MOSCOW -- Since the collapse of the Soviet Union nearly a decade ago, the West has been concerned about the fate of Russia's vast stockpile of nuclear weapons, materials and expertise.
Specifically, the West worried that the disintegration of the Russian economy would make that nation's nuclear scientists and experts vulnerable to temptation by rogue states seeking the expertise and material necessary to develop their own nuclear weapons and missiles.
To avert or manage this threat, Western programs were begun to provide financial support and alternative employment for the skilled experts and technicians needed to maintain Russia's nuclear industries and weapons. These efforts have been successful in engaging portions of Russian weapons experts, but the risk of brain drain remains.
While few have actually fled their country or tried to profit by stealing fissionable material, fewer still are being attracted into the field. The net result poses a new danger for Russia: that there will be no one left with the requisite skills needed to maintain the safety and security of its nuclear materials.
A new study shows this to be especially true among those living in what were once known as "secret cities." In these isolated communities, the economic strain has been so severe that it's nearly impossible to attract new scientists and experts to fill the necessary positions.
A new survey of five Russian nuclear cities and three Russian missile enterprises make the reasons clear enough. The results in the nuclear cities show that:
-- More than 62 percent of employees earn less than $50 per month; -- 89 percent of experts report a decline in living conditions since 1992.
Life for those working at missile enterprises is equally glum: -- 67 percent report a slight or severe decline in economic conditions since 1992; -- 25 percent of those surveyed would like to emigrate to another country.
It wasn't always this way.
After World War II, the Soviet Union applied enormous effort to the development of its nuclear and ballistic missile capabilities, which was viewed at the time -- and even today -- as a key component of its political and military status. Tens, if not hundreds, of enterprises were built, making it possible for Moscow to achieve nuclear parity with the United States by the early 1970s, but at the price of significant overtaxing of the nation's resources.
During the 1940s and 1950s, the "closed" nuclear cities were developed far away from major cities and were almost totally isolated from the surrounding areas. It was possible to visit or relocate there only with specially issued passes, and the residents of the cities had to get official permission to leave these sites. The cities were not shown on maps, had no names, and were referred to by the names of the nearest administrative centers plus a postal code; for example: Chelyabinsk-45 or Krasnoyarsk-26. As a practical matter, however, they had nothing in common with these centers and often were located tens or even hundreds of kilometers from them.
As compensation for their remote location, the populations of the closed cities enjoyed significant privileges and advantages. A much better selection of foods and consumer goods was available than around the country as a whole, and at reasonable prices. Workers received higher pay and generally received free housing. This higher standard of living made it possible for the nuclear and missile enterprises to attract highly qualified specialists, including the top graduates from the country's most prestigious universities.
The end of the Cold War and the collapse of the Soviet Union put an end to the relatively comfortable existence of those in the nuclear-missile complex. A sharp reduction in government funding substantially reduced the standard of living in the nuclear and missile cities.
Nuclear experts went months or longer without receiving any pay. Work orders declined, decreasing job satisfaction, and the relative benefits that city residents once enjoyed all but vanished, without any real prospect for finding new jobs in their current locations.
These circumstances create two potential security concerns.
First, they give rise to fears that these highly trained and now disenfranchised workers might be tempted or even compelled to sell whatever is close at hand, or themselves, in order to make ends meet. Despite this potential, there has been only one known attempt at crossing the border by a large group of missile experts from the missile city of Miass in 1992. At the last minute, they were taken from an airplane setting out for Pyongyang, North Korea, from the Moscow's international airport.
The threat of the unauthorized use of nuclear materials attracted most of the attention during the '90s; there were several recorded cases of theft, which led to a significant but arguably underfunded effort to improve the security of and accounting for nuclear materials throughout the former Soviet Union.
Second, Russia's economic and strategic hard times have long-term implications for its ability to keep the human and technical capabilities necessary to maintain a modern nuclear arsenal. Just as the United States is facing potential problems as its nuclear work force ages -- and fewer top experts are interested in entering the field -- Russia is already facing a degradation in the skills of its nuclear experts.
Without the needed investment in facilities, education, and living standards, Russia might face serious problems with the safety and reliability of its nuclear arsenal in the years ahead. Any insecurity in this area has serious implications for Russia's perceived security and for international strategic stability.
The risk that a brain drain could also lead to additional global proliferation sparked early attention from the United States and its international partners. In 1991 and 1992, Western countries moved to engage and employ the elite of the ex-Soviet nuclear, chemical, biological weapon and ballistic missile complex through the International Science and Technology Centers, which were described at this time as technical "dating services" between Western government grants and ex-Soviet experts. The expectation was that the Russian economy would, within a reasonable amount of time, develop to the point where it could provide alternative employment for these experts.
This expectation proved very wrong and, almost a decade later, the Russian economy is still unable to provide the necessary conditions for job creation to adequately employ this vast network of experts. Although the science centers and a variety of other unilateral and multilateral projects have made important progress toward employing ex-Soviet experts, the situation in the cities remains a serious concern and a threat to international peace and security.
Without concerted and prolonged assistance to these locations, the situation is likely to get worse before it gets better. For its own security, it is critical that West understand the changes going on in the Russian military complex and develop effective responses to deal with the serious challenges posed by those developments.
Valentin Tikhonov is a Moscow-based sociologist and author
of Russia's Nuclear and Missile Complex: The Human Factor in Proliferation
for the The Carnegie Non-Proliferation Project and The Carnegie
Endowment for International Peace.