Feature

A View to a Kill

Unlike capital punishment in the United States, Japan's death penalty is on the rise. Japanese officials keep state executions out of public view and shrouded in secrecy. Not even the condemned prisoners know the day they will die. Step inside the gallows for a rare look at how Japan takes a life.

Tamaki Mitsui was a bit surprised one Friday when his boss gave him his instructions for the following Monday: to serve as a witness at two hangings. Mitsui, an official of the Nagoya High Court Prosecutor's Office, which handles criminal appeals, had argued for the death penalty in three cases himself. He knew that Japanese law requires representatives of the prosecutor's office to witness executions. But he had thought this duty would be assigned by lottery. Still, he accepted it. Part of the job, he thought.

When Monday came, Mitsui took a subordinate with him to the Nagoya Detention Center. It is one of seven Japanese jails where capital offenders await execution -- and then go to the gallows. Shortly after 9 o'clock in the morning, Mitsui, his deputy, the director of the detention center, and another prison official sat in a row behind a floor-to-ceiling glass barrier. On the other side of the glass was the death chamber: an empty room, about 18 feet square, with bare white walls and a polished floor of light brown Japanese cypress wood. Dangling from the ceiling, illuminated by floodlights, was a noose. The only sound was the prerecorded chanting of a Buddhist sutra. Mitsui found the setting oddly serene. "It's bizarre to say this, but it was a beautiful place," he recalls, "like a Noh theater."

Then, a set of double doors on the far side of the execution chamber swung open. The prisoner, escorted by a pair of guards, walked in.

It was Nov. 19, 1998, and Tamaki Mitsui was about to see something very few people in the world ever have. In Japan, a high wall of secrecy surrounds the gallows -- perhaps only the Imperial Palace is more insulated from public view. No member of the press is allowed to witness hangings. Nor are the families of either the condemned prisoner or his victims. No official descriptions or accounts are published. Executions are not announced until after the fact, and even then official spokespeople say only that they have occurred. (The names of the people hanged leak out from lawyers and family members.) Civil servants ordered to witness executions are required by law to keep silent. Even members of the Diet, Japan's parliament, get no access. When a nine-person delegation from the Diet visited Tokyo's gallows in 2003, it was the first such tour in 30 years. The lawmakers were forbidden to see a hanging or to take photographs.

I spent two months reporting on the death penalty in Japan during the summer of 2004, and Mitsui's was the only eyewitness account of a relatively recent execution I could find. Mitsui, 60, is a trim, slightly nervous man with an officious air -- and, it must be acknowledged, a controversial figure in Japan. He was arrested in 2002 on charges of accepting expensive entertainment from gangsters and falsifying a residency certificate in order to obtain an illegal tax break. But the arrest came on the very day he was about to tell a Japanese television program about rampant slush fund abuses in the prosecutor's office. He pleaded not guilty, accusing his former colleagues of a politically motivated prosecution. In February 2005, the Osaka District Court acknowledged that his claims of selective prosecution should be investigated, but nonetheless convicted him on five of six bribery counts. He is free on bail pending his appeal.

Clearly, Mitsui has an ax to grind. And our meeting was arranged by Forum 90, Japan's leading anti-death penalty organization. But his conflict with the Ministry of Justice is unrelated to capital punishment. Although he evinced some ambivalence about what he saw in the gallows, he indicated that he is not an active opponent of the death penalty. His account squared with the few details about the Japanese gallows that have trickled out through other sources. Nobotu Hosaka, a former opposition member of the Diet who joined the delegation that toured the Tokyo gallows in 2003, says the place he and his colleagues visited matches Mitsui's description of the Nagoya death chamber, except that in Tokyo the floor was covered by a carpet. Government officials confirmed certain aspects of Mitsui's description. "On the death penalty, he would seem to have no reason to lie or puff," says David T. Johnson, a professor of sociology at the University of Hawaii who interviewed Mitsui as part of a long-term study of Japan's criminal justice system.

Mitsui's story has special relevance now. Not only is Japan the only member of the Group of Seven industrialized countries other than the United States to retain capital punishment, it is also increasing its use of the death penalty. Thanks to declining murder rates and concern over recent death row exonerations, death sentences are on the wane in the United States, reaching 130 in 2004 -- the lowest number in any year since the United States Supreme Court reinstituted capital punishment in 1976. But, in Japan, the authorities have responded to a recent surge in street crime, and to such events as the 1995 sarin poison gas attack on the Tokyo subway, by seeking more death sentences. The 18 death sentences issued by Japanese trial courts in 2002 were the most in a single year since 1961, when 29 people were sentenced to die. Brushing off criticism from the United Nations Human Rights Commission, the Council of Europe, and Amnesty International, Japanese trial courts sentenced 55 people to death between 2000 and 2003, as many as in the previous 11 years combined. Two men were executed in Japan in 2004, a typical rate for recent years, though two or three times that number is not unusual. This figure is far below the rate in the United States, where 59 people were executed in 2004. But it appears that, in the coming years, more and more people will be led to Japan's gallows.

A Time to Die
Although the conflict between the United States and Europe over capital punishment is well known, Japan's determined retention of the death penalty shows that the global death penalty debate is not strictly trans-Atlantic. There is also a wide gap between Europe and the democracies -- established and emerging -- of Asia. Of the Asian countries with freely elected governments, India, Indonesia, the Philippines, South Korea, Sri Lanka, Taiwan, and Thailand all have capital punishment. This list, to be sure, encompasses a range of death penalty policies. Taiwan is in the process of phasing out capital punishment, while in Thailand, a nation of 65 million people, there are almost 1,000 men and women currently under sentence of death, many for drug offenses.

The man stepping through the double doors on that November morning six years ago was 61-year-old Tatsuaki Nishio. In his younger days, he had been a gang leader. Between 1976 and 1977, he committed three crimes in the Nagoya area: He directed a subordinate to strangle a 48-year-old employee of a Nagoya construction company and attempted two other murders. The Supreme Court of Japan denied his last appeal in 1989. On the day of his execution, prison guards awakened him and informed him it was his time to die. In Japan, death row prisoners are not told in advance of their execution dates -- a practice international human rights organizations condemn as a form of psychological torment.

But the government argues that the process is compassionate and prudent, insisting that advance notice would create unnecessary anxiety when prisoners should be adjusting to the inevitable. "A death row inmate is every day waiting for death, so it is easily understood that he may easily be emotionally destabilized," says Satoru Ohashi, an assistant director of the Ministry of Justice's Correction Bureau. "And if he becomes emotionally destabilized, he may commit suicide, escape, or harm the prison staff." Additionally, it is said, publicity about individuals on death row would invade the privacy of their families, who feel shamed or ostracized because of their criminal kin.

Death penalty opponents say the Ministry of Justice's real purpose is to break the inmates' will, to discourage extended appeals. "If you have no one to help you and you have access to clergy who say, ‘You committed a crime, so accept death,' and you live every day staring at a wall, who wouldn't begin to want to die?" says Yuichi Kaido, a prominent defense lawyer who represents capital defendants. "This kind of treatment induces them to give up retrial petitions." Japanese opponents of the death penalty note that at least some death row inmates, or their families, were given notice of their pending executions until about 30 years ago. According to a 2001 article by Kaido, condemned inmate and murderer Kiyohachi Horikoshi was actually permitted to meet his mother the day before his execution in December 1975. But, a month later, Kiyoshi Okubo, another convicted murderer, was executed without warning, and no one else has been given advance notice since then. The timing of the change, opponents argue, shows that it was meant to counteract a 1975 decision by the Supreme Court of Japan that loosened the requirements that death row inmates must meet to win a new trial. The court decision encouraged many new retrial petitions, which were previously rare.

If that was the government's true intent, it did not entirely succeed. The eventual result of the 1975 ruling was the exoneration and release of four men who had been on death row since being convicted of murder and sentenced to death in the decade after World War II -- but who had always insisted on their innocence. In each case, there were serious questions about the handling of evidence and the methods authorities used to extract confessions. Perhaps the most notorious such miscarriage of justice involved Sakae Menda, who in 1948, at the age of 23, was convicted of a double ax murder. The conviction was based on the contradiction-riddled testimony of a prostitute and Menda's own confession, extracted after spending 80 hours in a police station without sleep.

The Ministry of Justice tightened its procedures after those cases, which were part of the reason Japan suspended executions for 40 months between November 1989 and March 1993. Yet some problematic aspects of Japan's death penalty system remain essentially unchanged. Perhaps the most basic -- the authorities' reliance on confessions -- is not unique to capital cases.

Traditionally, Japanese courts have treated a defendant's own admissions as more persuasive than other evidence, including circumstantial evidence or even forensics. Although suspects have a theoretical right to remain silent, they may also be held and questioned without access to a lawyer for up to 23 days. Even after they have contacted an attorney, they are not entitled to have counsel present during questioning. As a result, the Japanese criminal justice system has been plagued by allegations of physical and psychological abuse during interrogation. From an American perspective, it seems incredible that confessions are not given to the court as either tapes or verbatim transcripts. Rather, they are rewritten and summarized by the authorities themselves.

The Longest Minutes As it happens, there was no serious question of Tatsuaki Nishio's guilt, though the government waited to execute him until he exhausted his legal claims. That is standard Ministry of Justice policy; however, the authorities reserve the right to proceed with an execution if they feel an inmate is simply filing repetitive or baseless appeals. By the time Nishio appeared before Mitsui, he would also have been offered a final meal or some sweets, a cigarette, and a meeting with the clergy of his choice. The government says the condemned may draft a last-minute will, but anti-death penalty campaigners say this is sometimes nothing more than a few words hastily murmured to a guard.

When he stepped through the double doors, Nishio was blindfolded and dressed in a white cotton robe, Mitsui says. His hands were bound behind him. His feet were bare. The guards led him to a square marked in the middle of the floor, directly beneath the noose. One guard placed the noose around his neck. Nishio stood there for a moment, silent, seemingly calm, bathed in lamplight.

Then, without warning, the square beneath Nishio's feet, a trap door, swung open. He dropped straight down. The noose tightened. Nishio's neck snapped, and he stopped moving. His body now hung in a separate room downstairs.

As Nishio dangled there and the minutes dragged by in silence, Mitsui began to grow uneasy. What were they waiting for? Eventually, he turned to the director of the detention center and asked: "Why so long?" Japan's prison law refers to a minimum hanging period of five minutes. But the director replied simply that this was the way things are done. The witnesses returned to their silent vigil.

Finally, after 30 long minutes, the director ordered Mitsui and a prison doctor to go downstairs and examine Nishio. On the lower level, Mitsui noticed that there was no theater-style floor, just bare concrete. With the guards' help, Mitsui and the doctor laid Nishio down and stripped off his robe and blindfold, in accordance with the prison law, which provides that "the countenance of the dead shall be inspected after hanging." They rolled the body back and forth, noting that it was unscathed except for a bruise on Nishio's neck. There was no question: The sentence had been carried out.

As I listened to Mitsui, it was clear that he had been made extremely anxious and uncomfortable by that 30-minute wait, for reasons that he could not quite articulate. His disquiet made me wonder what the Japanese public would think if they knew, in detail, what he knows. Toyoko Ogino, an interpreter I worked with in the coal-mining town of Omuta, was surprised when I told her that prisoners were hanged. "I thought that was just an expression," she said. Perhaps greater information would make no difference: Polls indicate that public support for capital punishment is even stronger in Japan than in the United States -- more than 81 percent in a February 2005 survey.

Nor is the use of hanging as a method of execution controversial in Japan. It has been all but abandoned in the United States, in part because of fears it might subject prisoners to unnecessary suffering, especially if the noose fails to work as designed. But, apart from a 1961 decision by the Supreme Court of Japan, which found that hanging does not violate the postwar Japanese Constitution's ban on "cruel" punishment, Japan has not reconsidered a form of execution first adopted by the Meiji-era Grand Council of State in 1873. Mitsui said he was untroubled. "They die instantly," he assured me. "There is no agony."

Indeed, Japan adopted hanging during the Meiji Restoration as a reformist alternative to decapitation. A new debate over hanging does not seem to be in the interest of either the Japanese government or the country's small anti-death penalty movement. The former does not wish to hash out any aspect of the death penalty in public; the latter does not want to appear to accept the death penalty's legitimacy by arguing over how it is carried out.

As Mitsui describes it, the hanging of Nishio seemed to happen all by itself. The man stood on the trap door; the trap door opened; he went down. This was by design. Ordinary prison guards operate the gallows. They may not refuse the job, even if they have a conscientious objection. Officials understand this system can create stress. "As you can imagine, it's a very emotionally demanding task," says Satoru Ohashi of the Correction Bureau. So, Ohashi said, a solution has been found. Five guards press separate buttons simultaneously. Only one of these is the button that actually opens the trap door. And all of this takes place outside the witnesses' field of vision -- offstage, as it were. There is a hanging, but no identifiable hangman.

For Mitsui, it was a long day at the gallows. After Nishio had been hanged, guards brought in Masamichi Ida, 56. Ida used to work for a car repair shop in Aichi Prefecture, near Nagoya. He took out a life insurance policy on a 20-year-old customer and then, in November 1979, went sailing with the young man and pushed him overboard. He was also convicted of two other murders near Kyoto in 1983. Ida was executed in exactly the same manner as Nishio, Mitsui says -- including that excruciating 30-minute wait.

In the early afternoon, Mitsui returned to his office and wrote up a report to the Ministry of Justice in Tokyo, confirming that the prisoners had been duly executed. His officemates had thoughtfully spread salt on the floor before his return; in Shinto tradition, death is impure, and salt is thought to purify those who have had contact with the dead. But he and his coworkers did not actually discuss what he had seen. His boss gave him the rest of the day off. Returning home, he did not tell his wife about his day, either.

Even now, though, Mitsui muses about the strange beauty of the death chamber, that secret theater of polished floors and tasteful lighting. The condemned man enters blindfolded. "Why do they prepare such a beautiful place, but the prisoner is not able to see?" he wondered in our interview, then answered his own question: "Maybe it is for the benefit of the witnesses -- to make them feel calmer."

Feature

Apocalypse Soon

Robert McNamara is worried. He knows how close we've come. His counsel helped the Kennedy administration avert nuclear catastrophe during the Cuban Missile Crisis. Today, he believes the United States must no longer rely on nuclear weapons as a foreign-policy tool. To do so is immoral, illegal, and dreadfully dangerous.

It is time -- well past time, in my view -- for the United States to cease its Cold War-style reliance on nuclear weapons as a foreign-policy tool. At the risk of appearing simplistic and provocative, I would characterize current U.S. nuclear weapons policy as immoral, illegal, militarily unnecessary, and dreadfully dangerous. The risk of an accidental or inadvertent nuclear launch is unacceptably high. Far from reducing these risks, the Bush administration has signaled that it is committed to keeping the U.S. nuclear arsenal as a mainstay of its military power -- a commitment that is simultaneously eroding the international norms that have limited the spread of nuclear weapons and fissile materials for 50 years. Much of the current U.S. nuclear policy has been in place since before I was secretary of defense, and it has only grown more dangerous and diplomatically destructive in the intervening years.

Today, the United States has deployed approximately 4,500 strategic, offensive nuclear warheads. Russia has roughly 3,800. The strategic forces of Britain, France, and China are considerably smaller, with 200-400 nuclear weapons in each state's arsenal. The new nuclear states of Pakistan and India have fewer than 100 weapons each. North Korea now claims to have developed nuclear weapons, and U.S. intelligence agencies estimate that Pyongyang has enough fissile material for 2-8 bombs.

How destructive are these weapons? The average U.S. warhead has a destructive power 20 times that of the Hiroshima bomb. Of the 8,000 active or operational U.S. warheads, 2,000 are on hair-trigger alert, ready to be launched on 15 minutes' warning. How are these weapons to be used? The United States has never endorsed the policy of "no first use," not during my seven years as secretary or since. We have been and remain prepared to initiate the use of nuclear weapons -- by the decision of one person, the president -- against either a nuclear or nonnuclear enemy whenever we believe it is in our interest to do so. For decades, U.S. nuclear forces have been sufficiently strong to absorb a first strike and then inflict "unacceptable" damage on an opponent. This has been and (so long as we face a nuclear-armed, potential adversary) must continue to be the foundation of our nuclear deterrent.

In my time as secretary of defense, the commander of the U.S. Strategic Air Command (SAC) carried with him a secure telephone, no matter where he went, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, 365 days a year. The telephone of the commander, whose headquarters were in Omaha, Nebraska, was linked to the underground command post of the North American Defense Command, deep inside Cheyenne Mountain, in Colorado, and to the U.S. president, wherever he happened to be. The president always had at hand nuclear release codes in the so-called football, a briefcase carried for the president at all times by a U.S. military officer.

The SAC commander's orders were to answer the telephone by no later than the end of the third ring. If it rang, and he was informed that a nuclear attack of enemy ballistic missiles appeared to be under way, he was allowed 2 to 3 minutes to decide whether the warning was valid (over the years, the United States has received many false warnings), and if so, how the United States should respond. He was then given approximately 10 minutes to determine what to recommend, to locate and advise the president, permit the president to discuss the situation with two or three close advisors (presumably the secretary of defense and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff), and to receive the president's decision and pass it immediately, along with the codes, to the launch sites. The president essentially had two options: He could decide to ride out the attack and defer until later any decision to launch a retaliatory strike. Or, he could order an immediate retaliatory strike, from a menu of options, thereby launching U.S. weapons that were targeted on the opponent's military-industrial assets. Our opponents in Moscow presumably had and have similar arrangements.

The whole situation seems so bizarre as to be beyond belief. On any given day, as we go about our business, the president is prepared to make a decision within 20 minutes that could launch one of the most devastating weapons in the world. To declare war requires an act of congress, but to launch a nuclear holocaust requires 20 minutes' deliberation by the president and his advisors. But that is what we have lived with for 40 years. With very few changes, this system remains largely intact, including the "football," the president's constant companion.

I was able to change some of these dangerous policies and procedures. My colleagues and I started arms control talks; we installed safeguards to reduce the risk of unauthorized launches; we added options to the nuclear war plans so that the president did not have to choose between an all-or-nothing response, and we eliminated the vulnerable and provocative nuclear missiles in Turkey. I wish I had done more, but we were in the midst of the Cold War, and our options were limited.

The United States and our NATO allies faced a strong Soviet and Warsaw Pact conventional threat. Many of the allies (and some in Washington as well) felt strongly that preserving the U.S. option of launching a first strike was necessary for the sake of keeping the Soviets at bay. What is shocking is that today, more than a decade after the end of the Cold War, the basic U.S. nuclear policy is unchanged. It has not adapted to the collapse of the Soviet Union. Plans and procedures have not been revised to make the United States or other countries less likely to push the button. At a minimum, we should remove all strategic nuclear weapons from "hair-trigger" alert, as others have recommended, including Gen. George Lee Butler, the last commander of SAC. That simple change would greatly reduce the risk of an accidental nuclear launch. It would also signal to other states that the United States is taking steps to end its reliance on nuclear weapons.

We pledged to work in good faith toward the eventual elimination of nuclear arsenals when we negotiated the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty (NPT) in 1968. In May, diplomats from more than 180 nations are meeting in New York City to review the NPT and assess whether members are living up to the agreement. The United States is focused, for understandable reasons, on persuading North Korea to rejoin the treaty and on negotiating deeper constraints on Iran's nuclear ambitions. Those states must be convinced to keep the promises they made when they originally signed the NPT -- that they would not build nuclear weapons in return for access to peaceful uses of nuclear energy. But the attention of many nations, including some potential new nuclear weapons states, is also on the United States. Keeping such large numbers of weapons, and maintaining them on hair-trigger alert, are potent signs that the United States is not seriously working toward the elimination of its arsenal and raises troubling questions as to why any other state should restrain its nuclear ambitions.

A Preview of the Apocalypse
The destructive power of nuclear weapons is well known, but given the United States' continued reliance on them, it's worth remembering the danger they present. A 2000 report by the International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War describes the likely effects of a single 1 megaton weapon -- dozens of which are contained in the Russian and U.S. inventories. At ground zero, the explosion creates a crater 300 feet deep and 1,200 feet in diameter. Within one second, the atmosphere itself ignites into a fireball more than a half-mile in diameter. The surface of the fireball radiates nearly three times the light and heat of a comparable area of the surface of the sun, extinguishing in seconds all life below and radiating outward at the speed of light, causing instantaneous severe burns to people within one to three miles. A blast wave of compressed air reaches a distance of three miles in about 12 seconds, flattening factories and commercial buildings. Debris carried by winds of 250 mph inflicts lethal injuries throughout the area. At least 50 percent of people in the area die immediately, prior to any injuries from radiation or the developing firestorm.

Of course, our knowledge of these effects is not entirely hypothetical. Nuclear weapons, with roughly one seventieth of the power of the 1 megaton bomb just described, were twice used by the United States in August 1945. One atomic bomb was dropped on Hiroshima. Around 80,000 people died immediately; approximately 200,000 died eventually. Later, a similar size bomb was dropped on Nagasaki. On Nov. 7, 1995, the mayor of Nagasaki recalled his memory of the attack in testimony to the International Court of Justice:

Nagasaki became a city of death where not even the sound of insects could be heard. After a while, countless men, women and children began to gather for a drink of water at the banks of nearby Urakami River, their hair and clothing scorched and their burnt skin hanging off in sheets like rags. Begging for help they died one after another in the water or in heaps on the banks.… Four months after the atomic bombing, 74,000 people were dead, and 75,000 had suffered injuries, that is, two-thirds of the city population had fallen victim to this calamity that came upon Nagasaki like a preview of the Apocalypse.

Why did so many civilians have to die? Because the civilians, who made up nearly 100 percent of the victims of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, were unfortunately "co-located" with Japanese military and industrial targets. Their annihilation, though not the objective of those dropping the bombs, was an inevitable result of the choice of those targets. It is worth noting that during the Cold War, the United States reportedly had dozens of nuclear warheads targeted on Moscow alone, because it contained so many military targets and so much "industrial capacity."

Presumably, the Soviets similarly targeted many U.S. cities. The statement that our nuclear weapons do not target populations per se was and remains totally misleading in the sense that the so-called collateral damage of large nuclear strikes would include tens of millions of innocent civilian dead.

This in a nutshell is what nuclear weapons do: They indiscriminately blast, burn, and irradiate with a speed and finality that are almost incomprehensible. This is exactly what countries like the United States and Russia, with nuclear weapons on hair-trigger alert, continue to threaten every minute of every day in this new 21st century.

No Way To Win
I have worked on issues relating to U.S. and NATO nuclear strategy and war plans for more than 40 years. During that time, I have never seen a piece of paper that outlined a plan for the United States or NATO to initiate the use of nuclear weapons with any benefit for the United States or NATO. I have made this statement in front of audiences, including NATO defense ministers and senior military leaders, many times. No one has ever refuted it. To launch weapons against a nuclear-equipped opponent would be suicidal. To do so against a nonnuclear enemy would be militarily unnecessary, morally repugnant, and politically indefensible.

I reached these conclusions very soon after becoming secretary of defense. Although I believe Presidents John F. Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson shared my view, it was impossible for any of us to make such statements publicly because they were totally contrary to established NATO policy. After leaving the Defense Department, I became president of the World Bank. During my 13-year tenure, from 1968 to 1981, I was prohibited, as an employee of an international institution, from commenting publicly on issues of U.S. national security. After my retirement from the bank, I began to reflect on how I, with seven years' experience as secretary of defense, might contribute to an understanding of the issues with which I began my public service career.

At that time, much was being said and written regarding how the United States could, and why it should, be able to fight and win a nuclear war with the Soviets. This view implied, of course, that nuclear weapons did have military utility; that they could be used in battle with ultimate gain to whoever had the largest force or used them with the greatest acumen. Having studied these views, I decided to go public with some information that I knew would be controversial, but that I felt was needed to inject reality into these increasingly unreal discussions about the military utility of nuclear weapons. In articles and speeches, I criticized the fundamentally flawed assumption that nuclear weapons could be used in some limited way. There is no way to effectively contain a nuclear strike -- to keep it from inflicting enormous destruction on civilian life and property, and there is no guarantee against unlimited escalation once the first nuclear strike occurs. We cannot avoid the serious and unacceptable risk of nuclear war until we recognize these facts and base our military plans and policies upon this recognition. I hold these views even more strongly today than I did when I first spoke out against the nuclear dangers our policies were creating. I know from direct experience that U.S. nuclear policy today creates unacceptable risks to other nations and to our own.

What Castro Taught Us
Among the costs of maintaining nuclear weapons is the risk -- to me an unacceptable risk -- of use of the weapons either by accident or as a result of misjudgment or miscalculation in times of crisis. The Cuban Missile Crisis demonstrated that the United States and the Soviet Union -- and indeed the rest of the world -- came within a hair's breadth of nuclear disaster in October 1962.

Indeed, according to former Soviet military leaders, at the height of the crisis, Soviet forces in Cuba possessed 162 nuclear warheads, including at least 90 tactical warheads. At about the same time, Cuban President Fidel Castro asked the Soviet ambassador to Cuba to send a cable to Soviet Premier Nikita Khrushchev stating that Castro urged him to counter a U.S. attack with a nuclear response. Clearly, there was a high risk that in the face of a U.S. attack, which many in the U.S. government were prepared to recommend to President Kennedy, the Soviet forces in Cuba would have decided to use their nuclear weapons rather than lose them. Only a few years ago did we learn that the four Soviet submarines trailing the U.S. Naval vessels near Cuba each carried torpedoes with nuclear warheads. Each of the sub commanders had the authority to launch his torpedoes. The situation was even more frightening because, as the lead commander recounted to me, the subs were out of communication with their Soviet bases, and they continued their patrols for four days after Khrushchev announced the withdrawal of the missiles from Cuba.

The lesson, if it had not been clear before, was made so at a conference on the crisis held in Havana in 1992, when we first began to learn from former Soviet officials about their preparations for nuclear war in the event of a U.S. invasion. Near the end of that meeting, I asked Castro whether he would have recommended that Khrushchev use the weapons in the face of a U.S. invasion, and if so, how he thought the United States would respond. "We started from the assumption that if there was an invasion of Cuba, nuclear war would erupt," Castro replied. "We were certain of that…. [W]e would be forced to pay the price that we would disappear." He continued, "Would I have been ready to use nuclear weapons? Yes, I would have agreed to the use of nuclear weapons." And he added, "If Mr. McNamara or Mr. Kennedy had been in our place, and had their country been invaded, or their country was going to be occupied … I believe they would have used tactical nuclear weapons."

I hope that President Kennedy and I would not have behaved as Castro suggested we would have. His decision would have destroyed his country. Had we responded in a similar way the damage to the United States would have been unthinkable. But human beings are fallible. In conventional war, mistakes cost lives, sometimes thousands of lives. However, if mistakes were to affect decisions relating to the use of nuclear forces, there would be no learning curve. They would result in the destruction of nations. The indefinite combination of human fallibility and nuclear weapons carries a very high risk of nuclear catastrophe. There is no way to reduce the risk to acceptable levels, other than to first eliminate the hair-trigger alert policy and later to eliminate or nearly eliminate nuclear weapons. The United States should move immediately to institute these actions, in cooperation with Russia. That is the lesson of the Cuban Missile Crisis.

A Dangerous Obsession On Nov. 13, 2001, President George W. Bush announced that he had told Russian President Vladimir Putin that the United States would reduce "operationally deployed nuclear warheads" from approximately 5,300 to a level between 1,700 and 2,200 over the next decade. This scaling back would approach the 1,500 to 2,200 range that Putin had proposed for Russia. However, the Bush administration's Nuclear Posture Review, mandated by the U.S. Congress and issued in January 2002, presents quite a different story. It assumes that strategic offensive nuclear weapons in much larger numbers than 1,700 to 2,200 will be part of U.S. military forces for the next several decades. Although the number of deployed warheads will be reduced to 3,800 in 2007 and to between 1,700 and 2,200 by 2012, the warheads and many of the launch vehicles taken off deployment will be maintained in a "responsive" reserve from which they could be moved back to the operationally deployed force. The Nuclear Posture Review received little attention from the media. But its emphasis on strategic offensive nuclear weapons deserves vigorous public scrutiny. Although any proposed reduction is welcome, it is doubtful that survivors -- if there were any -- of an exchange of 3,200 warheads (the U.S. and Russian numbers projected for 2012), with a destructive power approximately 65,000 times that of the Hiroshima bomb, could detect a difference between the effects of such an exchange and one that would result from the launch of the current U.S. and Russian forces totaling about 12,000 warheads.

In addition to projecting the deployment of large numbers of strategic nuclear weapons far into the future, the Bush administration is planning an extensive and expensive series of programs to sustain and modernize the existing nuclear force and to begin studies for new launch vehicles, as well as new warheads for all of the launch platforms. Some members of the administration have called for new nuclear weapons that could be used as bunker busters against underground shelters (such as the shelters Saddam Hussein used in Baghdad). New production facilities for fissile materials would need to be built to support the expanded force. The plans provide for integrating a national ballistic missile defense into the new triad of offensive weapons to enhance the nation's ability to use its "power projection forces" by improving our ability to counterattack an enemy. The Bush administration also announced that it has no intention to ask congress to ratify the Comprehensive Test Ban Treaty (CTBT), and, though no decision to test has been made, the administration has ordered the national laboratories to begin research on new nuclear weapons designs and to prepare the underground test sites in Nevada for nuclear tests if necessary in the future. Clearly, the Bush administration assumes that nuclear weapons will be part of U.S. military forces for at least the next several decades.

Good faith participation in international negotiation on nuclear disarmament -- including participation in the CTBT -- is a legal and political obligation of all parties to the NPT that entered into force in 1970 and was extended indefinitely in 1995. The Bush administration's nuclear program, alongside its refusal to ratify the CTBT, will be viewed, with reason, by many nations as equivalent to a U.S. break from the treaty. It says to the nonnuclear weapons nations, "We, with the strongest conventional military force in the world, require nuclear weapons in perpetuity, but you, facing potentially well-armed opponents, are never to be allowed even one nuclear weapon."

If the United States continues its current nuclear stance, over time, substantial proliferation of nuclear weapons will almost surely follow. Some, or all, of such nations as Egypt, Japan, Saudi Arabia, Syria, and Taiwan will very likely initiate nuclear weapons programs, increasing both the risk of use of the weapons and the diversion of weapons and fissile materials into the hands of rogue states or terrorists. Diplomats and intelligence agencies believe Osama bin Laden has made several attempts to acquire nuclear weapons or fissile materials. It has been widely reported that Sultan Bashiruddin Mahmood, former director of Pakistan's nuclear reactor complex, met with bin Laden several times. Were al Qaeda to acquire fissile materials, especially enriched uranium, its ability to produce nuclear weapons would be great. The knowledge of how to construct a simple gun-type nuclear device, like the one we dropped on Hiroshima, is now widespread. Experts have little doubt that terrorists could construct such a primitive device if they acquired the requisite enriched uranium material. Indeed, just last summer, at a meeting of the National Academy of Sciences, former Secretary of Defense William J. Perry said, "I have never been more fearful of a nuclear detonation than now.… There is a greater than 50 percent probability of a nuclear strike on U.S. targets within a decade." I share his fears.

A Moment of Decision We are at a critical moment in human history -- perhaps not as dramatic as that of the Cuban Missile Crisis, but a moment no less crucial. Neither the Bush administration, the congress, the American people, nor the people of other nations have debated the merits of alternative, long-range nuclear weapons policies for their countries or the world. They have not examined the military utility of the weapons; the risk of inadvertent or accidental use; the moral and legal considerations relating to the use or threat of use of the weapons; or the impact of current policies on proliferation. Such debates are long overdue. If they are held, I believe they will conclude, as have I and an increasing number of senior military leaders, politicians, and civilian security experts: We must move promptly toward the elimination -- or near elimination -- of all nuclear weapons. For many, there is a strong temptation to cling to the strategies of the past 40 years. But to do so would be a serious mistake leading to unacceptable risks for all nations.