, the United States enjoyed an air-atomic advantage, but was vulnerable to surprise attack because of an incomplete early warning system, inadequate air defenses, and a growing Soviet bomber force. Neither side could launch a "decisive" single air strike against the other, but the United States would be able to mount a sustained air offensive that probably would be "conclusive in a general war." Period II, from 1956-57 through 1958-60, would bring

"a very great offensive advantage" to the United States as a 241

result of the continued build up of long-range bombers and

the deployment of multimegaton weapons, which the Soviet

Union would not yet possess. According to the TCP, American military superiority "may never be so great again,"

therefore the administration should conduct an intensive

study to determine appropriate diplomatic and political

policies to exploit this situation. Period III, from 1958-

60 onward, would be a time of transition, during which the

Soviets would acquire multimegaton weapons and improved

long-range bombers. Still, provided the United States

completed its continental defenses, it would continue to

enjoy an advantage in strategic striking power. Eventually,

though, this phase would give way to Period IV, probably

within ten years, when both countries would possess

sufficient multimegaton weapons and means of delivery to

ensure that an attack by either side would result in mutual destruction. The panel concluded that Period IV was "so

fraught with danger" that the United States "should push all promising technological development" to delay its onset for as long as possible. The scientists also noted that the

ICBM could "profoundly affect the military posture of either country with respect to Period III and Period IV.

Not surprisingly, two of the panel’s most important recommendations concerned missiles. First, the scientists urged the president and NSC to recognize the Air Force’s existing Atlas ICBM program as "a nationally supported 242

effort of highest priority." Given the fact that early

development of an ICBM would furnish "an important increase

in nuclear striking capability" for either side, it was

vital for the United States to achieve such a capability

first. Secondly, working on the assumption that a medium range ballistic missile would be an easier development,

"more certain of success in a shorter time than the

intercontinental version," the TCP recommended that the

Pentagon establish a program to develop an intermediate

range ballistic missile (IRBM) "for strategic bombardment."

The IRBM should have a 1500-mile range and a megaton warhead. While a land-based system would be easier to develop, the panel recognized that a ship-based system would be less vulnerable because of its mobility, would open up more targets in the Soviet Union, and would avoid the political difficulties associated with bases in allied countries. The panel therefore recommended that "both land- basing and ship-basing should be considered." 16

In light of the TCP recommendations, Eisenhower soon authorized an accelerated effort to develop both ICBMs and

IRBMs. While recognizing that the United States needed some ballistic missiles "as a threat and a deterrent," he believed that "a few ... not 1000 or more" would be sufficient because manned bombers would continue to bear primary responsibility for the strategic deterrent. He also emphasized the psychological and political, rather than the 243

purely military, importance of developing such weapons

before the Soviet Union. As a State Department report noted, successful Soviet development of a long-range missile

before the United States would challenge the assumption of

American technological superiority and might cause fissures

in the free world coalition. Finally, mounting Democratic criticism of the New Look in the Senate, where Stuart

Symington (D-MO), Clinton Anderson (D-NM), and Henry Jackson

(D-WA) alleged that the administration had allowed a "bomber gap" to develop and was similarly neglecting missile development, probably also spurred the president to act. 17

Ironically, Eisenhower’s decisions in the missile field fostered the interservice rivalry that he had hoped to circumvent by turning to SAC-ODM in the first place. In

September, 1955, he recognized the Air Force ICBM program as

"a research and development program of the highest priority above all others," and ordered its prosecution "with maximum urgency." Three months later, he elevated the IRBM program to similar status. Eisenhower attached such "enormous psychological and political significance" to achieving missiles "as promptly as possible," that he uncharacterisitcally endorsed parallel ICBM programs, Atlas and Titan, for the Air Force, and two separate IRBM programs, Thor and Jupiter, under Air Force and Army-Navy management respectively. He confessed to "some qualms" about this approach, but apparently hoped that competing 244

programs would stimulate earlier development of an

operational missile. A new Ballistic Missile Committee in

the Office of the Secetary of Defense would attempt to

coordinate the four programs and minimize waste and

10 duplication to the maximum extent possible. The TCP’s recommendations regarding intelligence had an

equally important impact on national policy. Led by

Polaroid president and inventor Edwin C. Land, holder of

more than 150 patents and an "authentic genius" in Killian’s

opinion, the TCP's Intelligence Section focused on the

problem of obtaining hard facts about Soviet intentions and

capabilities. Improved intelligence gathering would provide better strategic warning, minimize the possibility of '

surprise attack, and reduce the danger of grossly

overestimating the Soviet threat. To that end, Land’s panel

recommended the adoption of "a vigorous program for the

extensive use, in many intelligence procedures, of the most

advanced knowledge in science and technology." Although the

specific recommendations in the intelligence portions of the

TCP Report remain classified, and were regarded by

Eisenhower as too sensitive even to be shared with the full

NSC, oral histories indicate that the panel strongly

supported development of a high-flying spy plane and

reconnaissance satellites. 19

While space satellites would have to await the development of suitable boosters from the missile programs, 245 Killian and Land quickly recognized the technical

feasibility of a spy plane, and they alerted Eisenhower to

this concept in a special briefing in November, 1954.

Lockheed designer Clarence L. "Kelly" Johnson had already conceived of a unique airframe with an enormous wingspan

that would allow the aircraft to soar at altitudes over

70,000 feet, then believed to be beyond the range of Soviet

radar, interceptors, and surface-to-air missiles. The aircraft could be equipped with a variety of intelligence- gathering devices, such as cameras, radars, and an electronic intelligence (ELINT) system for intercepting communications signals. Meanwhile, Intelligence Panel members Land and Harvard astronomer James G. Baker designed a suitable camera system for high-level photographic reconnaissance utilizing fast, low-grain film specially produced by Eastman Kodak and a unique lens with a focal length of three feet. As finally conceived, the camera system would be able to photograph swaths of territory 125 miles wide over a range of 2,600 miles, producing high resolution images capable of distinguishing between objects the size of a basketball. Killian and Land recommended that

Eisenhower authorize thirty such aircraft at a total cost of approximately $35 million. 20

The project immediately appealed to Eisenhower, who fully appreciated the difficulty of obtaining hard intelligence data about Soviet military capabilities and 246 intentions. Until this time, aerial reconnaissance operations over the Soviet Union had been limited to infrequent, daring, and occasionally fatal penetrations of

Soviet air space by Air Force or Navy planes, sometimes supplemented by unmanned, high-flying "weather balloons" laden with camera equipment. Neither method had been effective in providing comprehensive coverage of Soviet territory. With rare exceptions, manned aircraft were unable to penetrate more than a few miles into Soviet air space before being driven off or shot down. The balloons, meanwhile, were subject to the vagaries of wind currents and atmospheric conditions. Only a few balloons were ever retrieved, and the photographic images were often unintelligible.21

After asking "many tough questions," Eisenhower approved the construction of thirty U-2 aircraft and authorized Project Aquatone, but stipulated two conditions.

First, he insisted that the Central Intelligence Agency, not the Air Force, have primary•responsibility for the program.

In part, Eisenhower worried that sending American military planes deep into Soviet airspace would be more provoctive than relying on the "civilian" CIA. More importantly, Air

Force intelligence sources had already leaked inaccurate information about the alleged "bomber gap" to press their claims in Congress for increased funding for strategic bombers. By assigning primary responsibility to the CIA, 247

Eisenhower hoped to ensure that the hard intelligence from

U-.2 overflights would receive independent analysis and not be subject to interservice politicking. Secondly,

Eisenhower recognized the political delicacy of the entire operation. He therefore insisted that he be given "one last

look at the plans" before initiating any operations. When the U-2 became operational in the spring of 1956, Eisenhower

00 personally approved every series of overflights.

In addition to its recommendations concerning missiles and intelligence gathering, the TCP outlined a variety of other measures for generally improving continental defenses and securing the strategic deterrent. These included completing the Distant Early Warning (DEW) line as quickly as possible to safeguard against the possibility of a surprise attack by manned bombers, and extending that line seaward to improve coverage. In order to bolster air defenses, the scientists recommended the adoption of nuclear warheads as "the major armament" for air defense forces, thereby ensuring a higher kill-rate against enemy aircraft.

To safeguard against a missile attack, the panel sought

"immediate initiation" of a ballistic missile early warning system, accompanied by a "strong, balanced program of theoretical and experimental investigations" of the basic problems of detecting, intercepting, and destroying incoming missiles. Finally, to reduce the vulnerability of the

Strategic Air Command’s bombers, the TCP recommended the 248

construction of more bases, which would complicate Soviet

targeting and would also enable a larger portion of the

bomber force to get airborne in the event of an enemy

attack. While Eisenhower eventually approved many of these

recommendations over the next 18 months, he saw less need for urgency in these particular areas than in the field of

ballistic missiles or intelligence gathering. 23

Taken together, the TCP recommendations reinforced the

New Look’s emphasis on a capital-intensive, high-tech

defense policy, but they also threatened to undermine the

fiscal integrity of Eisenhower’s program. The scientists,

themselves, never put a price tag on their proposals, but

Secretary of Defense Wilson estimated that the Defense

Department would require $45 billion annually for several years to carry out all of the TCP recommendations in addition to existing programs, a $10 billion increase over current expenditures. Such a figure was obviously out of

the question for Eisenhower, who still adhered to his original goal of stabilizing the defense budget at about $34 billion. Typically, late in 1955, when the NSC considered the Killian Report’s proposals for reducing the vulnerability of SAC’s bombers, he reminded his colleagues that "the Russians too have major problems ... in this whole area" and that there was "a limit on the amount of money that the United States can spend on such improvements." 24

With the exception of missiles and intelligence gathering, 249 Eisenhower refused to be panicked into any "crash" programs,

preferring instead to pursue the more modest approach of

steadily building up the nation’s defenses for the "long

haul."

Eisenhower’s Fiscal Year 1957 Budget, the first to be prepared after the TCP Report, clearly revealed that while

the scientists had succeeded in accelerating some programs

and initiating others, they had not shaken the president’s

fundamental philosophy. Indeed, Eisenhower’s Budget Message

reiterated his commitment to a defense policy for a "long

period of uncertainty," and reaffirmed the New Look’s

primary reliance on "a combination of immediate retaliatory

power and a continental defense program of steadily

increasing effectiveness." Reflecting the TCP’s

recommendations, Eisenhower did call for increased

expenditures for guided missiles, "the highest in our

history," and similarly gave new emphasis to continental defense installations. Ominously, he also noted that the

rising costs of new technology and modern weapons systems would require total defense expenditures for FY 1957 of

$35.5 billion, a significant $1 billion increase over the current year. Nevertheless, allowing for a modest rise in government revenues, Eisenhower still succeeded in proposing nr a balanced budget!

*** The Technological Capabilities Panel not only made

substantive contributions to Eisenhower’s defense programs, but the entire episode also revived discussion over the

relationship between science and the state, and especially

the role of scientists as advisers to the executive branch.

Killian, in particular, received plaudits from fellow scientists and members of the administration for his tactful handling of the study. When DuBridge announced his intention to resign the chairmanship of SAC-ODM, the committee unanimously tried to persuade Killian to take over the post. At the same time, the scientists and ODM Director

Flemming sought to exploit the improved working relationship between SAC-ODM and the administration to elevate the scientists’ committee along the lines originally envisioned by William T. Golden during the Korean War. While nothing came of these efforts during the remainder of Eisenhower’s first term, the president continued to work closely with

Killian. Early in 1956, Eisenhower personally selected

Killian and fellow TCP member Edwin Land to serve on the newly-created and highly sensitive President’s Board of

Consultants on Foreign Intelligence Activities, charged with oversight of the Central Intelligence Agency. He also began to consider using Killian and other scientists to strengthen the hand of the secretary of defense in dealing with interservice rivalries, particularly those involving research and development and new weapons systems. Clearly, 251 the TCP exercise had restored a sense of mutual respect between the administration and the nation's leading scientists, and Eisenhower was beginning to recognize the value of utilizing his own "scientific-technological elite" as a source of impartial technical advice.

From the outset, Killian recognized that the

Technological Capabilities Panel represented an important opportunity to repair some of the damage in government- science relations caused by the Oppenheimer affair. Indeed, as director of the study, he took great pains to ensure such an outcome. During the March 17, 1955, NSC briefing on the

TCP Report, Killian took advantage of the occasion to outline briefly his philosophy of scientific statesmanship.

He hoped that the TCP study might be "a demonstration of how sound working relationships can be achieved between government personnel and civilian scientists," and might foster mutual trust. Contrary to later private remarks about obstructionism from the Air Force, he tactfully went out of his way to praise the "understanding and support" received from every agency. He also reiterated his conviction that "civilians who serve as consultants have a very great responsibility to preserve the amenities and confidences of this relationship [between government and science]." If some of these "intangibile and imponderable results" accrued from the TCP exercise, he believed, then the report might have "a significance beyond its 252 content.

Government officials and scientists alike agreed that

Killian succeeded admirably in his goal of fostering

improved government-science relations and restoring mutual trust. Dillon Anderson, Cutler’s replacement as Special Assistant to the President for National Security Affairs, expressed "great admiration" for Killian and his

"outstanding and patriotic group." ODM Director Flemming similarly lavished praise on Killian for his "outstanding

leadership." Vannevar Bush, who learned of the study through DuBridge, called it "an extraordinarily fine piece of work ... the best job done for government by a group of civilians on a national defense problem," largely because of

Killian’s "fine leadership." Killian, himself, observed

"clear evidence both within government and the scientific community of eased tensions and a renewed sense of confidence and common endeavor." Perhaps most importantly,

Eisenhower personally praised the "splendid contribution" made by the Killian Committee. 27

In addition to Killian’s tactful management of the enterprise, the TCP Report, itself, underscored the vital importance of science and technology for the United States in the Cold War. The timetable of relative American and

Soviet military strength dramatically demonstrated that the nation was engaged in a technological arms race. Under such circumstances, American policymakers had to "constantly seek 253 new technological breakthroughs" in order to achieve

"significant advances in ... military power." If the United

States were to preserve its "superior military strength," or even simply "endure and survive the less favorable state of stalemate," it would have to "maintain a strong program in basic science" along with other policies designed to foster scientific and technological innovation. As the scientists noted, future national security might depend upon weapons and methods "not now imagined but which could evolve out of a vigorous and creative program in pure science, or in other fields of thought."^ These considerations prompted Nelson A. Rockefeller, chair of the President's Advisory Committee on Government

Organization (PACGO) and an original supporter of SAC-ODM’s efforts to secure greater access to the White House, to reopen the issue of science advice to the government.

Following preliminary discussions with representatives from the Bureau of the Budget, the National Science Foundation and the National Research Council, Rockefeller developed serious doubts regarding "the adequacy of our present government organization for science and technology, particularly for the development of science policies." What was needed, he felt, was "a more intensive look at this whole organizational problem," focusing primarily on "the basic needs of the presidency for continuing advice and guidance in the field of national science policy." 254

Rockefeller and ODM Director Flemming agreed that SAC-ODM

was "the logical government body" for such a study, and

DuBridge’s group gratefully seized the opportunity to secure more direct access to the president. 29 ■

Killian readily agreed on the need for "better machinery" both to coordinate federal policies affecting

science and to provide top policymakers with the best scientific advice available. In a series of lectures at

Harvard University Summer School, he suggested that the government develop "a root system which spreads over and draws sustenance from the entire civilian domain of science and technology." Such a system would facilitate "a stream of qualified, knowledgeable civilians moving in and out of government, advising, criticizing ... making available to our government the best thought of the nation."

Specifically, Killian recommended strengthening the

Pentagon’s Weapons Systems Evaluation Group (WSEG), which had consistently failed to attract top-notch civilian scientists, by hiring an outside contractor to provide scientific staff assistance. Secretary of Defense Wilson soon acted on this suggestion by contracting with the

Institute for Defense Analyses, a nonprofit consortium of five universities organized by MIT, for technical support.

More importantly, Killian noted that the full potential of

SAC-ODM had "not been realized" and endorsed the original

Golden proposal for "a Science Advisory Committee appointed 255

by the President and available to the National Security

Council." Such a committee would fulfill the "root" concept

by bringing scientific and technical expertise to bear on

matters of national policy, and by tapping the creative

resources of the scientific community to ensure that the government was kept informed of significant developments. 30

The Science Advisory Committee’s ad hoc panel on

science organization, chaired by MIT physicist Jerrold

Zacahrias, agreed with Killian and Rockefeller that the government was "not now adequately organized" for developing national policies pertaining to science and technology, and considered the problem of providing technical advice to the

NSC "of paramount importance." As a solution, the panel sought to integrate SAC-ODM more thoroughly into the NSC structure and the Executive Office of the President. The chairman of SAC-ODM should be a consultant to the NSC, ensuring that top policy decisions reflected "impartial technical judgments." Similarly, the executive officer of

SAC-ODM should become a member of the NSC Planning Board, thereby providing scientific and technical expertise at the drafting stage of policy documents. The committee, itself, should remain in ODM "for administrative purposes," but should be reconstituted as the "Science Advisory Council of the Executive Office of the President," and be available to all agencies. The panel also proposed developing closer ties with the Pentagon by naming the Assistant Secretary of 256

Defense for Research and Development and the Director of the

WSEG as ex officio members of the committee. Finally, to elevate the status of SAC-ODM, the panel recommended

"presidential appointment" for its members. Taken together, these measures would make the Science Advisory Committee

"more effective in providing scientific and technical advice to the National Security Council." 31

The Zacharias panel’s recommendations quickly won the unanimous support of the scientists and ODM Director

Flemming, but a prolonged succession crisis in SAC-ODM prevented any immediate action. The scientists agreed that, in order to render more useful service to the Executive

Office of the President, their chairman would have to spend

"one-third or more of his time at the job." Incumbent chairman Lee DuBridge, who had to fly in from the West coast for SAC-ODM meetings, admitted that he was unable to devote sufficient time to the committee’s work, and had already decided to resign the chairmanship anyway to make room for a younger colleague. At the December, 1955, SAC-ODM meeting, the committee unanimously urged Killian to take over. As

DuBridge noted, Killian’s leadership of the TCP had established him in a "position of confidence in the government," and brought him into contact with a variety of agencies "in a most friendly and useful manner." Flemming, especially, was "most enthusiastic" about the prospect of

Killian chairing SAC-ODM. Appealing to Killian’s sense of 257 scientific statesmanship, DuBridge argued that, given the

planned reorganization of the science advisory machinery,

the scientists now had "a terribly important opportunity" to

be of service to the nation and "to bring the scientific

world into, at last, a proper relationship to our government. 32

Unfortunately for Killian, the offer came at a

particularly difficult time. Having already taken a three-

month leave of absence from MIT to direct the TCP study,

Killian was reluctant to neglect his presidential duties

once again. More importantly, in the course of 1955,

Killian’s wife, Liz, had suffered three debilitating

strokes. The last, in October, was almost fatal and left

her partially paralyzed. Understandably, Killian cited his

wife’s illness as the main reason for turning down an

appointment that would require him to be absent from

Cambridge for prolonged periods. 33

To further complicate the situation, Killian had

recently accepted another assignment from Eisenhower, as

chairman of the newly-created President’s Board of

Consultants on Foreign Intelligence Activities (PBCFIA).

Recent investigations of the intelligence community by the congressionally-sanctioned Hoover Commission on Government

Organization and by Eisenhower’s own team led by Jimmy

Doolittle, had recommended the appointment of a civilian oversight committee to periodically review and report on 258

foreign intelligence activities. Eisenhower responded by

creating the PBCFIA, in part to undercut demands by liberal

Senator Mike Mansfield (D-MT) for a congressional "watchdog"

committee, which the president worried might result in

legislative meddling in CIA affairs. In addition, building on the TCP experience, Eisenhower clearly recognized the

value of independent evaluations of government programs by

outside experts, and he personally selected two veterans of

the TCP, Killian and Land, to serve on the PBCFIA. Perhaps

equally important, as Killian later noted, intelligence was

"approaching a $1 billion a year operation," leading the cost-conscious Eisenhower to conclude that a careful review was long overdue. Given this new responsibility, Killian

felt compelled to turn down the SAC-ODM chairmanship.^

Killian’s decision initiated a four-month-long debate over who should succeed DuBridge. The Caltech president had hoped to recruit a younger man who could devote the necessary time and energy to leading a reinvigorated committee, but after Killian declined to serve the only other current SAC-ODM member who fit the bill was James B.

Fisk, executive vice-president of Bell Labs. A physicist with considerable experience in both business and government, Fisk had been the AEC’s chief of reactor development, and had served as Killian’s deputy on the TCP study. DuBridge believed that, after Killian, Fisk was the

"outstanding choice" among the younger men, but he was 259

already heavily committed. More importantly, DuBridge

acknowledged that many of the academics on SAC-ODM might be

prejudiced against "an industrial man in this position." As

he delicately put it: "Many of our group would have a

slight preference for a university man in the job."

Eventually, as chair of SAC-ODM's nominating committee,

Killian proposed that Columbia University physicist Isidor

I. Rabi be offered the job. The 1944 Nobel Laureate in

physics for his work on particle rays, Rabi had been the

trouble-shooting associate director of MIT’s Radiation

Laboratory during World War II, had served on the AEC’s

General Advisory Committee (GAC) since its inception, and had been a member of SAC-ODM since 1952. A close friend of

Oppenheimer, Rabi had succeeded him as chair of the GAC, a position he was scheduled to relinquish in July. While hardly the "younger man" that DuBridge desired, Rabi brought a wealth of experience in government-science affairs, had

intimate knowledge of the nuclear weapons program, and commanded great respect among academic scientists. Perhaps equally important, Rabi knew Eisenhower personally from his

Columbia University days, and had established a good rapport with the president ever since their first meeting. On that occasion, Eisenhower had congratulated Rabi on his Nobel

Prize and expressed pleasure in talking to "one of the employees of the university," whereupon Rabi had reportedly drawn himself up to his full five-feet-five-inches and 260

retorted indignantly, "Mr. President, the faculty are not

the employees of the university. They are the university."

Rabi’s frankness apparently impressed Eisenhower, who later

personally persuaded the physicist not to leave Columbia for

a more lucrative position at Princeton’s Institute for Advanced Study.^

After meeting with Killian in Cambridge, Rabi finally

agreed to accept the SAC-ODM chairmanship in June, 1956. He

did so with some reluctance, however, probably because he

had hoped to return to his academic career. Indeed, Rabi

seems to have taken the job on the understanding that he

would serve for "a year or two" until a younger man became

available. Moreover, Killian and Fisk agreed to shoulder

some of the administrative burden by operating as Rabi’s

vice-chairmen. In fact, Arthur Flemming still hoped that

some time in the future, Killian would be able to take over

the chairmanship because he possessed "a quality of

leadership which would prove to be extremely helpful to the

President.

While SAC-ODM’s scientists sorted out their leadership problems, they nevertheless continued to exert some

influence on the Eisenhower administration’s policies

regarding science and technology. In the wake of the TCP

Report’s call for a "strong program in basic science" as a matter of national security, SAC-ODM enthusiastically endorsed NSF Director Alan T. Waterman’s request for 261

increased support for basic research. Eisenhower accepted

the scientists’ contention that basic research was of

"direct importance ... to our defense program," and that it

had been relatively underfunded in the past. He therefore

requested that the FY 1957 NSF appropriation be

"substantially increased" from $16 million to $41 million to

support "meritorious basic research projects," the

construction of special research facilities, and programs to

improve science teaching in schools and colleges. Congress

eventually appropriated some $40 million, a huge proportional increase over FY 1956, and sustained that level

of funding in FY 1958. Clearly, by emphasizing the national

security aspects of science and technology, scientists had

found a useful formula for prying additional funds from an otherwise fiscally conservative administration. 38

The scientists’ influence was also evident in the administration’s revised statement of basic national

security policy, completed in March, 1956. While retaining the fundamental tenets of the New Look, the new document placed increased emphasis on "dynamic research and development," repeating the TCP’s warning that: "Without

increasing effectiveness in the research and development field, U.S. weaponry may in future fall qualitatively behind that of the USSR with concomitant danger to U.S. security."

In order to achieve "a rate of technological advance adequate to serve ... over-all national security 262

objectives," NSC 5602/1 recommended such measures as

motivating more young people to pursue scientific careers

and "strong continuing support by the U.S. Government for

basic and applied research, in proper balance." 39

Eisenhower approved the new statement of policy, but he emphasized that he had no intention of simply plowing more

federal funds into research and development. He accepted

that the federal government should provide support for able

scientific students "if necessity dictated it," but he

rejected the idea of pouring money directly into colleges

and universities because "all too often such funds ended up being diverted to overhead." Similarly, he advocated

improved management and coordination of existing military

research and development programs, rather than seeking

greatly increased appropriations. Under Secretary of

Defense Reuben B. Robertson agreed with the president’s analysis, noting that "additional funds would not have accelerated the completion of the missiles programs.

Despite Eisenhower’s expressed concern for improving the effectiveness of research and development and achieving better coordination, the administration took no action throughout 1956 on the Zacharias panel’s recommendations for revising the science advisory apparatus by elevating the status of SAC-ODM. In part, Eisenhower remained somewhat ambivalent about scientists participating in top policymaking, noting on one occasion that "every new survey 263 of our problems by a scientific team seemed to result in recommendations that we undertake additional things." What he wanted was "a team which would recommend programs which we could dispense with." The delay in selecting a new chairman for SAC-ODM, coupled with the distractions of a presidential election year, also hindered any swift action on the Zacharias panel recommendations.^

While Eisenhower failed to elevate SAC-ODM’s status, he nevertheless continued to enjoy a close working relationship with Killian. In May, 1956, Killian and Fisk briefed the president on the progress being made toward accomplishing the original TCP recommendations, and noted how the recent

Soviet thermonuclear test affected the TCP timetable of relative Soviet and American military strength. As chair of the PBCFIA, Killian also went to Europe in July to monitor the first U-2 overflights of the Soviet Union from a

National Security Agency listening post and to report to the president on the operation. To the surprise and dismay of

CIA officials, Soviet radar picked up the aircraft immediately, indicating a better high-altitude capability than anticipated. The Soviets even sent a confidential letter of protest detailing the exact flight path of the spy plane! Still, Soviet interceptors and surface-to-air missiles could not yet reach the aircraft, and the U-2 began to provide vital hard intelligence on Soviet military installations. 264

Throughout the course of 1956, in fact, Eisenhower’s

continued close working relationship with Killian, coupled

with his growing concern over interservice rivalry,

gradually modified his thinking about the usefulness of

science advisers to the executive branch. Despite his repeated entreaties that the JCS take a "corporate view" of national security problems, the individual services

exploited every public opportunity to criticize the New Look and each other. The advent of guided missiles, in particular, reopened the controversy over roles and missions. The Air Force insisted on sole operational control over long-range missiles in order to fulfill its strategic bombardment role, but the Army and Navy, very much junior partners in the New Look’s allocation of funds, each argued that IRBMs were vital to their own missions and sought to exploit the new technology as a means of securing a greater share of the budgetary pie. Moreover, each service championed its own pet projects as essential for the nation’s security, with little regard for the fiscal consequences. The Air Force emphasized more long-range B-52 bombers and ICBMs, the Navy promoted nuclear-capable carrier task forces and submarines, while the Army advocated tactical nuclear weapons, jet aircraft for close air support, and greater force mobility. Eisenhower’s insistence that the services abandon their "competitive publicity" had little effect. To compound the problem, he 265 reluctantly admitted that in Secretary of Defense Wilson he

had a man "who is frightened to make decisions. I have to make them for him." 43

Such interservice bickering led Eisenhower to conclude

that the JCS system as currently conceived had "failed," and that a major overhaul of the defense establishment would

soon be necessary, including an enhanced role for science

advisers. He began to contemplate "strengthening the

position of the Secretary of Defense and the Chairman of the

JCS, reducing the services to a more operational, less

policy role." As part of this reorganization, he noted that

the secretary of defense would need "a way of getting

disinterested, competent advice." Specifically, Eisenhower

thought in terms of "correlation of scientific groups such

as Killian’s with Defense." The president also liked the

suggestion made by Killian and Fisk that the Office of the

Secretary of Defense adopt a "systems approach" to more

military problems, entailing the development of integrated

programs that ignored traditional service lines of

demarcation. Eisenhower similarly believed that the Joint

Chiefs would benefit from an independent advisory group

"composed of senior officers divorced from service, with a

few scientists added," and capable of taking a broad view of national security problems.^

The administration did not pursue any of these measures

in the waning months of Eisenhower’s first term, but they 266 nevertheless indicated that the president was beginning to reconsider the role of science advisers in his government.

The TCP experience had proven the worth of independent evaluations of major national security programs, and

Killian’s leadership had established him in a position of confidence with the president. By the end of 1956,

Eisenhower clearly understood that establishing his own

"scientific-technolgical elite" might serve as a useful managerial tool for providing objective analyses of competing service projects. By utilizing such experts, the president hoped to strengthen civilian authority in the

Office of the Secretary of Defense over the military services and preserve the fundamentals of the New Look.

When the Soviet Union dramatically demonstrated its own technological capabilities in the fall of 1957 and generated popular clamor in the United States for government action,

Eisenhower exploited the situation to promote his own program for defense reorganization, including the establishment of a science advisory system along the lines suggested by Killian and the Zacharias panel. 267

1. NSC 162/2, October 30, 1953, in U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States. 1952-1954, vol. 2: National Security Policy (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1984), 577-97, [hereafter, FRUS, 1952-54 ] ; Eisenhower (DDE) to Charles E. Wilson, January 5, 1955, m Public Papers of the Presidents: Dwight D. Eisenhower, 1955 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1959), 2-6, [hereafter, Public Papers, 19551. The best overviews of Eisenhower’s New Look are Glenn H. Snyder, "The 'New Look’ of 1953," in Warner R. Schilling, Paul Y. Hammond, and Glenn H. Snyder, Strategy. Politics, and Defense Budgets (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962), 379-524; Samuel P. Huntington, The Common Defense: Strategic Programs in National Politics (New York: Columbia University Press, 1962), 64-106; Douglas A. Kinnard, President Eisenhower and Strategy Management (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 1977), 1-36; and H. W. Brands, "The Age of Vulnerability: Eisenhower and the National Insecurity State," American Historical Review 94 (October 1989): 963-89.

2. Edmund Beard, Developing the ICBM: A Study in Bureaucratic Politics (New York: Columbia University Press, 1976), 153-64; Jacob Neufeld, The Development of Ballistic Missiles in the United States Air Force. 1945-1960 (Washington, DC: Office of Air Force History, 1990), 97- 103. The issue of whether the United States or the Soviet Union first developed a usable hydrogen bomb is still a matter of scholarly debate. Walter A. MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth: A Political History of the Space Age (New York: Basic Books, 1985), argues that the Soviet Union’s use of dry lithium-deuteride in its August 1953 device suggests that they developed a deliverable thermonuclear weapon first. Herbert F. York, The Advisors: Oppenheimer. Teller, and the Superbomb, revised ed., (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1989), argues that the Soviet device was actually a "boosted" fission- fusion weapon whose yield was enhanced by burning a small amount of thermonuclear fuel. The United States had already tested such a weapon in 1951. Although the American MIKE device of November 1952 used liquid deuterium, requiring cumbersome refrigeration equipment and making it unsuitable for weapons purposes, this was nevertheless was a "true" thermonuclear device. The United States exploded its first air-deliverable thermonuclear weapon in March, 1954, whereas the Soviet Union’s first true hydrogen bomb was not tested until November, 1955. Given York’s role in analyzing debris from the 1953 Soviet test, I have followed his interpretation. 268 3. Gardner’s words are from an interview with his military aide, Vincent Ford, cited in Michael R. Beschloss, Mayday: Eisenhower. Khruschev and the U-2 Affair (New York: Harper and Row, 1986), 73-74; Beard, Developing the ICBM. 166-67; Neufeld, Ballistic Missiles, 95-97.

4. Meeting of the Cambridge-New York Group of the Science Advisory Committee, March 10, 1954; Killian to DuBridge, February 9, 1954; DuBridge to Killian, February 11, 1954; DuBridge to SAC Members, February 15, 1954; Killian to Beckler, February 17, 1954; and Piore to DuBridge, March 1, 1954; all in Papers of the MIT President, Karl T. Compton and James R. Killian, Jr., Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Nov 53-Feb 54," Institute Archives and Special Collections, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, MA [hereafter, Compton-Killian Papers, MIT]; Richard G. Hewlett and Jack M. Holl, Atoms for Peace and War, 1953-1961: Eisenhower and the Atomic Energy Commission (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1989), 173-80.

5. Meeting of the Cambridge-New York Group of the Science Advisory Committee, March 10, 1954, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, March-April 54," MIT.

6. Ibid.

7. Public Papers. 1954, 346; John Foster Dulles (JFD) memo of telephone conversation with Strauss, March 29, 1954, John Foster Dulles Papers, Telephone Conversations Series, Box 2, Folder: "Telephone Memos, March 1954-April 30 1954 (2)," Dwight D. Eisenhower Library, Abilene, Kansas [hereafter, JFD Papers, DDEL].

8. Public Papers. 1954, 381-82; Thomas E. Murray, Nuclear Policy for War and Peace (Cleveland,OH: World Publishing Company, 1960), 15-17; JFD memo of conference with the President, April 19, 1954, JFD Papers, White House Memo Series, Box 1, Folder: "Meetings with the President (3)," DDEL. For the internal discussion of the test moratorium idea, see FRUS, 1952-54 2:1423-72.

9. Flemming to DDE, July 9, 1954; and DuBridge to Flemming, July 21, 1954 in Compton-Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, 1954-March 1955," MIT; James R. Killian, Jr., Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower: A Memoir of the First Special Assistant to the President for Science and Technology (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1977), 67-69. 269

10. James R. Killian, Jr. Oral History Interview, Columbia University Oral History Project [hereafter, COHP], DDEL; Report to the President by the Technological Capabilities Panel of the Science Advisory Committee, February 14, 1955, 185 [hereafter, TCP Report], in White House Office, Office of the Staff Secretary, Records 1952-61 [hereafter, OSS], Subject Series, Alphabetical Subseries, Box 16, Folder: "Killian Report-Technological Capabilities Panel, Feb 55-May 56 (1)," DDEL; Beckler memo for SAC Members, June 9, 1954, James R. Killian, Jr. Papers [hereafter, JRK Papers], Box 19, Folder: "PSAC, TCP, 1954- 1955," MIT; Flemming to DDE, July 9, 1954, DuBridge to Flemming, July 21, 1954, and DDE to Killian, July 26, 1954, all in Compton-Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, 1954-March 1955," MIT; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 67-69.

11. James R. Killian, Jr., "The Role of Science in National Security," Three Lectures Delivered at Harvard Summer School, August 8, 9, and 10, 1955, JRK Papers, Box 21, Folder: "Harvard Lectures," MIT; Current Biography. 1959 (New York: H. W. Wilson Company, 1959), 229-31. For a general discussion of scientists’ adherence to a preparedness philosophy, see Michael S. Sherry, Preparing for the Next War: American Plans for Postwar Defense. 1941- 45 (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, 1977), especially Chapter 5.

12. James R. Killian, Jr., The Education of a College President: A Memoir (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1985), 255-57; James R. Killian, Jr., and Albert G. Hill, "For a Continental Defense," Atlantic Monthly 192 (November 1953): 37-41; Henry Etzkowitz, "The Making of an Entrepreneurial University: The Traffic Among MIT, Industry, and the Military, 1860-1960," in Everett Mendelsohn, Merritt Roe Smith, and Peter Weingart, eds., Science. Technology, and the Military (Dordrecht, the Netherlands: Kluwer Academic Publishers, 1988), 515-40.

13. TCP Report, 185-88; Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower, 69-71.

14. TCP Report, v-vi, 185-86; Killian Oral History, COHP, DDEL; Memo of Discussion at 241st Meeting of NSC, March 17, 1955, in U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States. 1955-1957. vol. 19: National Security Policy (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1990), 63-68 [hereafter, FRUS. 1955-57]. Killian erroneously recalls February 14, the date on the TCP Report, as the date of the NSC meeting. See Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 70. 270

15. TCP Report, 10-13; Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower, 71-76.

16. TCP Report, 16, 37-38; Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower, 76-77.

17. Memo of Discussion at 257th Meeting of NSC, August 4, 1955, FRUS. 1955-57 19:95-102; Anderson and Jackson to DDE, June 30, 1955, White House Office, Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs, Records 1952-61 [hereafter OSANSA], NSC Series, Briefing Notes Subseries, Box 13, Folder: "Missiles and Military Space Programs, 1955-61 (4)," DDEL; Congress and the Nation. 1945- 1960 (Washington, DC: Congressional Quarterly Inc., 1961), 285 .

18. DDE to Wilson, December 15, 1955, OSANSA, NSC Series, Briefing Notes Subseries, Box 13, Folder: "Missiles and Military Space Programs, 1955-61 (4)," DDEL; FRUS. 1955- 51 19: 111-22, 154-70.

19. Lay memo for Killian, March 7, 1955, JRK Papers, Box 19, Folder: "PSAC, TCP, 1954-55," MIT; Memo of Discussion at 241st Meeting of NSC, March 17, 1955, FRUS, 1955-57 19:63-65; Killian Oral History, COHP, DDEL; Richard 5. Bissell Oral History, COHP, DDEL; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 79-85.

20. Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 81- 82; William E. Burrows, Deep Black: Space Espionage and National Security (New York: Random House, 1986), 66-73; Thomas S. Powers, The Man Who Kept the Secrets: Richard Helms and the CIA (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1979), 95-96.

21. On early aerial reconnaissance efforts, see W. W. Rostow, Open Skies: Eisenhower's Proposal of July 21. 1955 (Austin: University of Texas Press, 1982), 189-93; Burrows, Deep Black, 59-60; Beschloss, Mayday. 75-79; and John Prados, The Soviet Estimate: U.S. Intelligence Analysis and Russian Military Strength (New York: Dial Press, 1982), 29- 35. See also Dwight D. Eisenhower, The White House Years: Waging Peace. 1956-61 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965), 544-47.

22. Eisenhower, Waging Peace. 544; Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower, 82; Burrows, Deep Black. 70; Beschloss, Mayday, 81-82.

23. TCP Report, 38-43, 68-69; Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower, 77-78. For subsequent NSC actions on Killian Committee recommendations, see FRUS, 1955-57 19:103-08, 358, 361-69. 271

24. FRUS. 1955-57 19:146. 151, 171-72.

25. Public Papers. 1956. 75-76, 93-99.

26. Killian notes for presentation, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, 1954-March 1955," MIT; Memo of Discussion at 241st Meeting of NSC, March 17, 1955, FRUS. 1955-57 19:63-65.

27. Anderson to Killian, August 3, 1955, Compton- Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, April-Dee 1955," MIT; Flemming to Killian, March 31, 1955, and Bush to Killian, March 28, 1955, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, 1954-March 1955," MIT; Killian, "The Role of Science in National Security," August 8, 1955, JRK Papers, Box 21, Folder: "Harvard Lectures," MIT.

28. TCP Report, 13, 33.

29. Rockefeller to Flemming, June 27, 1955, and Flemming to DuBridge, July 5, 1955, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, April-Dee 1955," MIT.

30. Killian, "The Role of Science in National Security," August 9, 1955, JRK Papers, Box 21, Folder: "Harvard Lectures," MIT.

31. Summary of Meeting of an Ad Hoc Group on Science Organization, November 25, 1955, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, April-Dee 1955," MIT; DuBridge to Flemming, February 13, 1956, with attached Report on Government Science Organization for National Security, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, June 1955-February 1957 (2)," DDEL.

32. DuBridge to Killian, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, April-Dee 1955," MIT; DuBridge to Killian, January 19, 1956, Compton- Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1955-Jan 1956," MIT.

33. Killian, Education of a College President, 383-85; Killian to Flemming, February 12, 1956, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Feb- Aug 1956," MIT.

34. Allen Dulles to DDE, November 11, 1955, Goodpaster memo for Record, November 22, 1955, and A. Dulles memo for Sherman Adams, November 30, 1955, all in OSS, Subject 272 Series, Alphabetical Subseries, Box 5, Folder: "Board of Consultants on Foreign Intelligence Activities, Nov 55 (1)," DDEL; DDE to Killian, January 11, 1955, OSS, Subject Series, Alphabetical Subseries, Box 5, Folder: "Board of Consultants, Dec 55-Jan 56 (2)," DDEL; Goodpaster memo of Conference with the President, January 17, 1957, OSS, Subject Series, Alphabetical Subseries, Box 6, Folder: "Board of Consultants, Oct 56-Oct 57 (4)," DDEL; DDE Diary Note, January 24, 1956,in Robert H. Ferrell, ed., The Eisenhower Diaries (New York: Norton, 1981), 312; Stephen E. Ambrose and Richard H. Immerman, Ike’s Spies: Eisenhower and the Espionage Establishment (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1981), 187, 243.

35. DuBridge to Killian, February 28, 1956, Compton- Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Feb-Aug 1956," MIT.

36. Dwight D. Eisenhower, At Ease: Stories I Tell to Friends (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1967), 347-48; John S. Rigden, Rabi: Scientist and Citizen (New York: Basic Books, 1987), 238; Killian to DuBridge, May 4, 1956, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Feb-Aug 1956," MIT.

37. Flemming to Killian, March 5, 1956; Killian to DuBridge, May 4, 1956; DuBridge to Killian, May 8, 1956; Killian to DuBridge, May 29, 1956; and DuBridge to Killian, June 5, 1956, all in Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Feb-Aug 1956," MIT.

38. Public Papers. 1956. 122-23; J. Merton England, A Patron for Pure Science: The National Science Foundation’s Formative Years, 1945-57 (Washington, DC: National Science Foundation, 1982), 216-17; DuBridge to Flemming, October 13, 1955, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 214, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, TCP, April-Dee 1955," MIT.

39. Basic National Security Policy, NSC 5602/1, March 15, 1956, FRUS. 1955-57 19:244-57.

40. Memos of Discussion at 277th and 278th Meetings of NSC, February 27, 1956, and March 1, 1956 respectively, FRUS. 1955-57 19:201-33.

41. Memo of Discussion at the 299th Meeting of the NSC, October 4, 1956, FRUS. 1955-57 19:366-68.

42. Killian to DuBridge, May 29, 1956, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, Feb- Aug 1956," MIT; JFD to DDE, July 17, 1956, with attached Soviet protest note of July 10, 1956, JFD Papers, White 273

House Memo Series, Box 3, Folder: "White House Correspondence - General 1956 (3)," DDEL; DDE telephine call to JFD, May 17, 1956, AWF, Diary Series, Box 15, Folder: "May 56 Phone Calls," DDEL; FRUS. 1955-57 19:301-05; Burrows, Deep Black, 76-77.

43. DDE telephone call to Humphrey, December 7, 1956, AWF, Diary Series, Box 20, Folder: "Dec 56 Phone Calls," DDEL; FRUS. 1955-57 19:276-83, 285-90, 292-93, 311-15.

44. FRUS. 1955-57 19:301-05, 315. CHAPTER V

THE SPUTNIK CRISIS AND THE FORMALIZATION OF SCIENCE ADVICE

AT THE WHITE HOUSE

The Technological Capabilities Panel played an

important role in precipitating something of a rapprochement in government-science relations in the aftermath of the

Oppenheimer affair. Under the expert leadership of James R.

Killian, Jr., the scientists of SAC-ODM demonstrated their value to President Eisenhower as a mechanism for providing independent, technical reviews of national security policies and programs. Killian, in particular, emerged as a leading statesman of science who enjoyed both the respect of his colleagues and the confidence of the president.

Unfortunately, the prolonged succession crisis within the committee, along with the distractions of election year politics and serious international crises in Hungary and

Egypt, temporarily stalled the momentum toward a closer working relationship between Eisenhower and the scientists.

Still, new SAC-ODM chairman Isidor I. Rabi and his committee remained hopeful that the president would soon call on their services and perhaps implement their longstanding goal of a science advisory committee located in the Executive Office

274 275

of the President.

During the first few months of Eisenhower’s second

term, however, the scientists experienced an uneasy feeling

of de.ja vu. Having reluctantly agreed to stabilize the

military budget at $38 billion for Fiscal Year 1958, some $4 billion higher than the original New Look figure, Eisenhower

soon found himself caught between the Scylla of rising costs

and the Charybdis of a curiously economy-minded Congress.

Under intense pressure from the Bureau of the Budget and the

Treasury Department, Secretary of Defense Charles E. Wilson

scrambled to find economies by reducing manpower, cutting

force strength, and closing installations. To the dismay of

SAC-ODM, basic research in the Department of Defense again

seemed to be in jeopardy, and the scientists worked closely with NSF Director Alan T. Waterman to reminded the president of the importance of diverse sources of federal support for scientific research. They also worried that Wilson’s decision to consolidate the assistant secretaryships for research and development and applications engineering into a single "assistant secretary for research and engineering" would further endanger basic research.

The Soviet Union’s successful orbiting of two artificial earth satellites in the fall of 1957 suddenly changed the political context. The Soviet achievement shocked and surprised many Americans, who had complacently assumed that the United States enjoyed unquestioned 276

scientific and technological leadership in the Cold War.

Now, political leaders and commentators made gloomy

assessments of American science and technology and cast

about for scapegoats. Many attributed the shortcomings in

the American space and missile programs to Eisenhower's

fiscal conservatism. Others emphasized wasteful

interservice rivalry and poor management of the nation’s

military research and development programs. As public

pressure for decisive action mounted, Eisenhower, fearing

for his New Look defense policies, turned to the nation’s

scientific elite for advice. He eventually appointed

Killian as Special Assistant for Science and Technology and

elevated SAC-ODM to the White House as the President’s

Science Advisory Committee (PSAC). Such a move, he hoped,

would reassure the nation that the president was receiving

the best scientific advice available. He also intended to

use the scientists as impartial adjudicators of interservice

disputes over military technology, roles, and missions. In

short, the Sputnik crisis served as the required catalyst

for the creation of a presidential science advisory system

along the lines first suggested by William T. Golden in

1951.

***

In the early months of Eisenhower’s second term, despite the success of the Technological Capabilities Panel and the selection of the president’s old Columbia University colleague Isidor I. Rabi to chair SAC-ODM, relations between

President Eisenhower and the scientists' committee remained somewhat cool. Initially, Rabi and his colleagues hoped to

secure another major assignment from the White House along the lines of the TCP project, taking into account the most recent Soviet advances in thermonuclear weapons and long- range delivery systems. Eisenhower, however, became preoccupied with economic concerns, especially the fact that creeping inflation was raising the rate of government spending and threatening to bust the military budget. At the same time, congressional leaders demanded significant reductions in the administration’s $38 billion request for

FY 1958. Fearing that another TCP review would result in recommendations for more government expenditures, Eisenhower used his close advisers to rebuff the scientists. Indeed, as the administration sought to cut costs wherever possible, the scientists suddenly found themselves on the defensive, being asked to justify federal support of basic research and to explain why the Defense Department should be involved in such activity at all. By the fall of 1957, relations between SAC-ODM and the administration seemed to have taken a backward step.

Shortly after Eisenhower’s overwhelming re-election in the fall of 1956, Rabi and SAC-ODM informed outgoing ODM

Director Arthur Flemming that they saw an "urgent need for a comprehensive study of weapons developments in relation to 278

national security." Several recent developments troubled

the scientists. The Soviet Union’s thermonuclear test of

November, 1955, coupled with evidence of an improvement in

long-range bomber capability and continuing progress in rocketry, seemed to call for a re-examination of the Killian

timetable. In addition, a recent MIT report on Soviet scientific and technical education indicated that the Soviet

Union was now outstripping the United States in the production of scientists and engineers. Rabi concluded that

it was now "questionable" whether the United States enjoyed

"meaningful technological superiority over the USSR." Given the limitations on American resources and the rising costs of new weapons and force modernization, "difficult decisions" on relative emphasis would have to be made in the near future. The committee therefore recommended "a special study of weapons developments in relation to our long-term national security objectives." Much like the TCP exercise, the scientists envisioned an ad hoc study group drawn from the fields of science, technology, industry, economics, the military, and international affairs.^

Eisenhower certainly appreciated the problems of selectivity and rising costs. At the end of December, the president reluctantly approved a defense budget request for new obligational authority of $38.3 billion in FY 1958, some

$4 billion higher than the original New Look target. Even so, the military chiefs all felt aggrieved that they had 279

been forced to slice a whopping $10 billion from their

initial requests. As the president candidly admitted in

his budget message, increased reliance on the most advanced

weaponry was becoming an expensive business, particularly as

the military was simultaneously engaged in the development of "a whole new family" of missiles. Nevertheless, true to

his "long haul" philosophy, Eisenhower reminded the American

people that "future defense costs must be held to reasonable

levels." Privately, he told the National Security Council

that, barring any unforeseen emergency, he did not intend to

request new obligational authority for the defense budget above $39 billion for the remainder of his term.

Given the president's concern about rising defense expenditures and the need for greater selectivity in military programs, the scientists of SAC-ODM might have anticipated a favorable response to their proposal, but administration officials equivocated. When David Z.

Beckler, SAC-ODM’s executive officer, met with Flemming,

incoming ODM Director Gordon Gray, and newly-reappointed

Special Assistant for National Security Affairs Robert

Cutler, to discuss the proposed study, he ran into a series of rationalizations for not pursuing the project. Cutler argued that Rabi’s letter needed "a clearer definition in lay language" of what the study would entail. He also noted that the timing was poor. The current review of basic national security policy was "in mid stream," and would have 280 to be completed before any further study could be

undertaken. In addition, Secretary Wilson, the arch nemesis

of the scientists, would soon be leaving office, therefore

postponing the project might eventually ensure a more

favorable reaction in the Pentagon. Gray similarly stressed

the importance of first securing support from the Defense

Department and the Atomic Energy Commission before

approaching the president. He noted the "unfavorable

regard" with which continental defense consultant Robert

Sprague was held in the Pentagon because "every time there was an outside ’survey’ it resulted in increased expenditures.

In fact, Gray’s remark closely corresponded with the president’s own feelings. When Cutler briefed Eisenhower on the Rabi proposal and the meeting with Beckler, the president indicated that "he wanted to go very slow on letting any more scientists 'into the act.’" With a wry smile, Eisenhower observed that he was "still living with the prior scientific appraisal [the TCP Report]." The problem, he believed, was that every time the scientists looked into a matter, "their exact minds required them to come to a very finite conclusion which inevitably added up to a great expenditure of money." Although Eisenhower agreed to meet with SAC-ODM at the end of March, Gray made it clear that the scientists should not present "anything specific" at that time. Rabi and SAC-ODM agreed, meanwhile 281 assigning Killian the task of redrafting the study proposal

"in lay terms."*

Shortly before the scheduled meeting between Eisenhower and the scientists, however, a somewhat different issue suddenly demanded their attention. In February, 1957, Secretary Wilson consolidated the assistant secretaryships for research and development and applications engineering into a single assistant secretary of defense for research and engineering. Such an action had been recommended by both the Hoover Commission and the affected assistant secretaries as a means of rationalizing the management of the Pentagon's burgeoning research and development program.

What most troubled SAC-ODM and other scientists was the fact that Wilson selected Frank D. Newbury, an aging production engineer from the Westinghouse Corporation and previously the assistant secretary for applications engineering, to fill the new post. Much like Wilson, Newbury shared the industrialist's prejudice against academic scientists as impractical and ignorant of the requirements of manufacturing. Newbury’s appointment stunned Clifford C.

Furnas, the assistant secretary for research and development and chancellor of the University of Buffalo, who had been led to believe that he would be offered the new position.

Privately, he claimed that he had been "double-crossed" by

Wilson and Newbury. He also protested to Wilson "as much as humanly possible against Mr. Newbury being the head." 282

Disclaiming any personal animosity, Furnas argued that

Newbury was "completely incompetent to be guiding the research and early development aspects of the national military program.

As the scientists of SAC-ODM recognized, these changes in the Pentagon represented the continuation of a conflict between what Furnas called the "research and development approach" and the "production psychology." Furnas and SAC-

ODM strongly believed that the military research and development program should be oriented toward innovative research and the creation of completely new weapons systems.

It should also include a significant commitment to basic research, which might ultimately result in revolutionary breakthroughs in military technology. Wilson and Newbury, however, wanted the Pentagon to concentrate on perfecting existing weapons systems and standardizing them for mass production. Moreover, Wilson still believed that the

Defense Department should refrain from sponsoring basic research that had no immediate military value. Given

Wilson’s attitude toward basic research, his appointment of the like-minded Newbury, and mounting congressional pressure to slash the administration’s defense budget request, SAC-

ODM assumed it would only be a matter of time before basic research in the Pentagon fell victim to the administration’s cost-cutting axe. 283 Rabi and his colleagues expressed their concerns directly to the president during their March 29 meeting in the White House. Rabi pointed out that rising costs had actually reduced Defense support for basic research in real terms in recent years. He also complained that the Pentagon was developing "a narrow focus on specific weapons systems, as against a search for basic information which might have application across the board." While agreeing with

Eisenhower that there was much "duplication" and

"irrelevance" in current programs, he argued that most of the problem lay in the development field. Basic research required relatively modest funds, and should be "one of the last places to try to economize." Killian and Land agreed, noting that the most successful industrial firms were often the ones with vigorous research programs. Lloyd V. Berkner, meanwhile, reiterated the familiar refrain of academic scientists that current defense research was "exhausting the store of basic ideas," and that the Pentagon should therefore foster more pure research to make further deposits in the bank of fundamental knowledge.

To the dismay of the scientists, Eisenhower did not appear to be immediately receptive to their arguments.

Having just held an NSC meeting in which Chairman of the

Council of Economic Advisers Raymond J. Saulnier had characterized the budgetary outlook for the next three years as "grim," and Budget Director Percival F. Brundage had 284

warned that simply maintaining current defense programs

would entail huge additional expenditures in the next few

years, Eisenhower was in no mood to consider further defense

outlays. No doubt recalling Secretary Wilson’s lamentations

about how civilian wage increases and price rises were

already pushing up defense spending, he questioned whether

"all of this basic research belongs in the Defense

Department -- since it has a wider purpose than weapons

alone." He also reopened the entire issue of federal

support for basic research, asking the scientists to provide

a "set of simple yard sticks" to help him determine the

0 appropriate level of government responsibility.

Throughout the spring and summer of 1957, SAC-ODM put

its proposed study of new weapons and national security on

hold in order to undertake the new presidential assignment.

Eisenhower specifically asked the committee to explain why

the Defense Department should engage in non-military basic research, why Pentagon basic research activities should not be transferred to the National Science Foundation, and why private sources of support could not take over an increasing amount of basic research currently funded by the government.

Recognizing that the administration might be on the verge of reviving its 1953 proposals to eliminate basic research in the Defense Department and to centralize all such activity

in the NSF, the scientists set about their task with a sense of urgency. Rabi assigned drafting responsibilities to 285

Technological Capabilities Panel veterans Killian, Land, and

James B. Fisk, along with Emmanuel R. Piore, formerly chief

of the Office of Naval Research and now director of research

for International Business Machines. Clearly, Rabi hoped

that a strong statement in support of basic research by such respected individuals would have the desired effect of

deterring the administration from undertaking any radical q changes in the federal research and development program.

The Science Advisory Committee’s statement, completed

in July, presented a resounding reaffirmation of the

importance of federally-funded basic research. Taking a

leaf out of the Bush Report, the scientists noted that "now

more than at any other time in its history," the United

States depended on new scientific knowledge "for the welfare

of its people, for the advancement of its economy and for

its military strength." Under such circumstances, the

federal government had "no choice" but to ensure that basic

research was "vigorously pushed." The future strength of

American society would be dependent on the "vigor of our basic research today and tomorrow." While some of this

research might be supported by the private sector, and might be encouraged by federal tax policies, the scientists concluded that the nation had reached a "point of no return" in government-supported basic research. Neither the universities and private foundations, nor industry had sufficient resources to assume the entire burden of the 286 nation's basic research effort, now estimated at some $600 million annually.*®

The scientists made a similarly strong case for continued Defense support of basic research. Modern weapons, they noted, were "constantly pushing on the frontiers of our scientific knowledge," meaning that military superiority was becoming dependent on overall scientific strength. For these reasons, it was "vitally important" for the military services to be "au courant with every aspect of civilian science which is conceivably useful for military purposes." Moreover, the military services should develop close contacts with civilian scientists "not only for the information and developments it fsic1 may obtain from them but also to maintain at all times a strong scientific reserve," capable of rapid mobilization in the event of an emergency. An understanding of military requirements, meanwhile, would help civilian scientists to appreciate the military importance of scientific developments and to bring them to the attention of the military. For these reasons, it would be "military folly to depend wholly upon other agencies" to conduct basic scientific research.**

The scientists also made a forceful argument for preserving diverse sources of federal support for basic research, rather than centralizing the function in a single agency, such as the NSF. Diversification ensured each 287

agency the ability to support research relevant to its own

mission. It also broadened the base of federal support for

basic research, thereby insulating the activity from the

effect of budgetary cuts in any one particular agency. Most

importantly, the scientists strongly believed that "no one agency can possibly have wisdom enough to manage the government’s total program of basic research." Any effort

to do so might result in a "dangerous" bureaucratic control of science. Only a diverse base of federal support could

safeguard academic freedom and ensure continued scientific progress.12

The scientists concluded with a four-point program for bolstering the nation’s basic research activity. First,

they called on the president to "reaffirm the importance to our national security position ... of basic scientific research." Specifically, they wanted a special presidential directive to the Defense Department to "reverse a trend of thought" there that had allowed basic research to lapse.

Secondly, the scientists recommended against consolidating all basic research in one agency. Next, in order to stimulate the overall national program of basic research,

Rabi’s group called for both "a modest increase" in federal funding, possibly to be obtained by eliminating obsolete development programs. Finally, the scientists urged a government-wide publicity campaign to encourage increased private sector support. 13 288

The Science Advisory Committee’s efforts appeared to bear fruit at a Cabinet meeting on August 2, only to be overwhelmed by an economy wave in the Pentagon shortly thereafter. At the Cabinet meeting, armed with SAC-ODM’s paper, NSF Director Alan T. Waterman successfully fended off

BOB efforts to achieve economies by centralizing support of basic research. Moreover, the approved Cabinet paper acknowledged that basic research was important "to our national security as well as to our national welfare," and recommended that agencies continue their support at existing levels. Within a few days, however, Secretary Wilson violated the new guidelines. Noting that inflation had increased defense costs by "as much as 5%, or $2 billion, over the last year," Wilson took a series of drastic measures to hold expenditures to the authorized $38 billion level. On August 17, as part of this economy drive, he ordered the services to cut their research and development outlays by ten per cent. Not surprisingly, such abrupt action caused havoc in numerous basic research projects and provoked outrage in the scientific community. Clearly, despite the best efforts of Rabi, Waterman, and others, by the late summer of 1957, the Eisenhower administration’s commitment to federal support for basic research still seemed to be rather uncertain.^

*** 289

Within a few weeks of Wilson’s controversial decision

to slash military research and development expenditures, the

political context changed dramatically. The Soviet Union’s

launch of Sputnik I on October 4, 1957, came as an

unpleasant surprise to many Americans and shattered their complacent assumption of American superiority in science and

technology. In Congress, the bipartisan consensus for

fiscal responsibility that had recently resulted in a $5

billion reduction in the administration’s FY 1958 military

budget request quickly evaporated. Democrats sensed an

opportunity to challenge Eisenhower’s leadership on defense

matters, and presidential hopefuls like Senators Lyndon B.

Johnson (D-TX), Stuart Symington (D-MO) and John F. Kennedy

(D-MA) began to maneuver for position in the 1960 election.

The military services similarly saw a chance to break free

of the restrictive New Look budgetary ceilings. Under these

circumstances, the president turned to SAC-ODM for

assistance, finally creating the sort of presidential

science advisory mechanism that the scientists had been

advocating since the Korean War.

Sputnik I did not come as a complete surprise to the

Eisenhower administration. Both the Soviet Union and the

United States had undertaken to launch artificial earth

satellites as part of the International Geophysical Year

(IGY), a cooperative scientific endeavor sponsored by the

International Council of Scientific Unions. In addition, 290

the Soviets had recently announced the successful flight

test of an intercontinental ballisitic missile (ICBM) on

August 27, indicating that they probably already possessed

the capability to put a satellite into orbit. Moreover,

hard intelligence gathered from U-2 overflights of the

Soviet Union and from the National Security Agency’s long-

range tracking radars based in Turkey provided independent

confirmation of Soviet progress in rocketry. 15

What did surprise the president was the fact that he

had seriously underestimated the profound psychological

impact that such a Soviet achievement might have on American

public opinion. As early as 1955, psychological warfare

expert Nelson A. Rockefeller had warned that early

achievement of a scientific satellite would "symbolize

scientific and technological advancement to peoples

everywhere," making this "a race that we cannot afford to

lose." Eisenhower, however, had downplayed this factor and

had insisted that the United States not get into a space

race with the Soviet Union. In addition, as part of his

commitment to international scientific cooperation, he

deliberately chose to make the American IGY satellite

project a civilian endeavor. Not only would this

demonstrate to the world the peaceful nature of the American

space program, but a small scientific satellite launched

under international auspices might also establish the principle of "freedom of space," thereby smoothing the way 291

for the military reconnaissance satellites already under

consideration. The administration therefore selected the

privately-produced Viking rocket, rather than the Army’s

more powerful Jupiter, to be the satellite booster for

Project Vanguard. Unfortunately, a combination of technical difficulties with the Viking and the low priority afforded

the "civilian" satellite project in the Defense Department

enabled the Soviet Union to achieve a dramatic psychological Jg victory, just as Rockefeller had anticipated.

In the days following Sputnik I, public officials and

the press struggled to understand the significance of the

Soviet satellite. A few agreed with Senator Alexander Wiley

(R-WI) that Sputnik should be "nothing to worry us," but

most viewed the Russian satellite as an alarm call for

American science and technology, particularly in the area of

missiles and satellites. Senator Symington, most recently

the administration’s chief protagonist in the "bomber gap"

controversy, warned that Sputnik indicated a dangerous

Soviet lead in long-range missile technology and called for

an emergency session of Congress. He and Senator Henry S.

Jackson (D-WA) blamed the administration’s misguided

commitment to fiscally conservative principles for the

American lag in missile and space technology. Senator Mike

Mansfield (D-MT) viewed Sputnik as a symptom of poor scientific and technical education at home, and advocated

federal support of scientiifc talent at the high school 292

level. Even Republicans expressed deep concern. Senate

Minority Leader William F. Knowland (R-CA) called for a

"complete review" of missile and satellite programs, while

Senator Jacob K. Javits (R-NY) urged an acceleration of the

entire defense program and a "Manhattan Project" for missiles.17

Various press reports and editorials added to the clamor for some sort of decisive action on the part of the

administration. Newsweek characterized the Soviet feat as a

"mortal challenge" to the free world, and insisted that the

United States must "respond in kind." The New York Times speculated that the Soviet Union probably already possessed an ICBM capability and would soon be able to threaten

American cities with annihilation. Edward Teller's observation that the United States had "lost a battle more important and greater than Pearl Harbor," received widespread coverage, as did his warning that if the Soviets passed the United States in technology, "there is little doubt who will determine the future of the world." Henry R.

Luce’s Life magazine, normally supportive of the Eisenhower administration, agreed that Sputnik was a clear "defeat for the United States," and prescribed an agenda for action.

Echoing the concerns of many scientists, it called on the nation to revise its "naive attitude" toward basic research, to give "much more aid" to scientific and technical training, and to "change our public attitude toward science 293

and scientists."*®

Recognizing that the growing public demands for action

might jeopardize his "long haul" defense policies,

Eisenhower and his top officials undertook a deliberate

campaign to reassure the nation. After swearing in new Secretary of Defense Neil H. McElroy on October 9,

Eisenhower called on the service chiefs and civilian

secretaries to toe the line by declining to comment on

Sputnik. Later that same day, after consulting with

National Academy of Sciences president Detlev W. Bronk and

NSF Director Waterman, Eisenhower used his press conference

to congratulate the Soviets on their technical achievement, but explained that the United States had never been engaged

in a "race" to launch the first earth satellite. He also

stressed that Project Vanguard had no connection with the

military missile programs, which were proceeding apace.

When asked whether Sputnik raised his concerns over national

security, the president replied "not one iota." Other administration figures followed Eisenhower’s lead. Outgoing

Defense Secretary Wilson referred to Sputnik as a "neat

scientific trick," while Governor Sherman Adams declared

that the United States was not attempting "high score in a celestial basketball game." Unfortunately, such public

statements seemed to reinforce the perception that

Eisenhower was out of touch and that the administration’s obsession with balanced budgets had weakened national 294

security. Without access to the hard intelligence data

about the Soviet missile program that was available to the president, few people felt reassured.^

The military services compounded the president’s

difficulties by engaging in exactly the sort of bickering Eisenhower had asked them to avoid, fueling the mounting

criticism that interservice rivalry had delayed progress in

the missile and satellite programs. Two Array generals claimed that their Redstone missile could have launched an

earth satellite any time in 1957, and that the Navy had botched Project Vanguard. The Army and the Air Force each claimed that its own intermediate range ballistic missile

(IRBM), Jupiter and Thor respectively, would achieve the earliest operational capability, and that the other service’s project ought to be scrapped. A similar conflict erupted over the proposed anti-missile missile, which had initially been assigned to the Army, when the Air Force came up with its own project. Meanwhile, both Army and Navy officials complained that, under Eisenhower, the Air Force was "running the Pentagon." A frustrated Eisenhower cautioned the Pentagon’s Director of Guided Missiles,

William M. Holaday, to "watch this problem of interservice rivalry all the time," suggesting that he might have to

"resort to a Manhattan District approach for the achievement of the objectives of our ballistic missiles program."

Nevertheless, with the services sensing the prospect of 295

increased funding from Congress, the administration found it virtually impossible to gag them-and their advocates. 20

Not surprisingly, as pressure on his administration’s programs mounted, Eisenhower turned to his scientists for

impartial advice. Academy president Bronk and NSF Director Waterman assisted the president in preparing for his first post-Sputnik press conference. At Bronk’s suggestion,

Eisenhower also convened a full-dress meeting of the Science

Advisory Committee the next week. Unlike the earlier session in March, Eisenhower earnestly courted the views of the committee, while the scientists, recognizing the changed political reality, took advantage of the occasion to press their own agenda on the president. 21

At the October 15 White House meeting, Eisenhower asked the scientists whether they agreed with the gloomy assessments that American science was being "outdistanced" by the Soviets. The committee agreed that, for the moment, the United States still enjoyed an advantage, but warned against complacency. Rabi noted that the Soviets had picked up "tremendous momentum," and failure to respond adequately might enable them to overtake the United States in "twenty to thirty years," much like the United States had overtaken

Europe after World War II. Killian concurred that "if we continue to go as we are now, the Russians will surpass us."

What was needed, he believed, was "a sense of urgency and mission in the scientific community." Polaroid president 296

Edwin Land added that many scientists felt "isolated and

alone." The president could give them a great psychological

lift, however, by educating the American people to the

importance of science and instilling enthusiasm among

American youth for scientific endeavors. Eisenhower

immediately seized upon this idea, remarking that he would

like to try to create "an attitude toward science similar to

that held toward various kinds of athletics in his youth."

Noting that people were currently "alarmed and thinking about science," he believed that the time was ripe for such a presidential initiative. 22

Eisenhower also expressed concern about achieving better coordination of government scientific activities, opening the door for the scientists to outline their proposals for a science advisory mechanism in the White

House. Rabi, noting that many policy issues before the president had a strong scientific component, suggested that

Eisenhower appoint a personal scientific adviser. The individual should be "someone the president can live with easily," who was "completely sound scientifically." The latter remark might have been directed against AEC Chairman

Lewis Strauss, whose scientific pretensions antagonized the scientists. Killian, elaborating on the earlier Zacharias panel proposals, suggested that the adviser should be backed, up by a committee, "something comparable to the Council of

Economic Advisers." While Eisenhower seemed concerned that 297 such arrangements might "add to the burdens of the presidency," he nevertheless admitted that a science adviser might be "a great help in getting the right point of view across." Obviously impressed with the scientists’ ideas, he asked them to submit specific recommendations. He also sent them over to the Pentagon that same afternoon to deliver their views on the military research and development effort to the new secretary of defense. 23

Almost giddy with enthusiasm from their productive meeting with the president, the committee enjoyed a similarly heady encounter with Neil H. McElroy, the former

Proctor and Gamble chief who had the misfortune to enter office five days after Sputnik. In marked contrast to his curmudgeonly predecessor, McElroy seemed ready to entertain the scientists’ opinions. Killian saw a "wonderful chance to change the trend" in the Pentagon regarding support for basic research, and Rabi reminded McElroy that the Defense

Department was "the great scientific consumer." The

Pentagon therefore had an obligation to increase its support for basic research in order to replenish the stockpile of new ideas, which might possibly result in revolutionary new weapons. Reaffirming their faith in "best science elitism,” however, the scientists stated that only "the significant leaders who can make a contribution" should be the beneficiaries of Pentagon largesse. In fact, Killian believed that the overriding need in the military research 298

and development program was "more for leadership than money," a sentiment shared by McElroy and the president. 24

Over the next few days, Killian worked out the details

for the science advisory mechanism suggested at the meeting

with the president. Consulting closely with SAC-ODM members Rabi, Land, Fisk, Berkner and Bronk, the MIT president

drafted a proposal calling for the creation of a special

assistant to the president for science and technology,

"having appropriate scientific qualifications and with a

White House status," supported by a small staff. He also

proposed a science advisory committee "representative of all scientific disciplines," which might be established by broadening of the existing SAC-ODM. The members of the committee should be appointed by the president on the

recommendation of the special assistant. In order to ensure maximum independence and objectivity, the committee would select its own chairman, and would have the right to go directly to the president in the event of a serious dispute with the special assistant. In effect, the proposal that

Killian submitted to General Cutler and White House chief of staff Sherman Adams closely mirrored the original Golden proposal of 1951 and the Zacharias panel recommendations of

1956 . 25

Not surprisingly, on October 24, 1957, Eisenhower formally invited Killian to accept the post of Special

Assistant to the President for Science and Technology. 299

Killian was the obvious choice. Although Eisenhower personally admired Rabi and had known him since his Columbia days, the SAC-ODM chairman had little desire to serve in a full-time government position, and was temperamentally unsuited to such a role. In addition, Rabi was still recuperating from a mild heart attack suffered earlier in the year. The physicist’s friendship with Oppenheimer and his support for a nuclear test ban also made him persona non grata with influential AEC Chairman Lewis Strauss. Killian, however, had ably demonstrated his administrative abilities and tactfulness, both as TCP director and as chairman of the

President’s Board of Consultants on Foreign Intelligence

Activities. He commanded wide respect in both scientific and government circles and, as Rabi had put it, was "someone the President could live with easily." After securing a leave of absence from MIT, Killian accepted the appointment on November 2. He agreed to serve until the fall of 1958, after which time Eisenhower would review the arrangement and decide whether to continue with the position. 26

The president assigned the new special assistant wide- ranging responsibilities in the White House. Killian was to keep himself informed on scientific progress in the various government agencies, especially in fields relating to national security. He was to advise the president and

"other officers of government holding policy responsibilities" on scientific and technological matters. 300

He would assist in collecting information about the relative

progress of Soviet and American science and technology, and

he would also be responsible for "trying to anticipate

future trends or developments in science and technology"

relevant to national security, and suggesting "future

actions in regard thereto." In order to carry out these

functions effectively, Eisenhower authorized Killian to

attend all NSC and Cabinet meetings, and to receive "full

access to all plans, programs, and activities involving

science and technology in the Government, including the

Department of Defense, AEC, and CIA."^

In addition to securing independent scientific advice

for the executive branch, Eisenhower also envisioned

Killian’s appointment as part of a coherent administration program to restore a sense of public confidence and to

rationalize the national security programs. In fact, late

in October, Cutler produced a blueprint for a series of such

actions, partly based on ideas from Killian. Following up on the musings of both McElroy and the president, Cutler

raised the possibility of "a new Manhattan Project" for the anti-missile missile and reconnaissance satellites as a means of reducing interservice squabbling. He also noted that there was "a more favorable climate than at any previous time for pressing for further Defense unification," something that Eisenhower had long advocated. Finally, building on Edwin Land’s suggestion, Cutler proposed a 301 series of presidential speeches on science and national defense, emphasizing the nation’s awesome military power and stirring greater public awareness of the importance of science and technology. 28

Unfortunately for the president, even before he could announce Killian’s appointment as part of his planned

November 7 speech on "Science in National Security," other developments further eroded public confidence. On November

3, the Soviet Union orbited Sputnik II, a satellite weighing in excess of 1,200 pounds and carrying a live dog. Clearly, as Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev bragged, the Russians had a missile with the necessary thrust to launch a sizeable thermonuclear warhead. The next day, the Senate approved a special inquiry into the missile and satellite programs by

Lyndon Johnson’s Preparedness Investigating Subcommittee.

Over the next few weeks, this public investigation kept the alleged deficiencies of the nation’s defense programs in the spotlight and undermined Eisenhower’s efforts to quieten public fears

A few days later, Eisenhower and the NSC sat through an alarming presentation on the state of the nation’s defenses and the growing Soviet strategic threat by the Security

Resources Panel of the Science Advisory Committee, led by H.

Rowan Gaither and Robert C. Sprague. This group of scientists and industrialists, charged with investigating passive and active defense measures, painted a grim picture 302

of relative Soviet and American military and economic

strength. Most seriously, the panel believed that the

vulnerability of the Strategic Air Command’s bombers and the

civilian population to a Soviet surprise attack undermined

the credibility of America’s nuclear deterrent. In order to rectify the situation, the Gaither Committee recommended an

expanded program of IRBM and ICBM development, acceleration

of the relatively invulnerable Polaris submarine IRBM

system, further dispersal and hardening of SAC bases, speedy

development of an early-warning system for an ICBM attack,

improved limited war forces, and a national program of fall­

out shelters. Together, these measures would require estimated additional defense expenditures of between $3 billion and $5 billion per year over the next five years.

Eisenhower thought the study unduly pessimistic and rejected many of the panel’s findings, but unauthorized leaks to the press heightened the sense that the administration was too complacent about the nation’s defense programs. 30

In this continued atmosphere of crisis, Eisenhower completed the reorganization of his science advisory machinery along the lines discussed with the scientists in

October. He formally approved Killian’s recommendation that the Science Advisory Committee of the Office of Defense

Mobilization be elevated to the White House as the

President’s Science Advisory Committee (PSAC). Eisenhower appointed the members, in consultation with Killian, for 303 staggered three-year terms, and allowed the members to elect their own chairman. Rabi promptly resigned the chairmanship to enable Killian to replace him. Eisenhower also agreed that PSAC would be advisory to both Killian and the president, and would select its own executive officer and such consultants as might be required. In practice, David

Beckler continued in his capacity as executive officer.^

In accordance with Killian’s suggestion, the new PSAC consisted of an enlarged version of the old SAC-ODM, and included some of the leading scientists and engineers from government, industry, and academia. Most had already acquired considerable experience in military research and development or national security affairs. In addition to

Killian and Rabi, PSAC included TCP veterans Berkner, Land,

Fisk, Zacharias, and Jerome Wiesner, director of MIT’s

Research Laboratory of Electronics. Three more members,

Caltech physicist Robert F. Bacher, Harvard chemist George

B. Kistiakowsky, and Cornell physicist Hans A. Bethe dated their involvement in military research and development back to the Manhattan Project. Nobel Laureate Edward M. Purcell of Harvard had worked at MIT’s Rad Lab during the war, and

Caltech physicist H. P. Robertson had recently served as scientific adviser to the Supreme Allied Commander in

Europe. The remaining members were: Caryl P. Haskins, a

Vannevar Bush protege and president of the Carnegie

Institution of Washington; Academy president Detlev Bronk; 304

retired General James H. Doolittle; William 0. Baker, vice-

president of research at Bell Labs; and Herbert F. York, the

young director of the AEC’s Livermore National Laboratory.

Collectively, the group comprised the leading statesmen of

science.32

***

Eisenhower’s decision to establish PSAC on November 22,

1957, represented the culmination of a six-year-long

struggle by the scientists of SAC-ODM to secure the sort of

presidential science advisory system originally envisioned by William T. Golden during the Korean War. During this

time, despite an administration that frequently seemed oblivious to the needs of science and scientists, they

remained dedicated to their goal. From their foothold in the Office of Defense Mobilization, they gradually gained

the attention of the president and, in the Technological

Capabilities Panel exercise, demonstrated the value of independent technical advice on national security isssues.

Sputnik finally provided the necessary catalyst for

Eisenhower to overcome his latent anti-intellectualism and to bring the nation’s scientific elite into the top levels of government, thereby achieving greater integration between science and the state. Eisenhower apparently hoped to accomplish several goals through the appointment of Killian and the PSAC. In the short-term, he wanted to reassure the American people that he was, indeed, receiving the best scientific advice

available. Additionally, he expected these technical

experts to assist the administration in rationalizing the

nation’s research and development programs, particularly in

such important fields as space and missiles. Finally, the president envisioned using his science advisers as a source

of impartial technical advice, untainted by vested interests

or partisan politics, to adjudicate interservice rivalries over military research and development and roles and missions. In short, Sputnik did not cause Eisenhower to abandon his commitment to "security with solvency." Rather, he hoped that his scientists would assist him in preserving the essentials of the New Look and resisting the pressures

for any further expansion of federal power. 306

1. Rabi to Flemming, December 19, 1956, White House Office, Office of the Special Assistant for National Security Affairs, Records 1952-1961 [hereafter, OSANSA], Special Assistant Series, Subject Series, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, March-Oct 1957 (3)," Dwight D. Eisenhower Library, Abilene, Kansas [hereafter, DDEL]; Beckler memo for Flemming, October 9, 1956, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, June 1955-Feb 1957 (2)." 2. Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: Dwight D. Eisenhower. 1957 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1958), 46-47 [hereafter, Public Papers, 19571; Memo of Discussion at 307th Meeting of NSC, December 21, 1956, in U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, 1955-1957. vol 19: National Security Policy (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1990), 384-94 [hereafter, FRUS. 1955-571.

3. Cutler memo of conference with Flemming, Gray, and Beckler, March 3, 1957, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, March-Oct 1957 (3)," DDEL.

4. Cutler memo of conference with Gray and Science Advisory Committee, March 21, 1957, and Cutler memo of meeting with the President, March 12, 1957, both in OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, March-Oct 1957 (3)," DDEL; SAC Agenda, March 21-23, 1957, U.S. President’s Science Advisory Committee, Records 1957-1961 [hereafter, PSAC], Box 3, Folder: "President’s Science Advisory Committee (3)," DDEL.

5. Furnas telegram to Wilson, February 25, 1957; and Furnas to Olive Doherty, March 4, 1957, both in Clifford C. Furnas Papers, 1918-1969, Box 2, Folder: "Dept, of Defense, General Correspondence, 1957 (1)," DDEL; Bruce L. R. Smith, The Advisers: Scientists in the Policy Process (Washington, DC: The Brookings Institution, 1992), 52-53.

6. Furnas to Joseph Turner, Assistant Editor Scientific Monthly, May 6, 1957, Furnas Papers, Box 2, Folder: "Dept, of Defense, General Correspondence, 1957 (1)," DDEL. 7. Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, March 29, 1957, Dwight D. Eisenhower Papers as President, Ann Whitman File [hereafter, AWF], DDE Diary Series, Box 22, Folder: "March 57 - Diary Staff Memos (1)," DDEL.

8. Ibid; Memo of Discussion at 317th Meeting of NSC, March 28, 1957, FRUS. 1955-57 19:446-56. 307

9. Piore memo to Fisk, Land, and Beckler, "Some Thoughts on the Function of Research and its Support by the Federal Government," April 15, 1957; Herbert H. Rosenberg, "The Future of Federal Responsibility for Basic Research," May 15, 1957; SAC Agenda for Meeting on May 23-24, 1957, dated May 23, 1957, all in Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, 1957," MIT; and Beckler to Rabi and Killian, July 23, 1957, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee - Basic Research Papers, 1957," MIT.

10. Rabi to Gray, July 19, 1957, Compton-Killian Papers, Box 213, Folder: "Science Advsory Committee - Basic Research Papers, 1957," MIT.

11. Ibid.

12. Ibid.

13. Ibid.

14. "Ups and Downs in Research Support," Science 126 (18 October 1957): 723; Arthur L. Minnich Cabinet Minutes, August 2, 1957, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 26, Folder: "Aug 57 Memos and Appointments (2)," DDEL; Memo of Discussion at 332d Meeting of NSC, July 25, 1957, FRUS. 1955-57 19:556-65; J. Merton England, A Patron for Pure Science: The National Science Foundation's Formative Years. 1945-57 (Washington, DC: National Science Foundation, 1982), 342-43.

15. John Foster Dulles telephone call to General Cabell (CIA), August 27, 1957, John Foster Dulles Papers [hereafter, JFD Papers], Telephone Calls Series, Box 7, Folder: "Memos Telephone Coversations - General, July 1, 1957-Aug 31, 1957 (1)," DDEL; John Prados, The Soviet Estimate: U.S. Intelligence Analysis and Russian Military Strength (New York: Dial Press, 1983), 56-57, 62-63; James R. Killian, Jr., Sputnik, Scientists and Eisenhower: A Memoir of the First Special Assistant to the President for Science and Technology (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1977), 2- 11.

16. Rockefeller to Lay, May 17, 1955, OSANSA, NSC Series, Policy Papers Subseries, Box 16, Folder: "NSC 5520 - Satellite Program (2)," DDEL; Walter A. MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth: A Political History of the Space Age (New York: Basic Books, 1985), 118-24.

17. New York Times. October 5, 1957, 1-3, and October 6, 1957, 1; Newsweek, October 14, 1957, 37-41, and October 21, 1957, 30 — 31; Dwight D. Eisenhower, The White House Years, vol. 2: Waging Peace. 1956-1961 (Garden City, NY: 308

Doubleday, 1965), 205-06; MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth, 142-45.

18. Life, October 21, 1957, 19-35; New York Times, October 7, 1957, 26, and Section V, 10; Newsweek. January 20, 1958; Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and Eisenhower. 7-8; MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth, 143-45.

19. Public Papers, 1957, 719-35; Goodpaster memos of conferences with the president, October 8, 1957, and October 9, 1957, in AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 27, Folder: October 1957 Staff Notes (2)," DDEL; JFD telephone call to Allen W. Dulles, October 7, 1957, JFD Papers, Box 12, Folder: "Memoranda Tel Conv.- White House, Sep 2, 1957-Dec 26, 1957 (3)," DDEL; JFD telephone call from James C. Hagerty, October, 8, 1957, JFD Papers, Box 7, Folder: "Memoranda Tel. Conv.- General, Sep 2, 1957-Oct 31, 1957 (2)," DDEL.

20. Memo of Discussion at 339th Meeting of NSC, October 10, 1957, FRUS, 1955-57 19:601-05; Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, October 11, 1957, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 27, Folder: "October 1957 Staff Notes (2)," DDEL; Stephen E. Ambrose, Eisenhower. vol. 2: The President (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1984), 427-29.

21. Detlev W. Bronk, "Science Advice in the White House: The Genesis of the President’s Science Advisers and the National Science Foundation," in William T. Golden, ed., Science Advice for the President (New York: Pergamon Press, 1980), 255-56; Eisenhower, Waging Peace. 210-11. Ambrose, Eisenhower 2:430, erroneously believes that this was "the first meeting with so broad-guaged and representative a group," neglecting the previous meetings of March, 1954, and March, 1957.

22. Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, October 15, 1957, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 27, Folder: "October 57 Staff Notes (2)," DDEL; Eisenhower, Waging Peace, 211-12.

23. Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, October 15, 1957, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 27, Folder: "October 57 Staff Notes (2)," DDEL; Cutler handwritten notes of SAC-ODM meeting with the President, October 15, 1957, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, March-October, 1957 (3)," DDEL.

24. Cutler handwritten notes of SAC-ODM meeting with Secretary of Defense, October 15, 1957, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, March-October 1957 (3)," DDEL. 309

25. Killian outline of a possible mechanism for better coordination at top level U.S. scientific effort with the work of various U.S. Government agencies, October 23, 1957, OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, March-Oct 1957 (3)," DDEL; Killian to Beckler, October 22, 1957, with attached Program for the Federal Government to Help in Releasing the Full Scientific Capacities of the U.S. and her Allies, Executive of the President, Office of Science and Technology, 1966, PSAC Records, Record Group 359, Box 359, Folder: "PSAC - Title Folder," National Archives, Washington, DC; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 20-22.

26. Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 24- 25.

27. Eisenhower to Killian, December 7, 1957, reprinted in Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 35—36; Adams memo for Record, October 30, 1957, White House Office, Office of the Staff Secretary, Records 1952-1961 [hereafter, OSS], Box 4, Folder: "Dr. Killian, May 1956-Nov 1957 (1)," DDEL.

28. Checklist on better coordination of U.S. scientific effort with the work of various government agencies, undated [October, 1957], OSANSA, Special Assistant Series, Subject Subseries, Box 7, Folder: "Science Advisory Committee, March-October, 1957 (3)," DDEL.

29. Ambrose, Eisenhower 2:430; MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth, 148-50.

30. Memo of conference with the President, November 4, 1957, and Memo of Discussion at 343d Meeting of NSC, November 7, 1957, FRUS. 1955-57 19:620-24, 630-35. See also Report to the President by the Security Resources Panel of the ODM Science Advisory Committee on Deterrence and Survival in the Nuclear Age, NSC 5724, November 7, 1957, ibid., 638-61.

31. DDE to Killian, November 22, 1957, U.S. President’s Science Advisory Committee, Records 1957-1961 [hereafter, PSAC], Box 3, Folder: "President’s Science Advisory Committee (3)," DDEL; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 107.

32. DDE appointments to PSAC, November, 1957, PSAC, Box 5, Folder: "President’s Science Advisory Committee (3)," DDEL; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 110-11, 277-79. CHAPTER VI

SCIENTISTS AND POLICY: AN ASSESSMENT OF THE ROLE OF SCIENCE

ADVISERS IN THE LATER EISENHOWER YEARS

In the aftermath of the Soviet Sputniks, President

Eisenhower came under intense pressure to embark on a series of actions to meet the new Soviet challenge which, by

implication, would require him to abandon his commitment to limited government and the minimum defense posture necessary to deter war. Senator Lyndon Johnson’s Preparedness

Investigating Subcommittee, the Gaither Panel, and then the

Rockefeller Brothers Report on international security all presented specific recommendations for strenghtening the nation’s defenses, most of which would require huge additional expenditures over the next several years. The military services, sensing the opportunity to extract more funds from Congress, compounded the administration’s difficulties by becoming more vocal in their assaults on the

New Look and "arbitrary" budgetary ceilings. Eisenhower, however, adamantly refused to be panicked into abandoning his basic philosophy. While recognizing that some modifications would be necessary in such areas as space, military research and development, and missiles, he

310 311 nevertheless sought to hold the line on overall defense expenditures and to fund additional .programs through a reallocation of resources wherever possible.

Eisenhower used his White House science advisers as managerial tools to accomplish these goals and to battle against the excessive demands of what he would later call the "military-industrial complex." No sooner had the scientists been installed in the White House than Eisenhower directed their attention to such pressing issues as the nation's space program, military research and development, and the so-called missile mess. Over the next few months, special assistant Killian and PSAC examined each of these areas and made specific recommendations leading to new organizational arrangements or policies. The scientists helped to draft the administration’s bill providing for a civilian space agency and established the outlines for a national space policy. Killian assisted the secretary of defense in reorganizing military research and development activities in the Department of Defense. And PSAC established a missile panel to work with the Pentagon in assigning priorities in the military missile programs. In each case, the scientists not only promoted the president’s goals of efficiency and economy, but also tried to safeguard their own "best science" principles, such as maximum support for basic research and academic freedom. 312

The scientists also used their new-found access to the

president to press for a nuclear test ban agreement. Until

1957, Eisenhower had relied primarily on AEC Chairman Lewis

L. Strauss for advice on nuclear issues, and Strauss in turn had provided a channel for the views of such ardent cold warriors as Edward Teller and Ernest 0. Lawrence. Teller and Lawrence believed that, as long as political tensions with the Soviet Union continued and the Russians maintained a closed society, the nation’s scientists had an obligation to seek the best weapons possible for the United States and the free world. They adamantly opposed any test ban, claiming that it would halt experimentation and weapons development. Killian and PSAC, particularly the veterans of the H-bomb controversy like Isidor I. Rabi and Hans A.

Bethe, believed that a test ban would be a first step to reducing Cold War tensions and opening up the Soviet Union.

Unlike the AEC scientists, they believed that an effective inspection and control system was technically feasible.

Eisenhower, who had periodically contemplated arms control measures as a means of reducing international tensions and cutting defense costs, now found technical support for his personal inclinations. Working closely with his science advisers, he moved the United States along the road to a test ban agreement with the Soviet Union.

*** 313

Given the profound psychological shock of the Soviet

Sputniks and the much-publicized inquiry into the nation's missile and satellite programs by LBJ's Preparedness

Investigating Subcommittee, it was perhaps inevitable that space would be among the first issues assigned to Killian and PSAC for consideration. As if to add insult to injury, the long-awaited first launch of Vanguard on December 6,

1957, resulted in a spectacular fireball on the launch pad.

To wags around the world, the American response to Sputnik appeared to be "Kaputnik," or "Stayputnik." As uncertainty surrounding the American space program mounted, Eisenhower’s science advisers undertook a review of existing space programs. Within a few days, PSAC made specific recommendations for achieving an early satellite. Over the next several months, the scientists produced a framework for a national space policy, and helped to draft legislation creating the National Aeronautics and Space Administation.

To a remarkable extent, the administration’s space program closely followed the scientists’ recommendations.

At its very first official meeting on December 9, 1957, just three days after the ignominious failure at Cape

Canaveral, PSAC established a Space Assessment Panel to review all elements of the existing space program and to make a preliminary assessment of the prospects for a successful American satellite launch. Herbert F. York, director of the Livermore National Laboratory, chaired the 314 group, which also included Emmanuel R. Piore, director of

research at International Business Machines, and Harvard

University chemist and Manhattan Project veteran George B.

Kistiakowsky. Working quickly, the panel called in John P.

Hagen, director of Project Vanguard, and Wernher von Braun, former head of Germany's V-2 program and now technical director of the Army Ballistic Missile Agency (ABMA), to examine the relative merits of the Vanguard and Jupiter-C as satellite launch vehicles. Von Braun’s team had already flight-tested the Jupiter-C, a modified version of the

Army’s Redstone tactical missile, in September 1956.

According to the ABMA’s General John B. Medaris, "It would have gone into orbit without question if we had used a loaded fourth-stage." Indeed, shortly after Sputnik I,

Secretary of Defense Neil H. McElroy had put the Army team on alert to serve as a possible back-up to Vanguard.^

York’s panel completed its brief, one-and-a-half-page report to PSAC before Christmas, and Killian then submitted the committee’s recommendations to Eisenhower in the New

Year. Taking into account the technical difficulties in the

Vanguard program, PSAC concluded that the entire series of six satellite launch attempts planned for 1958 had "only an even chance of success." Moreover, given the "uncertainties surrounding all such tests," the scientists recommended a policy of no publicity. The Jupiter-C, however, promised an even chance of success with "each attempt to launch a 315

satellite," giving it "a substantially greater probability"

of putting an object in orbit than Vanguard. The scientists

therefore recommended against expanding the Vanguard

program, but suggested that "additional resources be made available to the Jupiter-C in order best to insure the successful launching of satellites."

Eisenhower quickly learned the value of such

independent, technical advice. Heeding the York panel’s

recommendations, the administration turned down a proposal to add six additional launchings to the Vanguard program to

increase its chances of success, and instead approved

Secretary McElroy’s decision to allow the Army to make the next satellite launch attempt. On January 31, 1958, the

ABMA, in conjunction with Caltech’s Jet Propulsion

Laboratory, orbited the first American earth satellite,

Explorer I. Weighing in at a mere 10.5 pounds, the American satellite nevertheless carried more advanced, miniaturized electronics than the Soviet Sputniks, demonstrating that the

United States was by no means behind in all aspects of the technological space race with the USSR. Vanguard, after another failure in February, eventually put a satellite in orbit in March.

After successfully ironing out the initial bugs in the earth satellite program, Eisenhower asked his scientists to address themselves to the broader issue of a national space program and an apporpriate organization to carry it out. 316

Initially, at least, Eisenhower’s predilection to avoid

unnecessary duplication wherever possible led him to consider utilizing the Defense Department as the operating agency for all outer space activity. Any non-military research projects might remain under the direction of a civilian scientific group, such as the National Science

Foundation, but would employ existing Defense facilities and personnel. Generally, the president was reluctant to be drawn into a program of space spectaculars, like lunar probes, because "we couldn't pour unlimited funds into these costly projects" which had "nothing of early value to the

Nation’s security." For the moment, Eisenhower said, he would "rather have a good Redstone than be able to hit the moon, for we didn’t have any enemies on the moon!" Still, he did not rule out eventually creating a "great Department of Space."*

Killian immediately found the president’s position troubling, as did Vice President Richard M. Nixon. Both pointed out that the military would have very little interest in non-military space research, and the field might therefore be neglected. Nixon also raised international considerations, noting that it would be better for America’s image around the world to have a separate, civilian agency conducting peaceful research in outer space than to rely on the military. Killian no doubt had another concern. The nation’s best scientists were highly critical of the 317 management practices of military laboratories in general,

and traditionally eschewed long-term work in such a setting.

Consequently, complete Pentagon domination of outer space

activity might deter some the best scientific minds from participating in space research altogether.® Killian appointed a new PSAC panel to consider a national space program, this time chaired by the quiet-

spoken Nobel laureate in physics from Harvard, Edward M.

Purcell. Jimmy Doolittle, Edwin Land, and York rounded out

the group. Rather than attempting to craft a precise blueprint for future action based on a rigid timetable, the panel instead followed Eisenhower’s suggestion and chose to present a broad overview of anticipated space capabilities, designed to educate the layman about the realities and the fantasies of space. The committee’s report, eventually published as "Introduction to Outer Space," noted that several factors gave "importance, urgency, and inevitability to the advancement of space technology." These included: man’s urge to "try to go where no one has gone before"; the defense objective; national prestige; and new opportunties for scientific observation and experimentation. While acknowledging the military value of reconnaissance, meteorological, and communications satellites, the bulk of the report emphasized peaceful outer space activities. The clear implication was that space science and exploration g should be conducted by a civilian agency. In addition to sketching the broad outlines of American

space policy, Killian and the Purcell panel began to

consider the thorny problem of an appropriate organization

for space activities. Several contenders had already

emerged. The Army’s ABMA had demonstrated its technical

competence in rocketry with the successful Explorer I

launch, and Medaris and von Braun became vocal promoters for

their organization. The Air Force, which was developing a

reconnaissance satellite and intercontinental ballistic

missiles (ICBMs), made an equally powerful case for assuming

the larger space mission. The Department of Defense, which

had just established the Advanced Research Projects Agency

(ARPA) to centralize control of military space projects, might simply expand its purview to encompass all space activity. In Congress, meanwhile, Senator Clinton P.

Anderson (D-NM), chair of the powerful Joint Committee on

Atomic Energy, was working on legislation to assign

responsibility for space to the Atomic Energy Commission, which had initiated work on a nuclear-powered rocket.

Liberal senators Mike Mansfield (D-MT) and Hubert H.

Humphrey (D-MN) preferred a completely new Department of

Science, which would establish centralized authority over most major civilian research and development activities,

n including space science and exploration.

Each of the above proposals had its merits, but Killian and PSAC, working closely with the Bureau of the Budget and Nelson A. Rockefeller’s President’s Advisory Committee on

Government Organization (PACGO), rejected them all. The

continuing interservice rivalry over roles and missions

automatically precluded assigning space responsibilities to

a single service, as did the scientists’ concern to avoid military domination of civilian space activity. Utilizing

the Department of Defense would similarly entail military

control, and would undermine attempts to stress the peaceful

nature of the American space program. The AEC had the

advantage of being a civilian agency with extensive

experience in directing scientific research and development,

but this experience was narrowly focused on atomic energy.

Finally, the proposed Department of Science would likewise

ensure civilian control and guarantee access to the top

levels of government, but PSAC firmly opposed such a

creature. A Department of Science seemed to be a giant step down the road to statist control of science, something that

most of the nation’s scientistific elite had been resisting

since Harley Kilgore’s day. Moreover, the BOB disliked the notion of creating a completely new agency.

The solution preferred by Killian and PSAC was to

strengthen and reconstitute the existing National Advisory

Committee for Aeronautics (NACA). The agency’s unique organizational structure appealed to the scientists. The director reported to a part-time, policymaking board, which enabled leading scientists and engineers from the private 320

sector to shape overall policy, insulating the agency from

political interference. Vannevar Bush, a former chairman of

NACA, had already used the agency as a model for his wartime

National Defense Research Committee and for his postwar NSF proposals. In addition, as a going federal research agency, NACA had 2,000 scientific and engineering staff and some

$300 million-worth of facilities which could be quickly adapted to the space program. Moreover, space flight seemed to be a logical extension of aeronautical research.

Finally, over the years, NACA had established an effective working relationship with the military services, which augured well for future cooperation in space research. 9

Eisenhower approved the scientists’ recommendations at a March 5 meeting with Killian, Rockefeller, and Budget

Director Percival F. Brundage. To the relief of Killian, the president now agreed that space "discovery and research should be scientific, rather than military." He authorized the BOB, in consultation with Killian, to draft legislation providing for the reconstitution of NACA as the National

Aeronautics and Space Agency (NASA). The new agency would continue to have a board for top policy direction, but, as an indication of the political importance of space, the director would now be appointed by the president with the advice and consent of the Senate. In order to attract the most able scientists and engineers, Eisenhower agreed that

NASA should not be bound by Civil Service pay scales, but 321

should offer compensation at rates that were "reasonably

competitive with the rates paid by non-Federal employers for comparable work." Finally, to facilitate the consolidation

of civilian space activities in NASA, the president would be given "specific authority to transfer to NACA space activities ... which are now being performed by other agencies.

These basic principles formed the core of the administration’s space bill submitted to Congress early in

April, but the legislative process resulted in some significant changes. The original bill provided that all aeronautical and astronautical activities would be the preserve of the civilian agency, except where associated with weapons systems, military operations, or defense.

Overall policy would be determined by an expanded version of the NACA board, the Space Board, which would comprise seventeen government and nongovernment members. The latter would be selected on the basis of "established records of distinguished achievement" in science, technology, or public affairs. The House version of the bill, shaped by Majority

Leader John W. McCormack (D-MA), a friend of Killian’s, closely corresponded with the administration’s position, establishing a military liaison committee, modeled on the

AEC’s organizational arrangements, to secure military- civilian cooperation in space. Senator Johnson, however, whose missile and satellite investigation had stressed the 322

military importance of space, wanted a stronger military

input, into the new agency. His legislation created a Space

Council, composed of Cabinet officers and chaired by the

vice-president, to direct overall space policy. The two

bills also disagreed over patent policy. The House version preferred government ownership of all patents derived from

NASA-supported research, but Johnson favored flexible patent

provisions that would provide incentives for private sector

participation in space research and development.^

Through the summer, a series of compromises resolved

the major differences between the administration, House, and

Senate versions of the bill. On July 7, in a personal meeting with Senator Johnson, Eisenhower agreed to accept a modified Space Council, providing for an advisory group consisting of the secretaries of state and defense, the chairman of the AEC, one other federal official designated by the president, and three more members appointed from the private sector. Privately, Eisenhower confided to Killian that "he did not think there should be too many meetings of

the overall council." The House-Senate conference report retained the military liaison committee arrangement favored by the House, but accepted the Senate’s patent provisions providing for government rights to all inventions derived

from NASA-supported research, but granting the administrator discretion in waiving those rights. Eisenhower signed the legislation establishing the National Aeronautics and Space 323 Administration into law on July 29, 1958. 12

While Killian and the PSAC were only one group of players in the events surrounding the creation of NASA, they nevertheless exercised considerable influence in shaping the

final legislation and determining the early course of

American space policy. They ensured that the administration, despite Eisenhower's early inclinations to avoid duplication by assigning all space functions to the

Defense Department, became firmly committed to the principle of a civilian space agency, thereby avoiding complete military domination of space science. They similarly succeeded in securing a degree of non-government participation in the shaping of overall space policy by retaining elements of the old NACA board system in the Space

Council. Finally, flexible patent provisions would help to attract some of the leading science-based corporations to the new field of space research by preventing a total state monopoly of new inventions. Taken together, the scientists’ actions safeguarded against a statist domination of space science by providing for a degree of public-private powersharing.

***

While the space race and efforts to fashion a space agency captured the public’s imagination in the aftermath of

Sputnik, Eisenhower and his scientists rightly recognized that the arms race and matters of defense organization were 324

actually more pressing issues. Eisenhower had long been an

advocate of greater unification in the nation’s armed

forces, and had first attempted to strengthen central

civilian control over the military services in

Reorganization Plan 6 of 1953 (see Chapter Three). The results had not been entirely satisfactory. Indeed,

Eisenhower’s efforts to hold the line on military

expenditures had fueled interservice rivalries over roles

and missions as each service sought a greater share of the

defense dollar. By 1956, the president had reached the conclusion that further measures of unification would be

required to improve both the efficiency and the economy of

the overall defense effort.

His scientists wholeheartedly agreed. Specifically,

they believed that the military research and development program under Secretary of Defense Wilson had allowed too much wasteful duplication, exacerbating the shortage of

trained scientific and technical manpower. Moreover, Wilson had remained adamantly hostile to basic research. With

Wilson’s departure and the heightened public concern over the technological arms race following Sputnik, both

Eisenhower and his scientists saw an opportunity to achieve greater unification in the Pentagon.

Killian and PSAC firmly believed that changing military technology required new forms of defense organization. As

Killian stated on several occasions before his presidential 325

appointment, the military task "no longer divides up neatly

into three mission areas, defined by the vehicle the

fighting man rides in." During his involvement in MIT’s air

defense studies, Killian had strongly supported the concept

of a single, integrated continental defense command responsible for all aspects of air defense, an idea that

eventually bore fruit with the creation of the North

American Air Defense Command (NORAD) in 1957. Later, he

similarly called for the management of other military

functions, such as long-range bombardment with

intercontinental ballistic missiles, as complete systems.

Such views jibed closely with those of the president, who similarly favored increased reliance on unified commands, with the individual services confined to lesser functions like training and administrative matters. Moreover, in the post-Sputnik climate, Eisenhower thought that "a giant step toward unification could be made." 13

Killian and the scientists naturally focused most of their attention on the military research and development program. Shortly before his appointment, Killian called for

"better management of research and development important to military strength." Specifically, he sought more "unified strategic plans" that would clarify research requirements and enable more efficient allocation of scientific and technical manpower by eliminating "unnecesary duplication."

Whereas Secretary Wilson had encouraged limited competition 326

between the services as a means of stimulating more rapid

development of certain weapons, the scientists viewed such

competition as wasteful of scarce scientific and technical

talent. Equally important, Killian wanted "more competence

and skill in scientific coordination and planning at the top" of the Defense Department to ensure "more effective

research and development all down the line." Better top-

level management could: establish clear research priorities; provide stable, long-term funding for promising

research projects; find economies by eliminating

"unnecessary refinements" of materiel; and organize centralized research and development groups to tackle such

important problems as anti-ballistic missile defense.^

The departure of Wilson from the Pentagon opened the door for Eisenhower and his scientists to initiate another round of defense reorganization. Indeed, just a few days after assuming office, Secretary,of Defense McElroy told the president that he was thinking of centralizing technical feasibility studies of the anti-missile missile in the

Defense Department, rather than in the services, "to prevent the matter from getting to the point of intense rivalry."

Eisenhower, who had recently talked about setting up a centralized "Manhattan Project for missiles," strongly encouraged McElroy to press ahead with the idea. He also urged him to go even further, suggesting that he meet with

Rockefeller’s PACGO, which was contemplating defense 327

reorganization and "believes strongly in increased

unification." What Eisenhower did not mention was that he

had just met with PACGO members the day before and asked

them to develop plans for greater unification in the Defense

Department. Throughout the fall and winter, McElroy, in

consultation with PACGO and Killian, prepared legislation to

centralize greater authority in the Office of the Secretary

of Defense (OSD).^

In the interim, Killian and former SAC-ODM member

Charles Thomas assisted McElroy in strengthening the

technical competence of the OSD to provide the secretary

with the intellectual authority he needed to manage

interservice rivalries over new technology. In the

aftermath of Sputnik, each service pressed its own

technological solutions to the nation’s defense problems.

Some, like the Array and Air Force proposals to develop anti­ missile missiles, seemed to hold promise. Others, like the

Army’s proposal to transport troops inside missile nose cones or the Air Force’s concept of space-based anti-missile systems, seemed more dubious. The problem, as Killian had noted earlier, was that the OSD lacked the scientific and technical in-house capability to evaluate such proposals

thoroughly, to eliminate the poorly-conceived ones, and to assign priorities to the others. As a result, particularly

in the post-Sputnik climate, there was a real danger that

interservice rivalry in research and development might run 328

rampant, leading to unnecessary duplication and wasteful use

of limited financial and technical resources. 16

McElroy and the scientists decided that the OSD needed

a new agency to manage, promote, and control the most

advanced projects in the Defense Department. It should be headed by "a very high-class industrial administrator,"

supported by a leading scientist and a competent technical

staff. On February 7, 1958, McElroy announced the creation

of the Advanced Research Projects Agency (ARPA), and

assigned it responsibility for all military space programs

and anti-missile missile projects. As director, he chose

Roy W. Johnson, a management expert and former executive vice-president of General Electric. Herbert York, who had served on the PSAC space panels, became chief scientist at

Killian's suggestion. In order to secure a highly competent, impartial technical staff, ARPA contracted with the Institute for Defense Analyses (IDA), the nonprofit consortium of universities that Killian had organized in

1956 to provide technical support to the Weapons Systems

Evaluation Group and the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The IDA hired top-notch scientists and engineers, then assigned them to ARPA on a "without compensation" basis. This enabled

ARPA to bypass Civil Service pay scales and secure the best scientific advice available. 1 ?

Over the next few months, ARPA attempted to rationalize the military space and anti-missile missile programs. The 329 agency reviewed each project and issued recommendations to the secertary of defense, who then took appropriate action.

In the case of the Air Force’s Discoverer reconnaissance satellite, ARPA found the project to be well-managed, assigned it high priority, and returned it to the Air Force. In August, 1960, the Discoverer project successfully recovered the first payload from space. The agency similarly looked favorably on various Army communications satellites and turned them back to the service for operation. Some of the more fanciful ideas fared less well.

ARPA determined that the space-based anti-missile proposals were too far ahead of the state of the art to warrant early development, and assigned them a study status only. The agency rejected outright the Army plan to transport troops in missiles. Finally, ARPA initiated its own research projects in such areas as large booster rockets for the contemplated man-in-space program. Overall, the new agency performed reasonably well in establishing clearer priorities in certain areas of the military research and development program.18

While Eisenhower saw ARPA as a useful tool for controlling interservice rivalries in limited areas of research and development, he believed that a sweeping reorganization of the entire Defense Department would be required to effect a permanent solution to the problem. By the end of 1957, the president had reached the conclusion 330

that his earlier reorganization effort had been "a useless

thing." The Joint Chiefs of Staff had generally failed to

rise above service interests and adopt the "corporate view"

of national defense that he advocated. The services continued to engage in "competitive publicity," promoting their own service at the expense of the others. Moreover,

in an age of instantaneous nuclear war, Eisenhower seriously doubted the wisdom of the present structure of four separate services. Like Killian, he favored increased reliance on unified, functional commands. Overall, Eisenhower sought a reorganization plan that would centralize and strengthen civilian control over the services, and achieve maximum efficiency and economy in the defense program. 19

As part of this general reorganization, Eisenhower adopted Killian's ideas for more centralized coordination of military research and development in the Department of

Defense. Centralized control would, he believed, "effect great savings of money and of the time and energy of our scientists." 20 In other words, it promised more efficient allocation of resources and a method of holding the line on defense expenditures despite the post-Sputnik clamor for greater outlays. At a breakfast meeting with Rockefeller's

PACGO, he stressed the need for "a single R&D program" with all new projects under the direct control of the Secretary of Defense. He then left PACGO, McElroy, and Killian to work out the precise details of the new arrangement. 21 331

Throughout the winter of 1957-58, Killian, backed up by

PSAC, assisted McElroy and PACGO in formulating the research

and development components of Eisenhower’s defense

reorganization bill. In a lengthy memorandum to McElroy,

Killian stressed that it was "essential to conceive of research and development in terras of our national military objectives -- in contrast to the necessarily more limited

objectives of a single military service." Specifically,

Killian called for a new deputy secretary of defense

"responsible for all scientific and technological activities

in the DOD" and supported by "an adequate staff of scientists and engineers," that would enable him to "arrive at objective technical judgements in relation to the central military objectives." Research and development on weapons systems of potential importance to more than one service should be conducted by "an agency reporting directly to the

Office of the Secretary of Defense."^ Charles A.

Coolidge, the Boston lawyer who assisted McElroy in drafting the administration’s bill, recommended to the president that

"research and development should be upgraded in effectiveness along the lines suggested by Dr. Killian."

Eisenhower agreed, having already decided that all military research and development ought to be under a "scientific czar.m 23

Eisenhower incorporated most of Killian’s recommendations in his special message to Congress on 332

defense reorganization and in his draft legislation

submitted in April. The president proposed abolishing the

ill-fated position of assistant secretary of defense for

research and engineering, and replacing it with a more

powerful director of defense research and engineering (DDR&E). The DDR&E would receive the same compensation as

the service secretaries and would rank immediately below

them in the Pentagon hierarchy. In order to give the

requisite intellectual authority to the new office,

Eisenhower wanted the DDR&E to be someone "known nationally

as a leader in science and technology," assisted by a

"highly qualified" staff. The DDR&E would be the principal

adviser to the secretary of defense on scientific and

technical matters, would have responsibility for supervising

all research and engineering activities in the Defense

Department, and would direct all research and engineering

activities requiring centralized management. The DDR&E

would work with the secertary of defense to "eliminate

unpromising or unnecessary duplicative programs, and release

promising ones for development or production." Finally, the

DDR&E would have authority to conduct research within OSD where "gaps" existed in the services’ programs. Taken together, the scientists of PSAC expected these provisions

to achieve their longstanding goal of upgrading military research and development in the Pentagon, while at the same time achieving Eisenhower’s goal of more scientific "bang 333 for the buck!"^

In the congressional hearings on the reorganization

bill, the research and development portions seemed to meet

with uniform approval. Indeed, some congressional leaders

had already laid the groundwork for relatively smooth passage of these measures. One of Senator Johnson’s

recommendations following his lengthy and well-publicized missile and satellite investigation was for measures to

"improve control and administration" of research and development programs "within the department of Defense or

through the establishment of an independent agency."

Likewise, a parallel investigation of military research and development by a House subcommittee had specifically called for centralized control of research and development in the

OSD. Even Ferdinand Eberstadt, one of the architects of the original National Security Act of 1947, and normally an opponent of any tendency toward increased centralization of authority, thought the research and development provisions

"worthy of adoption, at least on a trial basis." While other aspects of the president's proposal, particularly his plans to promote a corporate outlook in the JCS and the

Joint Staff, ran into significant opposition, his research and development provisions survived intact in the Defense

Reorganization Act he signed into law in August, 1958. 25

The creation of ARPA and the DDR&E addressed some of the longstanding concerns of Eisenhower’s scientists about 334 the military research and development program. Ever since

Vannevar Bush’s Joint Research and Development Board of the

1940s, scientists had sought an effective mechanism for

rationalizing military research and development, but with

limited success. Indeed, Secretary Wilson’s decision to abolish its successor, the Research and Development Board, coupled with his general disdain for scientists, had actually served to exclude the nation’s leading scientists and engineers from top policymaking decisions. The reforms of 1958 seemed to reverse the tide, particularly when

Secretary McElroy selected, former PSAC member Herbert York to be DDR&E. For the remainder of Eisenhower’s term, York worked closely with PSAC and met regularly with the special assistant for science and technology, ensuring that the nation’s scientific elite had direct input into shaping the military research and development effort.

***

The creation of ARPA and the DDR&E gave Eisenhower important institutional mechanisms for exerting greater civilian control over military research and development activities, with a view to achieving improved efficiency and economy. But in the aftermath of Sputnik, Eisenhower also turned to his scientists for more direct assistance in shaping the larger military program. Given the combination of rising costs and intense political pressure to accelerate certain programs as a response to the Soviet feat, it was 335

perhaps inevitable that military spending would creep above

Eisenhower's "New New Look" goal of $38 billion.

Nevertheless, the president remained steadfast in his

commitment to "security with solvency," and he used his

science advisers as tools to help him assign priorities within a relatively fixed budget. In the area of strategic

weapons, especially, Eisenhower’s scientists endeavored to

ensure that the nation really did receive "more bang for the

buck." In the process, however, they occasionally crossed

paths with the emerging military-industrial complex.

Throughout the fall and winter of 1957-58, Eisenhower

endured a cacophony of demands for increased military

outlays. The administration’s own Gaither Report, Senator

Johnson’s Preparedness Investigating Subcommittee, and then

the independent Rockefeller Brothers Fund Report on

international security all gave pessimistic assessments of

the nation’s vulnerability and made similar recommendations

for corrective action. Each advocated immediate steps to

secure the nation’s strategic deterrent by improving the

early warning system for both bombers and missiles, further dispersing the Strategic Air Command’s bombers, accelerating

the ICBM and IRBM programs, and initiating work on an anti­ missile missile. In addition, each called for improved conventional forces to fight limited wars, and stepped up civil defense measures, such as shelter programs, to protect

the civilian population. Senator Johnson did not put a 336

specific price tag on his recommendations, but the Gaither

panel estimated that its combined program would cost an

additional $4.8 to $11.9 billion per year. The Rockefeller

group sought progressive increases in the military budget of

$3 billion per year over "the next several fiscal years." 26 Eisenhower recognized that some of these proposals had

merit, but he had no intention of bankrupting the nation to

pay for them all. Throughout his remaining months in

office, he turned to his scientists for assistance in

determining the most cost-effective methods of maintaining

the nation’s military security. He had already decided not

to abandon the New Look and engage in the costly build-up of

conventional forces demanded by limited war advocates in the

Army and Navy. He also gave short shrift to the notion of a

nationwide shelter program, believing that it would be

prohibitively expensive and would have little impact in the

event of a general nuclear war. He therefore focused his

scientists’ attention primarily on the various strategic programs, and especially missiles. 11

Killian responded to the president’s needs by

establishing a PSAC missile panel under George B.

Kistiakowsky. The Harvard chemist had fought with the White

Russian armies against the Bolsheviks in his youth before completing his scientific training in Germany and moving to

the United States. An expert on explosives, during the war

he had perfected the the implosion device that triggered the 337

plutonium bomb used at Nagasaki. In the early 1950s, he had

served on the Strategic Missiles Evaluation Committee that

had confirmed the technical feasibility of ICBMs. With this

background, Kistiakowsky soon became "sort of a one-man

00 panel on missile programs." Kistiakowsky’s group conducted a series of technical

reviews of the various American IRBM and ICBM programs for

the president. In the first of these, in December 1958, the panel reassuringly informed the president that "our missile development is proceeding in a satisfactory manner." Any

Soviet lead was the result of a delayed entry into the missile field, not inferior American technology, but the panel reported that "the U.S. has ample technical competence

... to achieve satisfactory operational missiles at an early date." This technical assessment reinforced Eisenhower’s decision to accelerate the missile programs in the aftermath of Sputnik, and to request a $1.26 billion supplemental appropriation early in 1958 to cover the increased costs. 29

In subsequent progress reports, Kistiakowsky and his colleagues tried to ensure that in its haste to deploy operational missiles as rapidly as possible, the administration did not neglect important research and development on the next generation of vastly improved missiles. Here, however, PSAC had mixed results. The scientists recognized that solid-fueled missiles would greatly strengthen the strategic deterrent because, unlike 338

the first-generation liquid-fueled variants, they could be

stored almost indefinitely in secure silos for instantaneous

launch in the event of hostilities. Moreover, the solid-

fueled Polaris missile, when married to a nuclear submarine,

would be virtually invulnerable. Eisenhower approved the scientists’ recommendation for a "well-conceived basic

research effort on solid propellants" to be located in ARPA.

At the same meeting, in an effort to rationalize the

overall missile program, Killian recommended that the

Pentagon not produce both the Air Force Thor and Army

Jupiter IRBMs. While Eisenhower at first seemed agreeable

to the notion, the proposal ran afoul of a longstanding

interservice feud. Killian and Kistiakowsky believed that

the Jupiter should be closed out because the Thor was closer

to quantity production. They also suggested that von

Braun’s ABMA team be transferred to ARPA or the civilian space program in NASA. Under intense pressure from ABMA chief John B. Medaris and Army secretary Wilbur Brucker, however, Secretary McElroy delayed closing out either of the

IRBM programs. The Army did not want to lose its only foothold in the missile mission, and Michigan native Brucker pointed out that terminating the Chrysler production line would cost jobs and votes for the administration in Detroit.

In effect, PSAC’s objective technical analysis ran directly up against what Eisenhower would later term the military- industrial complex. The result was that, for the moment, 339

both Thor and Jupiter went into production, at considerable

cost, and the Army temporarily retained control of its missile development team. Only after a prolonged

interagency battle did the ABMA finally transfer to NASA and

re-emerge as the Marshall Space Flight Center. 30 Eisenhower’s scientists encountered similar difficulties with the military-industrial complex over a

somewhat more exotic strategic program, the Aircraft Nuclear

Propulsion (ANP) program. The ANP was a joint Air Force-AEC venture designed to develop a strategic bomber of almost indefinite endurance by utilizing atomic energy. Despite what seemed to be insurmountable technical difficulties, such as producing a light-weight reactor and shielding the crew from harmful radiation, the project had commanded strong support from AEC Chairman Strauss, SAC Commander

Curtis E. LeMay, the powerful congressional Joint Committee on Atomic Energy, and the major industrial contractors:

General Electric, and Pratt and Whitney. Secretary Wilson had periodically attempted to curtail the project, only to find that the Air Force had siphoned off funds from other programs to keep it alive. In the aftermath of Sputnik, the

ANP’s supporters became bolder and demanded acceleration of the project in part to counter the psychological impact of the Soviet satellite. 31

Eisenhower refused to cave in to such pressure, and assigned PSAC to evaluate the technical merits of the 340 atomic-powered plane. As he had suspected, his scientists

quickly concluded that insufficient advances had been made

in reactor technology and materials to justify an "early-

flight" program. Eisenhower accepted their recommendations that the project continue to focus on fundamental research only, and the Pentagon cut the Air Force’s ANP request for

FY 1960 from $146.7 million to $75 million.^

The ANP coalition refused to give up easily, however, and the next year Eisenhower and his scientists again found themselves caught up in the same demands for an accelerated level of effort. This time, a completely false story in

Aviation Week, the leading journal of the aerospace industry, claiming that the Soviet Union was flight-testing its own nuclear-powered bomber served as the catalyst.

Again, Killian re-examined the technical merits of the ANP program and, in conjunction with York, the recently installed DDR&E, they agreed that insufficient progress had been made on the powerplant to warrant an early flight-test.

Any aircraft constructed based on the existing state of the art would weigh an astronomical 600,000 pounds and would

"barely fly, if at all." New AEC Chairman John A. McCone argued that even such a cumbersome aircraft might provide useful experimental data, but Eisenhower remained skeptical.

He "vehemently agreed" with York that the current project should focus on "the reactor-engine combination rather than the other elements of the progam." 341

Killian believed that the administration’s handling of the ANP project vindicated the new science advisory mechanisms that had been established at the White House and in the Pentagon. In this particular case, the administration successfully held off a combination of congressional, military, and agency pressure to embark on an expensive project of dubious value. As York noted at the time, $900 million had been spent on the ANP to date, largely because the Pentagon had lacked the technical expertise to check the project earlier. Now, however,

Killian believed that "we are ... in a position to make informed, critical, sound decisions on a very tough-minded basis, and reorient spending from unwise to much wiser and more necessary projects." 33

Despite the changed political environment brought on by the Soviet Sputniks, Eisenhower never wavered from his fundamental commitment to "security with solvency" and a defense policy geared to the "long haul." Although he successively abandoned his New Look budget ceilings of $34 billion and then $38 billion, he nevertheless enjoyed remarkable success in holding the line on defense expenditures. In constant dollars, the administration’s national security expenditures in calendar year 1960 were lower than in any other year since 1951. At the same time,

Eisenhower bequeathed a formidable strategic defense posture of manned bombers, land-based ICBMs and IRBMs, and fleet- 342 based IRBMs to his successor. This success in balancing fiscal prudence and military strength, particularly after

Sputnik, was due in no small measure to the advice and actions of Eisenhower’s scientists.

***

The elevation of SAC-ODM to the White House not only provided Eisenhower with technical competence to make informed decisions about major national security programs, but it also reopened the debate within the administration over possible disarmament initiatives, and particularly a ban on nuclear testing. Eisenhower’s scientists became the leading voice within the administration for a nuclear test ban agreement. Their judgement that a reliable control system was technically feasible reinforced Eisenhower’s personal convictions to seek a test ban and disarmament as a means of reducing international tensions, securing American goodwill around the world, and reducing the burden of armaments. Unfortunately, however, the test ban advocates ran into stiff resistance from the AEC, the Pentagon, and even other scientists. Eisenhower ultimately failed to achieve an agreement with the Soviet Union, but he nevertheless paved the way for a more limited test ban treaty a few years later.

With the appointment of Killian and PSAC, Eisenhower unwittingly brought into his administration a long-standing dispute within the nation’s scientific elite over nuclear 343

weapons, a feud that dated back to the hydrogen bomb

decision. Killian and PSAC, particularly former General

Advisory Committee veterans like Hans A. Bethe and Isidor I.

Rabi, had long supported the concept of a test ban as a

means of reducing international tensions and possibly

opening up the Soviet Union. They also believed that a test

ban would freeze an American advantage in nuclear weapons

technology. As far back as 1949, Rabi had proposed a test

moratorium as a means of preventing the Soviet Union from

developing a hydrogen bomb, but President Harry S. Truman

had felt compelled to initiate the thermonuclear development

program as a response to the Russian A-bomb. Now, however,

PSAC had a direct channel to the president through which to

press their views.^

Until Sputnik, the administration had received its

science advice on nuclear weapons largely from the "hawks"

in the hydrogen bomb debate, notably the AEC’s Edward

Teller, Ernest 0. Lawrence, and Mark Mills. Whenever AEC

Chairman Lewis L. Strauss, another of the original promoters

of the superbomb, sensed that Eisenhower might be softening

his position on nuclear testing, he arranged for one of his

scientists to brief the president on the compelling need for

further tests. The AEC scientists argued that only through continuous testing could the United States develop the diverse arsenal of weapons required by the military.

Failure to test would eventually raise questions about the 344

reliability of the stockpile. Moreover, given the

persistence of the Cold War and the Soviet Union’s repeated

refusal to submit to outside inspection, no test ban could

be reliably policed. Should the Soviet Union engage in clandestine tests, then the United States might suddenly find itself at a military disadvantage. Only when the Cold

War ended and the Soviet Union lifted its Iron Curtain

In the course of the next few months, these competing groups of supposedly objective scientific experts waged an ongoing battle for the president’s ear. Both sides focused on technical issues, but the political differences in large part determined the technical points that each made.

Eisenhower at first seemed somewhat puzzled at the failure of his scientific experts to reach a consensus on the test ban issue, and only gradually did he begin to understand the deep divisions between the former adversaries in the

Oppenheimer affair. Eventually, more from his own inclinations than from any technical argument, he leaned toward the PSAC position in favor of a test ban. 36

Killian’s group took the initiative early in 1958. In a January NSC discussion on the latest Russian offer for an uninspected nuclear test moratorium, Killian announced that

PSAC had already begun feasibility studies of a test ban.

Eisenhower, looking for a way to reduce tensions in the aftermath of Sputnik and also concerned about adverse world 345

reaction to continued atomic testing, authorized PSAC to

organize an interagency panel to study methods of policing a

test ban. At the end of March, Hans Bethe’s interagency

group reported to the NSC that a verifiable test ban was

"technically feasible." Bethe’s proposed inspection system

would require a combination of permanent instrument

stations, overflights, and on-site inspections. Armed with

this information, Eisenhower proposed to the Soviets a joint

conference of experts to study means of policing a possible

test ban agreement, and Soviet leader Nikita Khrushchev

accepted the invitation in May. In the meantime, at a

special PSAC retreat in Puerto Rico, the scientists unanimously decided to urge Eisenhower to pursue a test ban

agreement as an end in itself, free from any larger disarmament regime. 37

Throughout the summer of 1958, the Geneva Conference of

Experts hammered out the details of a possible control system. To safeguard the AEC’s interests, Strauss ensured that Ernest Lawrence accompanied the two PSAC members, James

Fisk and Robert F. Bacher, who made up the American technical delegation. The meeting eventually agreed upon the Geneva System of some 160 to 170 seismic posts worldwide to record underground shocks, supported by ten shipboard stations and numerous specially equipped aircraft. In order to differentiate between underground explosions and natural earthquakes, the system provided for on-site inspections of 346

suspicious events. The experts believed that the system

could effectively detect any explosions larger than 5

kilotons. Heartened by the scientists’ agreement, on August

22, 1958, Eisenhower called for Anglo-American-Soviet talks

for a test ban treaty, and announced that the United States would unilaterally cease testing for a year, beginning in October.^

No sooner had the Geneva System been announced than the

opponents of a test moratorium and a suspension agreement

began mobilizing in opposition. First, two AEC tests in

1958 seemed to raise doubts about the efficacy of the Geneva

System. Project ARGUS, a high-altitude shot, suggested that

tests in space above 100 kilometers could not be easily

detected. The Hardtack II underground test suggested that

seismographic readings might be less sensitive than earlier

anticipated. In addition to the new experimental data,

Edward Teller recruited scientists at the Los Alamos and

Livermore laboratories to devise schemes for thwarting the

Geneva System. Albert Latter eventually suggested that an

underground explosion conducted in a deep chamber might be

sufficiently muffled, or "decoupled," from the surrounding

earth to escape detection by seismographs. Bethe thought

that such an elaborate excavation would, in itself, be

detected, but he nevertheless had to concede the theoretical possibility of decoupling. 39 347

With the new experimental data and the decoupling

theory threatening to undermine the entire Geneva System,

Eisenhower and PSAC hit upon a fall-back position. Instead

of a comprehensive test ban, which now seemed to be

unenforceable, Eisenhower and Killian agreed early in 1959

that the United States should seek a partial test ban prohibiting atmospheric shots and underground shots above an

agreed upon yield. New technical talks in 1959 attempted to determine an acceptable threshold for underground shots.

Despite the continued vocal opposition of Teller, new AEC

Chairman John McCone, and the Pentagon, by the spring of

1960, Eisenhower was ready to accept a compromise agreement with the Soviets whereby each side would be entitled to a

fixed quota of on-site inspections each year.

Unfortunately, the downing of the American U-2 in May completely halted the steady momentum in the Geneva negotiations. In addition to cancelling his Paris Summit meeting with Eisenhower, Khrushchev backed away from the test ban talks. Shortly after, a disappointed Eisenhower

lamented to Kistiakowsky that "he saw nothing worthwhile

left for him to do now until the end of his presidency."^

Although the efforts of Eisenhower and PSAC to achieve a test ban agreement failed to produce results during

Eisenhower’s presidency, they nevertheless set in motion the process by which a limited nuclear test ban would ultimately be realized. When the political eventually climate changed 348 for the better after the Cuban missile crisis, President

John F. Kennedy followed through on the groundwork laid by

Eisenhower and his scientists. 349

1. John B. Medaris, Countdown for Decision (New York: Putnam, 1960), 153, 159-69; Herbert F. York, Making Weapons, Talking Peace: A Physicist’s Odyssey from Hiroshima to Geneva (New York: Basic Books, 1987), 107-09; James R. Killian, Jr., Sputnik, Scientists, and Eisenhower: A Memoir of the First Special Assistant to the President for Science and Technology (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1977), 119-20; Walter A. MacDougall, The Heavan3 and the Earth: A Political History of the Space Age (New York: Basic Books, 1985), 154. 2. Kistiakowsky to Killian, December 19, 1957, White House Office, Office of the Special Assistant for Science and Technology, Records 1957-1961 [hereafter, OSAST], Box 12, Folder: "Missiles, Nov-Dee 1957 (1)," Dwight D. Eisenhower Library, Abilene, KS [hereafter, DDEL].

3. Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower, 121— 22; MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth, 168.

4. Arthur L. Minnich notes of legislative leadership meeting, February 4, 1958, Dwight D. Eisenhower, Papers as President (Ann Whitman File) [hereafter, AWF], DDE Diary Series, Box 30, Folder: "Staff Notes February 1958," DDEL; York, Making Weapons, 111.

5. Ibid.; Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and Eisenhower, 285-86 .

6. U.S., President’s Science Advisory Committee, "Introduction to Outer Space," March 26, 1958, reprinted in Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and Eisenhower. 288-99; Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, February 7, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 30, Folder: "Staff Notes February 1958," DDEL; Record of Action PSAC Meeting February 7-8, 1958, U.S., President’s Science Advisory Committee, Records 1957-1961 [hereafter, PSAC], Box 5, Folder: "Records of Actions and Meetings -- PSAC," DDEL.

7. Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and Eisenhower, 125- 30; York, Making Weapons. 114-16; Enid Curtis Bok Schoettle, "The Establishment of NASA," in Sanford Lakoff, ed., Knowledge and Power: Essays on Science and Government (New York: 1966), 162-270.

8. PACGO memo for the President on Organization for Civil Space Programs, March 5, 1958, in Killian, Sputnik, Scientists, and Eisenhower, 280-87.

9. Ibid. 350

10. Ibid.; Goodpaster memo of Conference with the President, March 5, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 31, Folder: "Staff Notes March 1958 (2)," DDEL.

11. Special Message to the Congress Relative to Space Science and Exploration, April 2, 1958, Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: Dwight D. Eisenhower. 1958 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1959), 269-73 [hereafter, Public Papers, 19581; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 135-37; MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth, 174-75.

12. Main Problems in the Senate Bill Establishing a Federal Space Agency, July 7, 1958, and Wilton B. Persons, Memo for Record of Off-the-Record meeting between DDE and LBJ, July 7, 1958, both in AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 35, Folder: "Staff Memos July 1958 (2)," DDEL; Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, July 17, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 35, Folder: "July 1958 Staff Memos (1)," DDEL; Schoettle, "The Establishment of NASA," 259-60.

13. Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, October 26, 1957, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 27, Folder: "October 1957 Staff Notes (1)," DDEL; Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, October 8, 1957, in U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States, vol. 19: National Security Policy (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1990), 598-601 [hereafter, FRUS]. For Killian’s views on greater defense unification, see James R. Killian, Jr., and Albert G. Hill, "For a Continental Defense," Atlantic Monthly 192 (November 1953): 37-41; and U.S., Congress, Senate, Subcommittee of the Committee on Armed Services, Hearings on Study of Airpower, 84th Cong., 2d sess., 1956, 1171-1207.

14. Killian to Beckler, October 22, 1957, with attached "Strengthening our Military Science and Technology," Executive Office of the President, Office of Science and Technology, 1966, PSAC Records, Record Group 359 [hereafter, PSAC Records], Box 627, Folder: "PSAC Title Folder," National Archives, Washington, DC [hereafter, NA]; Beckler to Goodpaster, November 6, 1957, PSAC, Box 3, Folder: President’s Science Advisory Committee (3)," DDEL.

15. Arthur A. Kimball minutes of PACGO meeting with the President, October 10, 1957, U.S. President’s Advisory Committee on Government Organization, Records 1953-1961 [hereafter, PACGO], Box 3, Folder: "No. 21, Minutes and Notes for PACGO Meetings FY 1957 (1)," DDEL; Goodpaster memos of Conferences with the President, October 11 and 14, 1957, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 27, Folder: "October 57 Staff Notes (2)," DDEL. 351

16. Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, October 30, 1957, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 27, Folder: "October 57 Staff Notes (1)," DDEL; York, Making Weapons. 134-37.

17. Minnich minutes of Cabinet meeting, February 7, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 30, Folder: "Staff Notes February 1958," DDEL; Annual Message to Congress on the State of the Union, January 9, 1958, Public Papers. 1958. 8; U.S., Congress, Senate, Committee on Armed Services, Inquiry into Satellite and Missile Programs, Hearings Before the Preparedness Investigating Subcommittee of the Committee on Armed Services, 85th Cong., 1st and 2d sess., 1957-58, 2319- 20, 2340-41; York, Making Weapons. 138-42.

18. York, Making Weapons. 144-48; idem, Race to Oblivion: A Participant's View of the Arms Race (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1970), 116-19, 136-39; John Prados, The Soviet Estimate: U.S. Intelligence Analysis and Russian Military Strength (New York: Dial Press, 1981), 106-07.

19. For Eisenhower’s views on defense reorganization, see Goodpaster memo for Record of meeting held at White House with Chiefs and Secretaries of Military Departments, November 4, 1957, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 28, Folder: "November 57 Staff Notes," DDEL; and Minnich Cabinet minutes, January 3, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 30, Folder: "Staff Notes Jan 1958," DDEL.

20. Memo of Discussion at 245th Meeting of NSC, November 14, 1957, AWF, NSC Series, Box 9, Folder: "345th Meeting of NSC, November 14, 1957," DDEL.

21. Donna Mitchell notes (unedited) of PACGO meeting with the President on November 4, 1957, PACGO, Box 3, Folder: "No. 21, Minutes and Notes of PCGO Meetings FY 1957 (1)," DDEL.

22. Unsigned (Killian) draft, "Memo on Research and Development in the Department of Defense," January 14, 1958, OSAST, Box 6, Folder: "Department of Defense 1957 (2)," DDEL. For confirmation that Killian wrote this memo and sent it to McElroy, see C. A. Randall memo for the record, February 4, 1958, PACGO, Box 18, Folder: "No. 136, Defense -- Reorganization Proposals and Department of Defense Reorganization Act of 1958 (2)," DDEL.

23. Minnich notes of legislative leadership meeting, January 28, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 30, Folder: "Staff Notes Jan 1958,", DDEL; Coolidge memo for President, February 27, 1958, PACGO, Box 18, Folder: "No. 136, Defense -- Reorganization Proposals and Department of Defense 352

Reorganization Act of 1958 (2)," DDEL; Charles A. Coolidge Oral History, Columbia University Oral History Project [hereafter COHP]; Neil H. McElroy Oral History, COHP.

24. Special Message to Congress on Reorganization of the Defense Establishment, April 3, 1958, Public Papers, 1958. 284-85; U.S., Congress, House, Department of Defense Reorganization Bill if 1958, Communication from the President, 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, House doc. 371, 7-8, 11- 12. 25. Eberstadt to Carl Vinson, May 12, 1958, Ferdinand Eberstadt Papers, Box 43, Folder: "1958-61; 1963-64; Defense Department Reorganization Files: Vinson, Carl," Seely G. Mudd Library, Princeton, NJ, (I am grateful to Dr. Michael J. Hogan for a copy of this document); U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Armed Services, Reorganization of the Department of Defense. Hearings. 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, 6054-55, 6084-86, 6101-02, 6146-51, 6348-49, 6396; U.S., Congress, House, Department of Defense reorganization Act of 1948., 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, House Report 1765, 3, 15, 20, 33; U.S., Congress, House, Committee on Government Operations, Research and Development (Office of the Secretary of Defense), 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, House Report 2552, 6; U.S., Congress, Senate, Committee on Armed Services, Department of Defense reorganization Act of 1958, Hearings, 85th Cong., 2d sess., 1958, 82.

26. Report to the President by the Security Resources Panel of the ODM Science Advisory Committee on Deterrence and Survival in the Nuclear Age, NSC 5724, November 7, 1957, FRUS. 1955-57 19:638-61; Congressional Quarterly Almanac 14 (1958): 671; Rockefeller Brothers Fund, International Security: The Military Aspect (New York: Doubleday, 1958), 57-58.

27. For Eisenhower's cool response to the Gaither briefings, see FRUS, 1955-57 19:620-24, 630-35.

28. Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower, 148- 50.

29. Kistiakowsky comments on Report of the Special Assistant for Ballistic Missiles, December 19, 1957, OSAST, Folder: "Missiles, December 1957-May 1960," DDEL; Minnich Cabinet Minutes, January 3, 1957, DDE Diary Series, Box 30, Folder: "Staff Notes Jan 1958," DDEL.

30. Goodpaster memo of Conference with the President, March 11, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 31, Folder: "Staff Notes March 1958 (2)," DDEL; George B. Kistiakowsky, 353

A Scientist at the White House: the Private Diary of President Eisenhower’s Special Assistant for Science and Technology (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976), 75-76, 66-100, 124-25; MacDougall, The Heavens and the Earth, 195-200; Michael H. Armacost, The Politics of Weapons Innovation: The Thor-Jupiter Controversy (New York: Columbia University Press, 1969).

31. The early history of the ANP is detailed in U.S., General Accounting Office, Review of Manned Nuclear Propulsion Program of the Atomic Energy Commission and Department of Defense (Washington, DC: General Accounting Of f ice, 1963).

32. GAO Report. 154-56; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 178-80.

33. Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, June 24, 1959, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 42, Folder: "Staff Notes June 16-20, 1959," DDEL; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 180-84; York, Race to Oblivion. 64-74.

34. Rabi and Bethe’s views can be found in, Hans A. Bethe, "The Case for Ending Nuclear Tests," The Atlantic 206 (August 1960): 43-51; and Isidor I. Rabi, "The Cost of Secrecy," The Atlantic 206 (August 1960): 39-42.

35. Goodpaster memo of conference with the President, June 24, 1957, FRUS. 1955-57 20:638-40; Edward Teller, "Alternatives for Security," Foreign Affairs 36 (January 1958): 201-08; Teller and Albert Latter, "The Compelling Need for Nuclear Tests," Life 44 (10 february 1958): 64-72.

36. DDE Diary Note, October 29, 1957, in Robert H. Ferrel, ed., The Eisenhower Diaries (New York: Norton, 1981), 348-49; FRUS. 1955-57 19:615-17.

37. Record of Action, PSAC Meeting, April 8-10, 1958, PSAC Records, Box 5, Folder: "Records of Actions and Meetings," DDEL; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 150-58; Gregg Herken, Cardinal Choices: Presidential Science Advising from the Atomic Bomb to SDI (New York: Oxford University Press, 1992), 109.

38. Robert Gilpin, American Scientists and Nuclear Weapons Policy (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1962), 162-99; Killian, Sputniks. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 160-63; Public Papers. 1958, 635-36.

39. Bethe, "The Case for Ending Nuclear Tests," 43-51; Killian, Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower. 166-67. 354

40. Kistiakowsky, Diary, 375; Goodpaster memos of conferences with the President, January 6, 1958, and January 12, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 38, Folder: "Staff Notes Jan 1958 (2)," DDEL; and Goodpaster memo of Conference with the President, February 25, 1958, AWF, DDE Diary Series, Box 39, Folder: "Staff Notes Feb 1958 (1)," DDEL. CONCLUSION

President Eisenhower’s Farewell Address, particularly his warnings about the growing influence of the "military-

industrial complex" and the danger of public policy becoming

"the captive of a scientific-technological elite," provoked a certain degree of surprise and concern in the scientific community. George B. Kistiakowsky, who had succeeded

Killian as the president’s special assistant for science and technology in mid 1959, received numerous calls from his colleagues asking whether Eisenhower was "turning against science." Several members of the President’s Science

Advisory Committee (PSAC) also wondered what the president’s words really meant. The day after the speech, during a farewell party for the White house staff, Kistiakowsky explained the scientists’ concerns to Eisenhower.^

The minor controversy apparently surprised and disturbed Eisenhower. The president quickly sought to reassure Kistiakowsky and the PSAC that he remained committed to federal support for basic scientific research, and that his reference to a "scientific-technological elite" did not imply any criticism of his own science advisers.

What troubled him, he explained, was the "rising power of

355 356

military science," particularly the danger that the nation’s

academic institutions might become too dependent on large-

scale military research and development contracts to the

detriment of their primary function as centers for the

0 acquisition of new scientific knowledge. Later, Eisenhower told former PSAC member and first director of

defense research and engineering Herbert York that the

"scientific-technological elite" he feared actually

comprised the "hard-sell technologists who tried to exploit

Sputnik and the missile-gap psychosis it engendered," along

with their allies in the military services, industry,

Congress, and the press. With regard to his own science

advisers, Killian remembered with obvious pleasure how

Eisenhower frequently referred to them as "my scientists."

During his final illness, in fact, the dying former

president told Killian that "this bunch of scientists was

one of the few groups that I encountered in Washington who

seemed to be there to help the country and not help themselves.

His subsequent disclaimers notwithstanding, the

president perhaps said more than he knew in his Farewell

Address. Despite his persistent concern that the United

States not degenerate into a "garrison state," with the

federal government playing an increasingly dominant role in

the allocation of national resources for the Cold War,

Eisenhower actually presided over an unprecedented peacetime 357

mobilization of American science and technology. In Fiscal

Year 1953, the United States spent approximately $5.2

billion on research and development, with the federal

government accounting for some 53 per cent of the total. In

FY 1961, Eisenhower's last full year in office, total

national research and development expenditures amounted to

$14.6 billion, and the federal government's share had risen

to 63.7 per cent. In the same time period, defense research

and development expenditures, including both Defense

Department and Atomic Energy Commission outlays, rose from

$2.5 billion to $7.2 billion, representing a proportional

increase from 47.4 per cent to 49.2 per cent of the total

c national research and development effort. Under

presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon B. Johnson, the

federal share of total national research and development

expenditures would eventually peak at 65.3 per cent, but

defense research and development would never exceed the

Eisenhower era high of 49.2 per cent of all research and

development spending. Clearly, despite Eisenhower’s

continued adherence to "security with solvency" for the

"long haul," the New Look’s reliance on "military formations

which make maximum use of science and technology in order to

minimize numbers in men" actually entailed greater federal

participation in the nation’s research and development.

Under Eisenhower, in fact, science and technology became

vital elements in the total Cold War struggle, and 358

maintaining supremacy in research and development became an g article of national security policy.

Given the importance attached to science and technology

as instruments of national power in the Cold War, it was

perhaps inevitable that Eisenhower would ultimately create his own scientific-technological elite for independent

expert advice. Nevertheless, the creation of the post of

special assistant to the president for science and

technology and of the President’s Science Advisory Committee owed much to the persistence of the nation’s scientific

leaders. During the Great Depression, Karl T. Compton and

Isaiah Bowman first broached the idea of a scientific advisory board to the federal government as a mechanism for both shaping a national science policy and providing

technical advice to the government on wider policy issues.

Although unsuccessful at the time, their recognition that

the old laissez-faire era in government-science relations was over and that scientists needed to seek government support and sanction for their actions had a profound

influence on later scientific statesmen. Vannevar Bush,

Compton’s friend and protege, pursued these ideas further by assisting in the mobilization of science for World War II.

He also laid the groundwork for new postwar institutions,

like the Atomic Energy Commission and the National Science

Foundation, designed to integrate science more fully into the state while simultaneously preserving a degree of 359 professional autonomy. With the Sputnik crisis, James

Killian, another Compton protege, finally fulfilled William

T. Golden’s concept of an independent presidential science adviser and supporting committee to bring science and technology to bear more fully on top-level national security policymaking.

The rise of Eisenhower’s scientific-technological elite not only represents an important development in the mobilization of science for the Cold War, but it also illustrates a major theme in twentieth century America. The

Science Advisory Committee to the Office of Defense

Mobilization (SAC-ODM), and later the special assistant for science and technology and the PSAC, are further examples of the corporatist tendency in modern American history. Like similar private elites in the business sector, agriculture, and organized labor, the nation’s scientific leaders organized themselves both to safeguard their own interests and to exert influence over national policies. Through such mechanisms as the AEC, the NSF, and the various presidential advisory mechanisms, leading scientists from government, industry, and academia shaped national science policy and provided technical inputs into national security policymaking. The emergence of Eisenhower’s science advisers, then, should be viewed as another example of the 1 corporatist trend toward public-private powersharing. 360

Not surprisingly, once the scientists assumed positions of influence at the top levels of government, many of the

Eisenhower administration’s policies bore the imprint of the scientists’ own interests and ideology. Under steady prodding from his science advisers, Eisenhower oversaw a 360 per cent increase in federal funding for basic research, rising from $234 million in FY 1953 to $841 million in FY

1961. Moreover, federal funding for basic research in universities and colleges rose from $73 million to $382 million, representing a proportional increase from 31 per cent to 45.4 per cent of all federally-funded basic research. This increased support for basic research, particularly through the universities, clearly reflected the academic scientists’ "best science" ideology of promoting fundamental knowledge by supporting the best researchers in the nation’s leading private institutions.

The scientists’ ideology also shaped the new institutional arrangements devised in the aftermath of

Sputnik. The creation of the special assistant for science and technology and the President’s Science Advisory

Committee established a direct channel between the nation’s scientific elite and the president, finally securing the scientists’ longstanding goal of scientific and technical inputs into top-level policymaking. Similarly, the Advanced

Research Projects Agency and the director of defense research and engineering in the Department of Defense 361 significantly upgraded research and development in the

Pentagon by securing top-notch, in-house scientific and technical expertise. Finally, the legislation establishing the National Aeronautics and Space Administration ensured civilian predominance in space science and provided for a degree of public-private powersharing in the formation of national space policy. In all of these areas, the scientists attempted both to ensure that science and technology would be integrated into national security policymaking, and that scientists themselves would have a significant voice in shaping national policies for science and technology.

By the end of Eisenhower’s term, the nation’s scientific elite had been fully integrated into the top levels of the national security state. The special assistant for science and technology and the PSAC comprised the nation’s scientific statesmen. With such private leaders as MIT president Killian, Harvard chemist

Kistiakowsky, Polaroid president Edwin Land, AT&T vice- president James B. Fisk, and IBM chief scientist Emmanuel

Piore, Eisenhower’s science advisers effectively represented the elite of the nation’s premier research universities, private foundations, and science-based corporations. In short, despite Eisenhower’s warning, certain aspects of public policy had already become "the captive of a scientific-technological elite." 362

1. George B. Kistiakowsky, A Scientist at the White House: The Private Diary of President Eisenhower's Special Assistant for Science and Technology (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1976), 424-25; Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: Dwight D. Eisenhower. 1960-61 (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1961), 1038-39; Dwight D. Eisenhower, The White House Years, vol. 2: Waging Peace. 1956-1961 (Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1965), 614-16. 2. Kistiakowsky, Diary, 425; Kistiakowsky letter cited in Graham DuShane, "Footnote to History," Science 133 (10 February 1961): 355.

3. Herbert F. York, Race to Oblivion: A Participant's View of the Arms Race (New York: Simon and Schuster, 1970), 10-13.

4. James R. Killian, Jr., Sputnik. Scientists, and Eisenhower: A Memoir of the First Special Assistant to the President for Science and Technology (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1977), 241; James R. Killian, Jr. Oral History, Columbia University Oral History Project, Dwight D. Eisenhower Library, Abilene, KS [hereafter COHP, DDEL].

5. All statistics have been rounded to the nearest 0.1 billion, and are taken from Historical Statistics of the United States: Colonial Times to 1970 (Washington, DC: U.S. Bureau of the Census, 1975), 965.

6. See, for example, Basic National Security Policy, NSC 5602/1, March 15, 1956, in U.S., Department of State, Foreign Relations of the United States. 1955-1957. vol. 19: National Security Policy (Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1990), 244-57.

7. For useful introductions to the corporatist them in modern American history, see Ellis W. Hawley, "The Discovery and Study of a 'Corporate Liberalism,’" Business History Review 52 (Autumn 1978): 309-20; and Michael J. Hogan, "Corporatism: A Positive Appraisal,” Diplomatic History 10 (Fall 1986): 363-72. BIBLIOGRAPHY

PRIMARY SOURCES I. Manuscript Collections

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363 364

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National Resources Committee, Research — A National Resource. 2 vols. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1938-40.

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Public Papers of the Presidents of the United States: Harry S. Truman. 1945-1952. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1961-66.

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Science -- The Endless Frontier: A Report to the President by Vannevar Bush. Director. OSRD. July 1945. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1945.

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Steelraan, James R. Science and Public Policy. Vol. 1: A Program for the Nation. Washington, DC: Government Printing Office, 1947.

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III. Diaries, Memoirs, and Contemporary Accounts

Acheson, Dean G. Present at the Creation: My Years in the State Department. New York: Norton, 1969.

Adams, Sherman. Firsthand Report: The Story of the Eisenhower Administration. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1961.

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Beckler, David Z. "The Precarious Life of Science at the White House." Daedalus 103 (Summer 1974): 115-34.

Berkner, Lloyd V. "Science and National Strength." Physics Today 6 (July 1953): 9-11.

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The Bird Dogs. "The Evolution of the Office of Naval Research." Physics Today 14 (August 1961): 30-35.

Bontecou, Eleanor. "President Eisenhower’s ’Security’ Program." Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 9 (July 1953): 215-20. 368

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Bush, Vannevar. Modern Arms and Free Men: A Discussion of the Role of Science in Preserving Democracy. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1949.

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Byrnes, James F. All in One Lifetime. New York: Harper and Brothers, 1958.

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Larson, Arthur. Eisenhower: The President Nobody Knew. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1968.

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Morse, Philip M. In at the Beginnings: A Physicist’s Life. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1977.

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Murray, Thomas E. Nuclear Policy for War and Peace. Cleveland, OH: World Publishing, 1960.

Oppenheimer, J. Robert. "The International Control of Atomic Energy." Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 1 (1 June 1946): 1-5.

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Piore, Emmanuel R., and Kriedler, Robert N. "Recent Developments in the Relationship of Government to Science." Annals of the American Academy of Political and Social Science

Price, Don K. "The Deficiencies of the National Science Foundation Bill." Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists 3 (October 1947): 291-310.

Rabi, Isidor I. "The Organization of Scientific Research for Defense." Proceedings of the Academy of Political Science 24 (May 1951): 356-61.

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Strauss, Lewis L. Men and Decisions. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1962.

Szilard, Leo. Leo Szilard: His Version of the Facts. Edited by Spencer Weart and Gertrude Weiss Szilard. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1978.

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Teller, Edward, and Brown, Allen. The Legacy of Hiroshima. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1962.

Teller, Edward, and Latter, Albert. "The Compelling Need for Nuclear Tests." Life 44 (10 February 1958): 64-72.

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IV. Contemporary Periodicals and Biographical Directories.

Aviation Week and Space Technology.

Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists.

Chemical and Engineering News. 373

Congressional Quarterly Almanac.

Current Biography.

Fortune.

Li f e .

New York Times. Newsweek.

Physics Today.

Science.

Scientific Monthly.

Time .

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