William Langewiesche’s new book is a compelling mix of narrative reporting, profiles of striking individuals, and scenaric thinking about the contemporary nuclear proliferation. His focus is on the mechanisms by which access to nuclear weapons technology is broadening, and what this broadening access means about the likelihood that terrorists will be able to launch a nuclear attack on a Western target. The book focuses strictly on the threat of full-blown nuclear bombs, disregarding the question of radiological attacks.
The most interesting chapter in the book addresses the question of what it would take for would-be nuclear terrorists to put together a bomb without state sponsorship. Artfully weaving together detailed reporting of on-the-ground conditions facing would-be nuclear terrorism entrepreneurs with vivid scenaric imaginings of how they would have to conduct their business in the face of that environment, the narrative takes the reader on an virtual journey along the route that illicit nuclear material would have to travel to get to the United States in the form of a bomb.
Langewiesche begins in Russia, looking at nuclear facilities that indeed seem to be lightly guarded. What it would take for nuclear material from one of these facilities to somehow end up in the hands of terrorists who would want to use it to attack the United States? He dismisses as improbable the possibility that material stolen by strong-arm methods could make it out of the country. An inside job would be feasible, he concedes, but this raises the question of how an insider would execute the necessary next steps: getting it out of the country (say, via the Caucasus) would still be difficult; finding a trusted buyer (say, in Istanbul) almost impossible; secretly constructing a bomb from the material fraught; and smuggling the device (say, across the Mexican border) to its intended target challenging. Langewiesche notes that each step would require dealing with a different network of bad actors, any of whom might betray the process. One of Langewieche’s most arresting passages comes with his programmatic suggestion as to how the US might want to collaborate with some of these bad actors:
"A tired joke often repeated is that the best way to transport an atomic bomb is inside a bale of marijuana. The point, of course, is that the borders are wide open. The analogy, however, is fundamentally misleading, because a small amount of highly enriched uranium (HEU) is worth far more than any conceivable load of narcotics, and it moves in a miniscule marketplace as a one-shot deal, dangerous to everyone involved, difficult to replace, and of infinitely greater importance to stop. Indeed, the proximity between the two trades may seem an unfortunate coincidence, but it could be turned into a fortunate one if the differences were exploited in a quiet conversation with a few key people. The problem is that those people are not likely to be local officials. Finding them would require casual exploration along the preexisting line of defense, in remote valleys below high mountain passes, around certain ports, and especially along the national boundaries that cross smuggling routes—borders aligned primarily east and west in Central Asia, and north and south on the Caucasian side of Caspian Sea. More fundamental, it would require accepting that regions beyond government control are rarely as chaotic as they seem to be to Western officials. The foundation work for effective interdiction would involve poking around meekly, usually by taxi, sometimes with an amateur translator and guide. The purpose would not be to recruit peasant armies and spies, but to get a feel for the informal or nongovernmental functioning of power. In most areas, only two or three people are at the top, and they tend to be at once aggressive and benevolent men with interests larger than just the movement of drugs. Their names would quickly become apparent. Some might be dangerous to approach, but most would be hospitable to strangers. On the second or third trip back, a Western agent might make it known that if ever a load of genuine HEU showed up, a large bounty would be paid…."
On the basis of decades of reporting from lawless regions, Langewiesche concludes that these smuggle routes, which appear to Western eyes terribly threatening, are in fact “tightly sewed up, nothing moves without notice, and any transborder activity requires approval.” The trick is to have the patience to find out who the real authorities are, and the temerity to partner with them.] His summary judgment is that, absent a state sponsor, a non-state actor would have little chance of successfully pulling off a nuclear attack.
Having dismissed the prospect of freelancing nuclear terrorists, Langewiesche turns his attention to a different global market for nuclear weapons, the very active one in which states rather than private actors are the buyers. Here Langewiesche recounts with brio the story of Pakistan’s chief nuclear engineer Abdul Qadeer Khan, who led Pakistan into the nuclear weapons club in 1998, while at the same time running a vast business selling nuclear bomb-making technology to other states. The arc of Khan’s life runs from his childhood as a refugee of the Indian partition in the 1940s; to Holland in the 1970s, where Khan developed the expertise to build bombs and stole the necessary blueprints; through the 1980s, when Khan, now back in Pakistan, set up a series of front companies that allowed him to buy, mainly from European engineering companies, the “dual use” equipment (above all, centrifuges) necessary for Pakistan to enrich uranium; to the 1990s, when Khan leveraged his job as the hero of Pakistan’s nuclear program to build a lucrative personal business empire selling bomb-making technologies to clients such as Libya, North Korea, Iran, and more. Langewiesche argues that although vanity and cupidity motivated Khan’s business, it was his powerful resentment about the “second class citizenship” of the Global South that helped him justify it, and his hero-status in Pakistan’s corrupted political culture that made him believe that he could get away with it.
The final chapter deals with the unraveling of Khan’s business. For most of the decade before 9-11, Khan was hiding his business as the world’s leading nuclear proliferator in plain sight. Relying exclusively on open sources, a sharp-eyed nuclear industry journalist named Mark Hibbs reported through the 1990s and into 2004 on Pakistan’s central role as a nuclear proliferator, helping to create a public record of events that US counter-proliferation experts continue to claim that US clandestine services knew nothing about. In the end, Khan’s fall came through a complex series of events, the linchpin of which was the decision of his Libyan customers in late 2003 to come clean about the fact that they had contracted with Khan and Pakistan for a $100m turnkey nuclear weapons facility. Confronted by the CIA with undeniable evidence of Khan’s activities, Pakistani President Mushareff in February 2004 placed Khan under house arrest and forced him to make a public mea culpa. By that time, of course, Iranian enrichment efforts were already in swing, and the prospect of a second unstable Islamic country getting a bomb loomed large.