A Manhattan Project historian comments on ‘Oppenheimer’
Although Nolan’s film is not technically accurate throughout, the adjustments in 'Oppenheimer' are made for understandable artistic reasons, writes an historian of the Manhattan Project.
Edward Teller (as portrayed by film director and actor Benny Safdie) looks at the Trinity explosion his face protected by dark sunglasses and sunscreen in a scene from Christopher Nolan's film 'Oppenheimer' (Image courtesy of Universal Pictures)
The film Oppenheimer struck me as a masterful and creative portrayal of many topics: Oppenheimer the man and his moral qualms and broader interests, the scientific quest for the atomic bomb, McCarthyism, the revolutionary physics of the 20th century, and the world-ending destructive power of the bomb. It weaves these themes together to produce a captivating film. There were powerful moments. The atomic explosion at the Trinity site—the climax of the movie up to that scene—was delivered with acting and cinematography that met the immensity of the event (with a slight smile on Edward Teller’s face at the sight). The movie described the concerns about whether an atomic bomb could possibly ignite the atmosphere and destroy the world. Calculations proved otherwise. At the end of the film Oppenheimer tells Einstein: “When I came to you with those calculations, we thought we might start a chain reaction that might destroy the entire world.” “What of it?” Einstein asks. Oppenheimer replies “I believe we did,” and the movie ends with dramatic visuals of the world on fire. On paper this sounds dull, but in the hands of the film director, this scene was compelling and stayed with me.
But will this substantial work of art make a difference to the future of nuclear weapons policy? I expect it won’t. It is great filmmaking. And everyone should see it for that and for the topic it portrays. It is doing a public service: There are now conversations about nuclear weapons all over the nation and beyond. But, I am afraid, in a few weeks it will all disappear from the public space.
How can a movie on such a momentous issue have a lasting impact? Perhaps one that came close might be The Day After, the 1983 fictional account of the consequences of a Soviet nuclear attack on Lawrence, Kansas, near a field of US intercontinental ballistic missile silos. That film captures the horrors and the impact on a particular family. It was followed by a substantive panel discussion about the issue of nuclear weapons, which was moderated by broadcast journalist Ted Koppel and included Henry Kissinger, Robert McNamara, George Shultz, and Carl Sagan. It also included Elie Wiesel, the notable holocaust survivor and writer. Wiesel was clearly moved by the film: “I am scared,” he told the panel. Affected by the hellscape of the aftermath of the attack, he noted that “what is imaginable, can happen.” While watching the film, he added, “I had a strange feeling, that I have seen it before … It happened to my people. Now it happens to all people … maybe the whole world, strangely, has turned Jewish.” The Day After and the words of Wiesel have stayed with me for 40 years now. The film seemingly even influenced President Reagan and altered his view on nuclear weapons.
By contrast, this week I listened to a podcast discussion of Nolan’s Oppenheimer by four New York Times journalists. It was a lively discussion of Oppenheimer the man, the political era of the 1940s, and the dangers of artificial intelligence. But little time was devoted to the central issue of the threat posed by nuclear weapons. The world-ending potential of these weapons was essentially taken for granted and accepted by the discussants. Almost an old-fashioned threat.
Oppenheimer is a great contribution to the discussion. But to slay the nuclear dragon to which the public is wedded, one needs the explosive equivalent of 1,000 Oppenheimers—year in, year out. This is possible, if there are will and resources.
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If you are a nuclear scientist or Cold War aficionado and/or an espionage cognoscente and interested in Oppenheimer you may have heard of Operation Smiling Buddha. It was the Indian equivalent of the Manhattan Project and came to fruition in 1974. Courtesy of work undertaken in 1974 by Bill Fairclough (codename JJ), an agent for MI6 at the time, he unintentionally stumbled across the Indian operation while working at Coopers & Lybrand, now PwC. Fairclough was one of Pemberton's People in MI6 (see the brief news article dated 31 October 2022 in the news section of TheBurlingtonFiles website).
For details of Operation Smiling Buddha simply Google it. For more about MI6’s involvement best read Beyond Enkription in The Burlington Files series of fact based books about Bill Fairclough's life. For a synopsis + reviews please also visit TheBurlingtonFiles website. It is like a living espionage museum and breathtaking in its own right.
If you are longing for more spy fiction bursting at the seams with John le Carré’s delicate diction and sophisticated syntax you may not appreciate Beyond Enkription. However, it’s been described as ”up there with My Silent War by Kim Philby and No Other Choice by George Blake” so if you want to experience unadulterated espionage written by a real secret agent give it a go.
I actually met Edward Teller once (more like randomly crossed paths), back in the mid-90's when he stole my seat on an airplane, but later I kind of became his hero because of that.
How did I end up flying on a C-21 (Learjet), with Dr. Teller and I as the only passengers? Well, I was active duty Navy at the time, an aviator, stationed at HQ NORAD at Peterson AFB in Colorado Springs. I had flown down to San Antonio under the military's "Space-A" travel program, where any servicemember on leave can jump on a transport flight for free, provided there are empty seats. I went down there to attend a Navy buddy's retirement ceremony, where he was stationed. To get there I had to go through Hurlburt Field in the Florida panhandle, where the jet was transporting a one-star USAF general, before heading back to its home base in Texas. Got there no problem, just in a roundabout way.
Afterwards, to get back to the Springs, my only Space-A option was to jump on a flight heading out to San Jose, CA that was picking up a VIP to bring him to Colorado. The Air Force dispatched an empty C-21 (ironically with the same pilots who I had ridden with a few days earlier on the way down) from San Antonio to San Jose, then to Colorado. I couldn't believe the government wouldn't just buy this VIP a first class ticket on a commercial flight, but thought whatever, if it'll get me from point A to point B for free, I'll take it.
So during the leg to San Jose where it's just me and some other guy in the back flying Space-A too, I ask the pilots who we're picking up. And one pilot says "some guy named Dr. Teller". I'm like, "Edward Teller"? And he's like, I don't know. So he had no idea who Dr. Teller was. Me, I had done my undergraduate degree in physics, so I had an idea of who Edward Teller was, but still I had thought that at that time he'd have to be long-dead. But of course, he was very much alive in the 1990's.
We get to the FBO in San Jose, and a car pulls up and a small but really old man gets out, and boards the plane. Just him. I'm thinking the Air Force sent an empty Learjet all the way out to California just to pick up this guy? (I wasn't certain it was the real Edward Teller at the time, all I saw was a little old man). He gets on and immediately goes to the back row, the bulkhead seat that I sat in on the way out. I'm like hey you stole my seat! Didn't actually say that to him, I just grabbed another open seat. After all, it's his flight.
So we're now flying to Colorado Springs (where he is to be a guest speaker at a space symposium or something), and he suddenly motions for me to come back to his seat. He has no idea who I am, I'm just a passenger (the only other one) dressed in civvies so not in uniform. Just a random active duty USN lieutenant on leave. But he's fiddling with the airflow valve above his seat and can't stop the air blowing on top of him, and he's getting cold. I look up and immediately see the problem. The cold air is not coming from the rotary valve, it's coming out of the vent at the top of the bulkhead. I say wait a minute, and walk up to the cockpit and say to the pilots "hey, your boy's getting cold back there, can you turn down the A/C?" Pilot says sure, and turns this little control wheel on the instrument panel, and shuts off the airflow in the back.
I head back to the cabin, and Dr. Teller is smiling and gives me a thumbs-up. I had solved his cold airflow problem (without much effort), and for that, he now thinks I'm his hero or something (it seemed). I remember thinking, is this guy really a nuclear physicist, considering he couldn't figure out the A/C and he's reading an Agatha Christie novel. We land at Peterson AFB, and there's red carpet rolled out for him, with a general there to greet him, and basically that's that. I go home and find an old photo of Edward Teller on the internet, and confirm, yeah that old man was him.