Among books on the arms race, Donald MacKenzie's stands out for its welcome demystification of the "black box" of nuclear weapons technology. MacKenzie follows one line of technology - strategic ballistic missile guidance - through a succession of weapons systems to reveal the ordinary workings of a world that is neither awesome nor unstoppable. He uncovers the parameters, the pressures, and the politics that make up the complex social construction of an equally complex technology.MacKenzie argues that it is wrong to assume that missile accuracy (or any other technological artifact) is a natural or inevitable consequence of technological change. By fostering an understanding of how the idea of accuracy was constructed and by uncovering the comprehensible and often mundane processes that have given rise to a frightening nuclear arsenal, he shows that there can be useful and informed intervention in the social processes of weapons construction. He also shows in what sense it is possible, contrary to the common wisdom, to "uninvent" technologies.Examining the technological politics of the transition from bomber to ballistic missile, MacKenzie describes the processes that transformed both air force and navy ballistic missiles from moderately accurate countercity weapons to highly accurate counterforce ones. He concludes that neither the United States nor the Soviet Union has ever accepted the idea of deterrence as the public understands it.Inventing Accuracy is based on 140 interviews with guidance and navigation technologists, navy and air force military officers, and defense officials Robert McNamara, James Schlesinger, McGeorge Bundy, and John Foster. It brings to light the confluence of forces, both physical and social, that gave rise to a selfcontained system of missile navigation, and it discusses the major U.S. groups involved in the early development of inertial guidance and navigation.Donald MacKenzie has published a number of influential articles on statistics, eugenics, and missile technologies.
He is Reader in Sociology at the University of Edinburgh.
Donald Angus MacKenzie FBA FRSE FAcSS (b.1950) is a Professor of Sociology at the University of Edinburgh, Scotland.
His work constitutes a crucial contribution to the field of science and technology studies. He has also developed research in the field of social studies of finance. He has undertaken widely cited work on the history of statistics, eugenics, nuclear weapons, computing and finance, among other things. Works
At the time this book was published (1990) neither the US nor any other country at the time had ever actually tested an intercontinental ballistic missile (ICBM) under the conditions in which they were designed to be used: the distance, the weight, the payload, the ascent, or the descent. All of these factors were tested in isolation but never all together. Yet at that moment of history, the accuracy of ICBMs was not doubted enough for them to stop being a key component of nuclear deterrence. So were ICBMs accurate? It’s actually a way more complicated (and interesting) question than you might realize.
The main task of the book is to take what is understood to be a fact of missile guidance systems (i.e., that they are accurate) and to determine how solid that fact really is. It’s less solid than you might think because there is no single way to understand what accuracy means. It is something that we understand in the abstract, as being within a certain distance of a target, but in other activities, accuracy is a bit looser. Sometimes accurate means exact, but sometimes it simply means close, or it only means more accurate than the person you are competing with.
To illustrate this point, MacKenzie devotes chapters to the science of missile guidance systems, to gyroscopes, and gyroscopic control. He details the problems that were scientifically identified and overcome with technological innovation. Big changes in the guidance paradigms resulted in big jumps in accuracy (conventionally understood), but getting additional improvement beyond that required refinement of processes and supporting technologies. Even after eliminating big sources of noise, engineers were left to deal with the long tail of additional noise that accounted for smaller portions of the overall accuracy problem. But accuracy is not strictly a technological issue. Each new advancement, however, created additional or different needs related to accuracy (93), all of which nudged the definition of accuracy.
This is where politics and the military start to intercede in determining ICBM accuracy. Factors such as fog of war, operator stress, and reaction time further complicate what was taken to be accurate. Accuracy under testing conditions, firing into and over known terrain, with adequate time for preparation, and under other idealized test conditions yields accuracy that may decline under less than ideal circumstances. There are also complications due to cloud cover, frequency jamming, and hacking that prevented the military from using other more traditionally accurate guidance systems (e.g., celestial navigation, radio navigation, fly by wire, piloted bombers) meaning the military was more willing to accept a different specification of accuracy under the constraints of the situation.
Politics as well imposed its own requirements — when talking about nuclear missiles, how accurate do they actually need to be? The accuracy demands also change with political priorities. If the priority is counterforce, then high (conventionally defined) accuracy is required. But if the purpose of having ICBMs is deterrence because of Mutually Assured Destruction (MAD) rather than actual use, then what one accepts as losses in accuracy one makes up with quantity of missiles (237). In this entanglement of politics and technology, MacKenzie argues that “technology was politics pursued by other, harder means, and was understood to be so by insiders” (294). With each layer, MacKenzie shows that what counts as accurate is not reducible to either the technology, to politics, or to the military but neither is it completely independent of those influences.
Readers who are familiar with Actor Network Theory (ANT) will recognize some clear resonances with the research done here. In ANT, facts are irreducible and cannot be traced back to one moment from which they inevitably develop. What makes facts into facts are the networks of actors who are aligned, according to their interests, to give obduracy to fact. Some of those actors (e.g., gravity, chemicals, entropy, institutions) will be more stable over time and less likely to defect from the facts they support than people and other agents that are more fickle. In terms of missile accuracy, MacKenzie summarizes it as “the nuclear world is not above politics as an autonomous determining factor, nor beneath it as a dependent effect, but part of it” (412).
I didn't enjoy this book as much as I had hoped to. I think I had expected it to be a more technical account of the gyro technology and its evolution. While it did provide some detail on this and some interesting anecdotes about the challenges with manufacturing, its main focus was the politics and societal factors that drove the development of the various technologies. I shouldn't have been surprised by this fact given the title ("A Historical Sociology..."), but I had hoped for a bit more technical detail.
Given that I've read a few books and articles about the development of rocket technology for the space program and for spy satellite launches, it was quite interesting to see the overlap with the technology developed for strategic nuclear missiles.
Some of the most interesting parts of this book for me were: * How little the fundamental gyro and accelerometer technology changed between the V2 and modern ICBMs * The difficulty involved in knowing the initial location and orientation of the missile, and how this was addressed for various missile programs in the US and USSR for land-stationary, land-mobile, and sub-based missiles * How much of an "art" there is to manufacturing inertial systems for strategic nuclear weapons, and the difficulties of scaling the lab-developed systems to a deployable system. * The politics around ICBM accuracy both domestically and internationally (the core focus of the book)
Esta obra es un clásico de la sociología de la tecnología por una razón simple: cambió cómo se piensa el armamento estratégico.
Hasta entonces, la narrativa dominante sobre los misiles nucleares era determinista: la tecnología avanza, la precisión mejora, y eso es solo física e ingeniería progresando por su propio peso. MacKenzie destruye esa idea con 140 entrevistas a ingenieros de guiado, militares y responsables de política de defensa como Robert McNamara.
Un ejemplo muy concreto: MacKenzie reconstruye cómo se desarrolló la plataforma inercial estabilizada, el corazón del sistema de guiado de los misiles balísticos. Muestra que el laboratorio del MIT liderado por Charles Draper no se impuso porque su tecnología fuera objetivamente superior, sino porque ganó las batallas burocráticas frente a alternativas como el guiado por radio o por estrellas. La precisión no fue un descubrimiento, fue una negociación entre laboratorios, contratistas y fuerzas armadas que competían por presupuesto y relevancia institucional.
Otro ejemplo: el libro documenta cómo Estados Unidos pasó de misiles "countercity" (apuntar a ciudades, donde el error de unos kilómetros no importaba) a misiles "counterforce" (apuntar a sitios con enemigos atrincherados, donde se necesitaban errores circulares de pocos cientos de metros). MacKenzie muestra que ese salto de precisión no respondió solo a necesidad estratégica real, sino que la propia disponibilidad de tecnología más precisa generó la doctrina que la justificaba. La capacidad técnica creó la demanda, no al revés.
Por lo tanto, la tesis central es lo que el autor llama "constructivismo social de la tecnología": la precisión no es una propiedad natural que la tecnología revela progresivamente, sino algo construido socialmente mediante decisiones de ingenieros, presupuestos militares y rivalidades entre departamentos.
La mayoría de libros técnicos sobre misiles te explican cómo funciona un sistema de guiado inercial: giroscopios, acelerómetros, ecuaciones de navegación. MacKenzie hace algo distinto: trata la tecnología como objeto sociológico, no como objeto de ingeniería. No pregunta "¿cómo funciona el giroscopio?" sino "¿por qué este giroscopio y no otro, y quién decidió que la precisión debía mejorar, y por qué nadie cuestionó si hacía falta?".
¿Recomiendo el libro? Un rotundo NO. Es un tostonazo, y lo raro es que no lo parezca. Un auténtico ladrillo, sin ningún ánimo de ocultarlo, de un libro puramente técnico entre los técnicos.
Más entretenido hubiera sido ver un vídeo de Youtube al respecto.
A fascinating book on politics and technology, examining the contingency of technological development through an analysis of the history of nuclear missile guidance until the end of the 1980s. Increased accuracy is not an inevitable or natural consequence of technical change, but rather the product of a complex process of conflict and cooperation between various social actors, such as technologists, laboratories and corporations, and political and military leaders. The book provides a good antidote to technical and political determinisms, coupled with accessible explanations of relevant technical concepts, which are crucial for understanding how seemingly small "technicalities" become focal points in political disputes over visions of the future of certain technologies.
If you're interested in technical history of computing and/or military guidance systems how can you not love this odd treasure chest of a book. It feels like your grandfather taking you through his attic, giving you brief descriptions of most of it and a few lovingly remembered deep dives into things he worked on and cared about.
This is four books in one; The first half of the book is a summary of every computer system ever built in the 1940's, 50's and 60's. It's like having a guide as you walk through the backroom of the Computer History Museum in Mountain View. The next part of the book is a detailed survey of all U.S. cruise and ballistic missile programs from 1940's until today. Then finally a survey of all Soviet/Russian cruise and ballistic missile programs from 1940's until today.
Overlaid on the cruise and ballistic missile programs is a description of the guidance systems of each one. There are details from the authors personal experience in designing these systems not found anywhere.
This is a tremendously well-researched book about guidance systems. It takes the reader from the beginning steps of navigation to guiding a missile from an obscure part of the world to a target the size of a dinner plate. A big part of the book centers around two massive obstacles; politics and physics. From the political side, different departments and companies worked together while fighting like dogs. How accurate does it need to be? A huge political question that goes far beyond rational thought into intimidating the enemy. From a physical side, Donald discusses physics at a high level without getting into the mathematics or material sciences. In addition, the inventions occur at the dawn of modern computing. Of course, at this cutting edge, things did not work out as planned. This is a great historical book that captures the broad history of navigation, guidance, computers, engineering, inventing and government. I learned a lot about an obscure topic that now touches every part of modern technology and society.
About as dry as a sterile lab for gas gyroscope manufacture. This is not the book’s fault —it’s my prof’s — but the problem with assigning a book that’s three decades old is that everyone in the grad seminar has read Latour by now and it’s just not that mind-blowing anymore to be like: “politics… technology… they are the SAME zomg!” What *is* the book’s fault is that some people, like Phaedra Daipha, manage to exhaustively teach you about a technology, a techno-culture, and the sociology behind them, and even make a sophistical theoretical argument while they’re at it, *while being engaging and readable,* and this author can’t.
Anyway, if you’ve never read any ethnography or sociology of science published post-1995, this may yet have something to give to you. Alternately, if you are very interested in the history and technicalities of the nuclear missile, it might be worthwhile.
“Changing people’s perceptions and gathering resources…was at least as important a part of the process as writing equations and drawing blueprints.”
For a book that’s over 30 years old at the time of reading, it remains fairly representative of dynamics of politics and industrial competition even today. It’s reflection on relevance with respect to world events less so, but still reasonable.
“The single most important lesson of this book is the fallacy of this technological determinism. What we have found is that technological change is social through-and-through. Take away the institutional structures that support technological change of a particular sort, and it ceases to seem “natural”—indeed ceases altogether”
As the current deterrence zeitgeist is supposedly migrating to AGI, the analogy of imagining a world without cars is interesting but less inspiring than I’d like.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
A fascinating entry in the social construction of technology genre. He shows how nuclear missile guidance systems evolved not along logical scientific pathways, but rather were shaped by social and political factors.
Molto interessante per farsi un'idea di tutto quello che ruota attorno al mondo degli arsenali nucleari, peccato sia stato scritto nell'89 e non copra la dottrina moderna.
There is a prevalent belief that certain avenues of technological change are natural and inevitable, but for very expensive and difficult technologies this isn't necessarily true.
The last few pages of the book deals with non-proliferation- the author claims that because there are no inevitable technologies that the elimination of nuclear weapons and the prevention of their re-development is very possible.
This book could really use an addendum with information learned after the collapse of the USSR, but I would guess that most information concerning missile guidance has stayed secret, and that since the West is no longer as concerned with Russian missiles that we have not learned much new information through other channels.
Page 238 - Islands of non-capitalism existing in places like Draper Labs not unlike the design bureaus of the Soviet Union. I'd extend this further to point out that every corporation or similar body exists to buffer it's employees against raw capitalism- and if left unchecked this buffering cannibalizes the market through monopoly and reinvents central planning with all it's failings (or even more failures, since at least the state that does central planning is responsible to its citizens, where the monopoly organization only has its shareholders).
It's theorized that the design bureaus were more isolated from each other and this lead to greater differences between say missile guidance and aviation guidance than what was seen in the US at the same time.
Since the collapse of the Soviet Union large aerospace companies in the US have consolidated to the point of eliminating competition except at the international level, which may be a step inferior to having at least a handful of design bureaus with enforced separation.
Page 325 - The Soviets were less trustful of software and used voting systems in their missiles while the US employed single-string architectures. This lead to the joke observation that the Soviets had a dictatorship domestically but democracy in their missiles while the US had dictatorship in their missiles but democracy domestically.
-The possibility that a system or theory can be tested (even if it is impractical to do so) raises the reliability or stature of that versus one that cannot be tested. This comes up when the book discusses the infrequency and limited nature of ICBM tests. I would apply this to Intelligent Design vs. evolution- the fact that evolution as it occurs over millions of years can be tested by waiting around for those millions of years and observing the changes makes it a better theory than one where there is no expectation that we will observe in the future the activities of creator aliens/gods, because their creative acts may have been one time events.
The 'certainty trough' is an interesting model of faith in a system's capability: on the x-axis you have a measure of a person's knowledge of a system, on the other you have their certainty. People who know little or nothing about the system and the organizations and technologies involved don't have much faith in it, the trough region is all those who have read the datasheet or marketing materials or equivalent and take it at face value, and finally on the end where uncertainty ramps up again there are those very intimately involved in the production of the system and are aware of the all the design flaws and past test failures.
This is a very detailed history of inertial navigation/guidance and how the development and refinement of this technology intertwines with the development of intercontinental ballistic missiles (and the submarines that launch them). The author argues persuasively that advances in this technology were not inevitable, but were contingent on the larger political issues of the day and the smaller scale politics of rivalries between Navy, Army and Air Force and between individual scientists with different ideas about the right approaches to take (George Gamow was skeptical of the entire concept of inertial navigation, due to apparent conflicts with general relativity), and uses his detailed study of this field's history to draw larger conclusions about history and technology in general. If you're interested in the history of inertial navigation and guidance, you'll love this book - and even if you're not, you might be interested in the chapter in which Mackenzie discusses what this example says about the history of technology.
An informative, if often long-winded history of the development of nuclear missile guidance. It gets caught up in the somewhat contrived sociological aspect of the story sometimes, but it balances this with excellent references to interviews.
I got about half-way through and gave in. It was not as dry or meticulous as you would think, the first chapter or two required some mathematics. I think I gave up because I never really looked forward to getting back to reading it, although I enjoyed it when I did. The book is pretty gold, which makes it harder to enjoy. I also enjoyed the discussion of (US) government contracting, as I am (recently) a Contracting Officer's Representative. The way the government does business has changed significantly. Just because I didn't finish it, you may like it.