Clashes over the military use of space, usually a result of proposals to fund politically controversial weapons programs, have agitated and unsettled the country at various times throughout the space age. But though the world has changed, the intellectual and doctrinal foundations underlying the debate have not.
Since 1967, the Outer Space Treaty has banned the deployment of nuclear weapons in space. But what about other weapons? Although the United States has no plans to do so, it could deploy antisatellite (ASAT) or space-based ballistic missile defense (BMD) interceptors using conventional explosives or high velocity impact. Currently, the Pentagon has technology development programs for the Kinetic Energy ASAT and the Space-Based Laser. In the long term, satellites or space planes could be designed to exploit high-energy laser, electromagnetic pulse, or high-power microwave technologies to degrade targets in space or on earth. President Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative explored the feasibility of many such weapons systems. To some, these new-era tools of war hold out special military promise; to others, they represent a security and foreign relations nightmare.
Political excitement over the use of space also ripples through the foreign policy arena. Prompted by U.S. discussions and war games featuring space control and BMD weapons, in February 2000 the Chinese delegation to the United Nations Conference on Disarmament circulated a paper identifying "a present and pressing necessity" to prevent an arms race in outer space. A treaty forestalling the "weaponization" of space, argued the delegation, would have "the greatest bearing on global peace and security."
Moscow agrees with Beijing on this subject. Russian officials regard the 1972 U.S.-Soviet Anti-Ballistic Missile (ABM) treaty, which prohibits nationwide defenses against intercontinental ballistic missiles, as a bulwark against ideas for basing BMD interceptors and other conventional weapons in orbit. Russian President Vladimir Putin offered to host an international conference in 2001 to explore ways to prevent the "militarization" of outer space and enhance the current regime of international space law.
Historically, America’s vision has been that space should be free for transit and exploitation by all governments and private entities, provided such activities pose no harm to U.S. interests or security. Questions surrounding, first, the enforcement of this vision and, second, the possible use of space to strengthen America’s military prowess naturally will arise as the country struggles to resolve a more radical uncertainty: For purposes of national defense, should space be treated like the land, sea, and air? Or is there something different and sacrosanct about this forbidding environment?
Despite marked physical differences among the earthly and orbital environments, in my view there really are no meaningful characteristics that allow us to consider them differently from the point of view of policy and strategy. The ability to leverage outer space will continue to grow in importance for modern military forces and may make possible even more effective forms of combat.
Yet there are those who reach the opposite conclusion concerning the potential impact of space weapons on national security and international peace. They have argued their case in learned journals, the popular press, and before congressional committees — in many cases, repeating arguments first made decades ago. It is past time for a thorough review of the case for halting the progress of weapons at the edge of Earth’s atmosphere.
Stability then and now
The case for treating space as a sanctuary is grounded in two central concerns. The first is that the introduction of space weapons would radically destabilize security relationships. The second is that arming the heavens would undermine U.S. foreign policy by unnecessarily torturing relationships with allies (and potential warfighting partners) — and would cause anti-American coalitions to form and wage political and economic warfare against U.S. interests abroad.
The case against combat activities in space draws heavily on 1950s-vintage theories of strategic stability that evolved to support U.S. policy on nuclear weapons. As policy makers gave up on early disarmament initiatives on practical grounds, many who pondered defense schemes in a world with nuclear weapons focused on arms control and theories about the stability of deterrence. Responsible leaders sought political solutions and the establishment of international legal mechanisms for methodically reducing nuclear arms and improving transparency and predictability in decision making. This security approach sought to eliminate the possibility that the United States or the Soviet Union would perceive an opportunity for a "first strike" against the other. Such fears of nuclear instability and the escalation of regional conflicts have survived the Cold War and enliven commentary on national security today.
In this view, the military use of space has both stabilizing and destabilizing potential. Satellites perform nonthreatening, largely benign, and stabilizing military functions that contribute to nuclear deterrence and transparency. But weapons in space, especially antisatellite weapons, would risk impairing the very instruments and sensors we deploy in orbit to monitor potential enemies and maintain reliable communications. Reconnaissance satellites observe arms control compliance and provide strategic warning of an impending crisis. Infrared sensors on early warning satellites detect ballistic missile launches and, together with observation spacecraft, remain central pillars of peace and stability in the international system. A sudden attack against such spacecraft, in this view, would lead at once to heightened alert status and would aggravate instability in command structures. In today’s Russia, the situation may be even more dangerous, given the deterioration of command and control capabilities since the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991.
Misperceptions falling out of cloaked activities in space could lead to war and prime a conflict for escalation to higher levels of destruction, in this reasoning. Indeed, one may draw parallels with the famous gunfight at the OK Corral. When the first shot rang out in Tombstone, Ariz., the reflexive response of all was to shoot wildly at anything that moved. Assuming the proliferation of space weapons and a similar instance of provocation, combatants would be tempted to respond in a similar fashion. Each side would have very little time to assess the threat and select an appropriate response.
The deployment of space weapons, in the view of their critics, would accordingly increase sensitivity to vulnerability and needlessly heighten fears and tensions, thereby undermining deterrence. Out of fear of losing everything in a surprise war, a "first strike" against space assets (possibly a prelude to a first nuclear strike) could well make this fear self-fulfilling. In conflict, communications would be hindered, and our decision cycles would slow to the point at which we would not understand the events unfolding in space. The "fog of war" would assume a new density.
In the view of space weapon critics, this is not the only danger. The deployment of spacecraft to gather and channel information of importance to the armed forces has militarized space already; but, they ask, can we not now draw the line to prevent the weaponization of space in a dangerous new arms race? After all, U.S. leaders ought not to assume that they can acquire space weapons unchallenged. Other states would respond. Moreover, those going second (or third or fourth) might have an easier time of it. They would strive to capitalize on years of American research and development, avoiding along the way early mistakes and exorbitant development costs. For prestige, foreign governments will not want to be left behind in this "Revolution in Military Affairs." Indeed, out of self-interest, other states eventually would acquire capabilities to affect the course of war in space and even to strike the United States.
To build weapons for use in space, in this view, would be to recklessly disregard American history — in particularly, U.S. experience with multiple, independently targetable reentry vehicles, or MIRVs. Our attempt to gain a technological edge over the Soviets in the 1970s backfired, critics argue. What resulted was a Soviet campaign to match and eventually surpass the U.S. MIRV capability. When the dust settled, each side had acquired the technology to increase substantially the number of warheads and destroy with alarming efficiency the other’s nuclear forces. We might, in this account, expect a similar result after Washington deploys its first space weapon.
Upending foreign policy
Finally, critics assert, failure to exercise restraint in space arms would risk upsetting U.S. foreign policy and destabilizing international relationships. The United Nations has provided platforms for denouncing the militarization of space since the late 1950s, when U.S. Ambassador Henry Cabot Lodge expressed the hope before the General Assembly that "future developments in outer space would be devoted exclusively to peaceful and scientific purposes." Over the years, various U.N. state representatives have pleaded with the major powers to take the lead in preserving the purity of this environment.
In this view, deploying arms in environments unexploited by other states would earn for Washington the enmity of capitals around the world. They would see the strongest country in the world trying to become even stronger — and doing so in untraditional, unparalleled ways. This very condition would make it harder to retain friends and allies. The shadow of such weapons would alarm foreign capitals, much as the launch of Sputnik unnerved Washington.
The negative effect of space weapons on foreign opinion could have far-reaching consequences. The multinational coalition assembled by Washington to throw Iraqi forces out of Kuwait in 1991 might not have been possible if the United States had deployed space weapons in disregard of political sensitivities exhibited by the partnership countries. Washington’s military plans, moreover, would provoke a costly hostility among potential adversaries and neutral parties in the absence of major threats.
Washington’s October 1997 test of the Mid-Infrared Chemical Laser (MIRACL), developed under President Reagan’s Strategic Defense Initiative, against a dying U.S. Air Force satellite touched off some spirited international opposition. On balance, this experiment — a test of the ability of a laser based at White Sands, N.M., to degrade the effectiveness of a satellite’s optical and infrared sensors — received scant attention in the foreign media. Yet a few editors, pundits, and analysts in Western Europe and Asia condemned and belittled Washington’s development of systems to paralyze enemies by depriving them of their eyes and ears in space. To them, this event clearly signaled a new round in the arms race, and to many it foretold the revival of Reagan’s "Star Wars" plan.
The idea of space warfare must create in the minds of government leaders around the world vivid images of merciless domination by a state with the power to rain fire upon unyielding enemies. Does Washington really want to conjure this image, critics ask. Do the American people want to provoke an arms race that, in the end, could leave their homes less secure once other states follow the U.S. lead?
Prudence counsels Washington to accommodate the concerns of other governments, in this assessment. The sensibility underlying this course is time-honored. In the words of Federalist No. 63:
An attention to the judgment of other nations is important to every government for two reasons: the one is that independently of the merits of any particular plan or measure, it is desirable, on various accounts, that it should appear to other nations as the offspring of a wise and honorable policy; the second is that in doubtful cases, particularly where the national counsels may be warped by some strong passion or momentary interest, the presumed or known opinion of the impartial world may be the best guide that can be followed.
The principles of sound government, therefore, demand we pay heed to foreign opinion.
Academic assumptions
The case against deploying weapons in space rests on a number of assumptions, often unstated. A careful look at the validity of these assumptions reveals serious problems — in many cases undermining the conclusions the critics draw.
One such assumption is that military developments over the past 50 years have created a security environment in which certain tactical events or localized crises run an unacceptably high risk of triggering a general, possibly even nuclear, war. We are therefore more secure when we do nothing to upset the global military balance, especially in space — where we station key stabilizing assets.
Yet we have little experience in reality to ground this freely wielded and rather academic assumption. By definition, anything that causes instability in armed relationships is to be avoided. But would "shots" in space, any more than shots on the ground, be that cause?
When we look at what incites war, history instructs us that what matter most are the character and motivation of the states involved, along with the general balance of power (i.e., are we in the world of 1914, 1945, or 2001?). Fluctuations in national arsenals, be they based on earth or in space, do not determine, but rather more accurately are a reflection of, the course of politics among nations. In other words, it matters not so much that there are nuclear weapons, but rather whether Saddam Hussein or Tony Blair controls them and in what security context. The same may be said for space weapons.
The sway of major powers historically has regulated world stability. It follows that influential countries that support the rule of law and the right of all states to use orbits for nonaggressive purposes would help ensure stability in the age of satellites. The world is not more stable, in other words, if countries like the United States, a standard-bearer for such ideas, "do nothing." Washington’s deterrence and engagement strategies would assume new dimensions with the added influence of space weapons, the presence of which could help bolster peacemaking diplomacy and prevent aggression on earth or in space.
Insofar as we have no experience in space warfare, no cases exist to justify what is in essence a theoretically derived conclusion — that space combat must be destabilizing. We do know, however, that the causes of war are rarely so uncomplicated. Small events, by themselves, seldom ever explain large-scale events. When ardent Israeli nationalist Ariel Sharon visited this past fall the holy site around the Al Aksa Mosque at Jerusalem’s Temple Mount, his arrival fired up a series of riots among impassioned Palestinians and so widened the scale of violence that it kicked up the embers of regional war yet again. Yet the visit itself would have been inconsequential were it not for the inveterate hostility underlying Israeli-Palestinian relations.
Likewise, World War I may have symbolically begun with the assassination of Archduke Ferdinand in Sarajevo. Yet a serious student of history would note that the alliances, the national goals and military plans, and the political, diplomatic, and military decisions of the major European powers during the preceding years and months were the true causes of the erosion in global strategic stability. By extension, if decisions to go to war are set on a hair-trigger, the reasons for the precarious circumstances extend far beyond whether a communications or imaging platform is destroyed in space rather than on earth.
Those who believe we run extraordinary risks stemming from clouded perceptions and misunderstandings in an age of computerized space warfare might want to take a look at some real-world situations of high volatility in which potentially provocative actions took place. Take, for example, the tragedies involving the USS Stark and USS Vincennes. In May 1987, an Iraqi F-1 Mirage jet fighter attacked the Stark on patrol to protect neutral shipping in the Persian Gulf, killing 37 sailors. Iraq, a "near-ally" of the United States at the time, had never before attacked a U.S. ship. Analysts concluded that misperception and faulty assumptions led to Iraq’s errant attack.
The memory of the USS Stark no doubt preoccupied the crew of the USS Vincennes, which little over a year later, in July 1988, was also on patrol in hostile Persian Gulf waters. The Vincennes crew was involved in a "half war" against Iran, and at the time was fending off surface attacks from small Iranian gunboats. Operating sophisticated technical systems under high stress and rules of engagement that allowed for anticipatory self-defense, the advanced Aegis cruiser fired anti-aircraft missiles at what it believed to be an Iranian military aircraft set on an attack course. The aircraft turned out to be a commercial Iran Air flight, and 290 people perished owing to mistakes in identification and communications.
To these examples we may add a long list of tactical blunders growing out of ambiguous circumstances and faulty intelligence, including the U.S. bombing in 1999 of the Chinese Embassy in Belgrade during Kosovo operations. Yet though these tragic actions occurred in near-war or tinderbox situations, they did not escalate or exacerbate local instability. The world also survived U.S.-Soviet "near encounters" during the 1948 Berlin crisis, the 1961 Cuban missile crisis, and the 1967 and 1973 Arab-Israeli wars. Guarded diplomacy won the day in all cases. Why would disputes affecting space be any different?
In other words, it is not at all self-evident that a sudden loss of a communications satellite, for example, would precipitate a wider-scale war or make warfare termination impossible. In the context of U.S.-Russian relations, communications systems to command authorities and forces are redundant. Urgent communications may be routed through land lines or the airwaves. Other means are also available to perform special reconnaissance missions for monitoring a crisis or compliance with an armistice. While improvements are needed, our ability to know what transpires in space is growing — so we are not always in the dark.
The burden is on the critics, therefore, to present convincing analogical evidence to support the notion that, in wartime or peacetime, attempts by the United States to control space or exploit orbits for defensive or offensive purposes would increase significantly the chances for crisis instability or nuclear war. In Washington and other capitals, the historical pattern is to use every available means to clarify perceptions and to consider decisions that might lead to war or escalation with care, not dispatch.
Drawing a line in space
The U.S.. and Soviet experience with MIRVs is often brought up to show how Washington’s "naïve" foray into missile madness provoked Moscow to respond in kind. But to arrive at this conclusion, one must suspend all awareness of the strategic context surrounding the MIRV decision and assume that America had (and still has) a monopoly on knowledge. While the United States appeared to lead the Soviet Union in mirv technology, throughout the Strategic Arms Limitation Talks of the early 1970s, which featured the MIRV negotiations, Soviet missile engineers were already busily integrating the technology into their systems. At the time, it was generally expected that Soviet planners, who demonstrated true MIRV technology as early as 1973, would fully exploit this new innovation. U.S. actions, in other words, do not deserve blame for having provoked a Soviet countereffort.
Could we stop the historical progression of weaponry at the edge of earth? From the perspective of the strategist, a "line" between outer space and the atmosphere is strictly conceptual. Nothing in the world of tactics, operations, or strategy, and nothing in the logic of deterrence or the grammar of warfare, says there must be such a line. This leaves only the possibility of political decision to make it so. But the absence of universal political will means there is no practical way to enforce supporting treaties, laws, and proclamations.
One may ask, just because the United States unilaterally refrains from developing antisatellite weapons or space-based lasers, why do we assume that other countries will pause right alongside Washington? After all, not all innovations in war stem from provocation. While weapons developed and deployed by rival states surely influence decision making, it is unlikely that states procure weapons systems primarily to achieve a balance in arsenals. Some states certainly may strive to have what we have, but they also will strive to acquire and master those weapons that meet their unique security requirements.
Washington’s very reliance on satellites for security, moreover, would appear to be a more plausible motivation behind any hostile state’s desire to acquire satellite countermeasures. While China might wish to integrate ASATs into its arsenal to offset Washington’s deployment of ASATs as part of a deterrence strategy ("you hit one of mine, I’ll hit one of yours"), Beijing is likely to be more inclined to acquire satellite countermeasures independently of what Washington does in order to degrade U.S. space advantages, which may be used to support Taiwan.
To argue that states must follow Washington and deploy space weapons out of self-interest is to ignore the fact that self-interest has many faces. In the end, foreign officials must weigh personal, national, and party priorities and strategic requirements, understand political tradeoffs, and assess whether the national treasury and domestic resources could support plans to "match" U.S. weapons. Haiti’s security needs will not match those of Serbia, Iran’s will not match Canada’s, and India’s will not match those of the United States. Space control weapons, one must conclude, would not fit very well in the defense strategies of many nations. Foreign leaders, in other words, are not automatons. Between action and reaction always lies choice.
No more coalitions?
It is further assumed that deploying arms not possessed by other states in regions unexploited by other states would put the United States in a position to coerce, even terrify, other nations. One must note, however, that Washington already has the power to tyrannize and bully with its current arsenal — but it does not. The United States deploys unparalleled — even "uncustomary" — nuclear and conventional military forces and engages in peace and combat missions on a global basis. Yet the face of overwhelming American military might neither alarms allies nor incites aggression. The U.S. retreat from several forward bases and its positive global leadership, moreover, belie suspicions that, in this unipolar world, Washington harbors imperialist ambitions.
Recent criticisms surrounding the MIRACL test and the U.S. National Missile Defense program were well orchestrated and vociferous, but numerically shallow when put up against the larger body of international opinion. In fact, voices will inevitably rise, from all corners of the globe, to condemn U.S. military decisions and actions. Political assault is the price the United States pays for having global interests and power. There will always be attempts by foreign leaders and vocal minorities to influence U.S. procurement decisions through arms control and public condemnation. It costs little, and the potential gains are great.
Would a vigorous military space program alienate foreign governments to the point at which Washington could never again assemble a coalition similar to the one that defeated Saddam Hussein in 1991? This is doubtful. Leading up to the onset of war, the Iraqi leader’s actions, not President Bush’s initiatives, dominated foreign policy discussions abroad. Indeed, many Arab countries joined the coalition, despite America’s stout support for the much-hated Israel. Any significant anti-American rhetoric was quickly overshadowed by the singular goal of turning back naked aggression.
Similar international support may be expected in the future, even if the United States were to deploy space-based interceptors to slap down ballistic missiles aimed at New York or Los Angeles or antisatellite weapons to blind prying eyes in times of crisis or conflict. When the stakes are high and the United States must act militarily in self-defense or to protect its interests, allies and friends are likely to judge U.S. activities in space to affect politico-strategic conditions on Earth appropriately and in context.
What about the Federalist’s advice to seek the counsel of foreign parties to help resolve domestic policy squabbles? But the Federalist refers to impartial advice. To be impartial is to view both sides of a debate equally and without prejudice or bias, as would a judge. An infant nation far distant from the powerful capitals of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century might have little difficulty finding such counsel. Yet can we now say that in the foreign criticism thrown at the United States concerning its ASAT, ballistic missile defense, or directed energy programs, we can discern the voice of impartiality? Do we hear a voice of neutrality coming out of Beijing or Moscow? Can we declare with candor that Paris or Ottawa are sufficiently poised and disinterested to counsel Washington objectively? On this issue, politics divides hearts the world over.
Stability revisited
Whether the vast, empty ocean enveloping Earth will be traversable for military purposes and a battlefield where major political stakes are decided may be, ultimately, not a question for policy or deliberation but an inevitability. Yet having been brought up on a steady diet of bumper-sticker slogans concerning space and strategic stability, the country remains intellectually unprepared to discuss and deal with grave defense and foreign policy decisions involving space. "ASATs are destabilizing" and "space must remain a sanctuary" are punchy trumpet blasts, but they are not expressions of sober strategic thought.
A confident military power should strive to influence and be capable of controlling activities in all geographic environments affecting its prosperity and security. The United States does so on the land with its armies and border guards, at sea with a world-class navy, coast guards, and fortified bases, and in the air with fighters, bombers, and air defense assets.
Responsible leaders, it seems to follow, should strive to ensure a similar ability to influence and control activities in space. Given the increasingly commercial and international character of satellite operations, we must expect that America’s public and private interests one day will be challenged or even attacked. To leave the initiative to others is to expose U.S. interests to the whims of the ambitious, the cunning, and the truculent.
A second reason for exploring new military uses of space is that they could provide our leadership and commanders life-saving options. Consider this. In fourth century bc Athens, the modern thinkers of the day proposed designing cities without traditional defenses — which included a street layout designed to confuse an invading enemy and a fortified wall around the city. Those who objected to such "old-fashioned" concepts proposed laying the streets out in tidy rows to improve the city’s appearance. Removal of the costly and aesthetically offensive walls would avoid a hostile appearance that might unnecessarily provoke Athens’ neighbors.
Critics of this "new thinking" believed that, while a visually pleasing and open city would be attractive, one should not adopt this approach at the expense of safety. The suggestion to remove the walls irked the more defense-minded, especially in light of the fact that the armies of the time were introducing new missiles and machines for improving sieges. The advocates for the city’s strategic defenses — the walls — argued that the city’s leaders would retain the option of treating the city as an open city, whereas the option of defense would not be available to leaders who chose to ignore the city’s military requirements. Particular weapons, in other words, do not commit a country to a particular policy course; rather, they offer offensive and defensive options in a world that often punishes inflexible policies and is unforgiving of those who blunder through decisions that can make the difference between war and peace.
Finally, strength at home and assertiveness abroad have ensured stability for the United States and much of the world during the past century. Capricious misfortune and aggression, after all, are the bane of the republic — and of international security. Military strength can help the United States and its allies direct chance more favorably and, in the worst of times, deter and turn aside aggression.
Vast practical consequences will fall out of policy choices concerning the nature of American space power, especially as they affect the composition of U.S. forces, military organization, and security strategy. The new administration and Congress must help the American people overcome a habit of viewing space weapons in isolation from America’s purpose. Should military requirements warrant and cost permit, space weapons could be invited to join the rest of the arsenal to secure American interests and contribute to global strategic stability.
The United States and its allies should resist enchantment with slogans that divert attention from new security possibilities, especially ballistic missile defense, which ought to be viewed in the broader context of space power. Far from jeopardizing stability and peaceful uses of space, American military power exercised on the edge of earth would contribute to world peace and freedom.
