Belfer Center for Science and International Affairs |
Harvard Kennedy School
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The next day, Ilkaev introduced Hecker to a pair
of scientists who were well informed about what
had unfolded at Semipalatinsk. They were Yuri
Styazhkin and Viktor Stepanyuk, both of whom
had worked at the test site in earlier years. Styazh-
kin knew the whole story, but he did not reveal it
all at once. “There are a lot of things we did out
there,” he told Hecker, “and it wasn’t just the hy-
dronuclear experiments.”
This was the second turning point. Thanks to Il-
kaev’s apparent pressure on Moscow overnight—
he had clearly taken a risk—and Styazhkin’s sense
of personal responsibility, Hecker had broken
through Russia’s wall of silence.
‘Who is Ever Going to Go
Out There?’
Hecker next went to the second former Soviet
nuclear weapons laboratory, known as Chely-
abinsk-70 in Soviet times, located in the Ural
Mountains. This laboratory was started nine years
later than Arzamas-16. In the Soviet era, the two
labs competed, working on different warhead
designs. Hecker had also built bridges in the early years to Chelyabinsk-70 and was welcomed
there, as well. He went to see Boris Litvinov, the chief weapons designer for 31 years, who was
one of Hecker’s early contacts in the Soviet nuclear weapons establishment. Hecker showed Lit-
vinov the photographs from Semipalatinsk; both Soviet laboratories had carried out experiments
on the test site.
Hecker recalled that Litvinov:
...explained to me how they did the hydronuclear tests. He said, ‘We didn’t bury it the
way you guys did. We did [tests] out on the surface. We dug a little trench. We put our
experiments in there. And we just blew it up. Then we took bulldozers and bulldozed that
over, and we took care of it. We thought, who is ever going to go out there?’
In the meeting with Litvinov, Hecker learned that the Soviet tests were not only hydronuclear.
The weapons designers had also carried out studies known as “equation-of-state” experiments to
probe the behavior of plutonium. While the hydronuclear explosions probably had blown up the
metal and dispersed it, the other experiments were done in shallow bore holes, and whole pieces
of plutonium, rather than residue, may have been left in the ground, which would be even easier
for someone to recover.
Yet another revelation followed. When Hecker asked Litvinov whether all of the Soviet nuclear
Source: Siegfried Hecker
Trenches dug by scavengers to extract copper cables
from the test site.
Plutonium Mountain: Inside the 17-year mission to secure a dangerous legacy
of Soviet nuclear testing
16
explosions conducted in the tunnels had actually detonated, Litvinov said they had not. This
added a new concern: the plutonium (or highly enriched uranium) that remained in the test tun-
nels from those duds, especially now that it appeared the scavengers were re-entering some of
the previously-sealed test tunnels.
Lastly, Litvinov told Hecker that some of the tests had been carried out in large tank-car sized
metal containers known as “Kolbas.”
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Where were they now? Still in place, at Semipalatinsk.
Some were deep inside the tunnels at Degelen Mountain, others were outside.
These discussions with the scientists convinced Hecker that any hope of dealing with the plutoni-
um at Semipalatinsk would have to involve the Russians. They had the knowledge of what tests
had been carried out and what might have been left behind. “What tunnels actually still contained
stuff that we should be worried about?” Hecker recalled asking. “Without the Russians, we have
no chance whatsoever. It would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”
It would not be easy. Even in 1998, seven years after the Soviet collapse, suspicions from the
Cold War still ran strong. While at Chelyabinsk-70, Hecker went to see Evgeny Avrorin, who
had twice served as scientific director of the laboratory. Although he had extensive contacts with
westerners over the years and had come to Los Alamos to help the lab celebrate its 50
th
anniver-
sary in 1993, Avrorin was still cautious and suspicious. The nuclear weapons laboratories had
been secret kingdoms for so long that the mindset was hard to change.
Hecker showed the photographs from Semipalatinsk to Avrorin, and implored him to support
some effort to deal with the plutonium. Hecker recalled that Avrorin replied, “It sounds like intel-
ligence to me.”
Hecker added,
What he was concerned about is that the work that they did there… the plutonium chemistry,
the plutonium isotopics, are classified secret in Russia. …The type of test that they did,
whether it was in the tunnels, whether it was in the Kolbas—that’s all part of their trade, of
the nuclear weapons trade. They don’t want to give out that information. And Avrorin was
concerned that I was doing this for intelligence collection.
Hecker recalled telling Avrorin that he was not spying but was concerned about the nuclear ma-
terials spread across the steppe, unprotected. Nonetheless, the Chelyabinsk-70 scientists decided
to hold back, to see if Moscow allowed the project to move ahead, and to let Arzamas-16 go first.
They eventually joined the project.
Next, Hecker came back to the United States and briefed high-level officials in the government
about what he had found. He showed them photographs of the unmanned guard gate, of the
trenches, and maps of the various sites at Semipalatinsk where the fissile material might be lo-
cated. He urged them to join Russia and Kazakhstan in an effort to do something about the prolif-
eration risks at Semipalatinsk.
Hecker warned them that the amount of recoverable plutonium was not trivial. He said there
was perhaps as much as 200 kilograms, or about 441 pounds, enough for at least a dozen nu-
clear weapons and maybe more, given the quality of the material. And it was all lying about,
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“Kolba” is a term of art in chemistry to refer to containment chambers.