Nuclear Deterrence Strategy: Flawed Logic, Perverse Incentives, and a Perceptual Dilemma

For the first time since the end of the Cold War, people have begun to take the nuclear threat seriously; sales for the construction of personal fallout shelters have more than doubled since the onset of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, google searches for “nuclear war” spiked during March of this year, and the idea that great-power war is on the horizon is not as far fetched as it once might have seemed.

This sudden—and completely justified—increase in nuclear talk got me thinking about how nuclear deterrence strategy works, and what rationale exists for upholding the current nuclear status quo. After extensively researching this issue, I discovered that nuclear deterrence is just as much a military strategy as it is one deeply rooted within human psychology. This is why any movement to deviate from the current nuclear status-quo will require a massive effort; as nuclear strategy fundamentally challenges our intuition, deals with questions of rationality, and exposes our biased way of perceiving the enemy. If Russia’s war on Ukraine has awakened the thoughts of altering this strategy in order to minimize the chances of nuclear war, it is important to understand the underlying architecture of the current strategy.

Why Countries Want Nuclear Weapons

Nuclear strategy—that is, the way in which countries operate, maintain, display, and threaten to use nuclear weapons—is centered all around incentives. A country will choose to acquire a nuclear weapon if the incentives for having them outweigh the costs associated with obtaining them. These costs are relatively high; Iran for example, which has been on a quest to enrich weapons-grade Uranium for decades, has been penalized for this with crippling economic sanctions and near-total diplomatic isolation. Yet, for many countries, the benefits of becoming a nuclear-capable state outweigh any of the downsides associated with attaining this goal. In North Korea for example, Kim Jong-un believes the threat to his rule to be so acute that the only way to dissuade his adversaries from toppling him is by obtaining, and threatening to use, nuclear weapons. This belief is entrenched in the common-held idea that a nuclear weapon is the ultimate security assurance. 

To prove this point, look no further than to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. Putin was well aware that his invasion would increase the chances of a direct confrontation with NATO, which poses the risk of spiraling into an all-out nuclear war, yet he correctly calculated that NATO’s response would be measured as to not further increase the likelihood of this event. Of course NATO must punish Putin’s actions by arming Ukraine and sanctioning Russia, but they also must show restraint in order to limit the chances of war with a nuclear-armed state. This is how nuclear deterrence works; NATO countries will continue sending weapons to support Ukraine’s war efforts, but they will stop short of implementing a no fly zone, sending their own troops into direct conflict with Russia, or providing Ukraine with weapons capable of decimating Russian cities. 

The logic within these policies is that by showing restraint, NATO is not crossing Russia’s perceived “red line,” and therefore Putin is not incentivized to use nuclear weapons. In Russia’s case, nuclear weapons gives Putin security as NATO will not intervene directly, and also gives him an upper hand in negotiations with Ukraine, as he can always threaten the use of these weapons in order to attain further concessions.

The Red Line Dilemma

The implementation of a red line (in relation to the use of nuclear weapons) only works if enough countries believe that crossing this line will actually result in the deployment of nuclear weapons. In order for a country’s red line to be believed, it must be placed at a reasonable point backed by logic and incentives. China and India, for example, have a no first use policy which means they will only deploy nuclear weapons in retaliation if an adversarial country strikes first. These countries have made it clear where their red line is placed, and it seems to be reasonable enough, yet for countries such as the US and Russia, where exactly this red line stands is much more ambiguous. This is partially by design, as being able to threaten the use of nuclear weapons has its share of advantages. Even so, if a country’s red line is too ambiguous—and it is constantly moved—then a nuclear weapons’ greatest advantage: deterrence, will lose its value.

If we think about where a red line should be drawn when it comes to the deployment of nuclear weapons, then it logically follows that this line must be drawn at the point where it is truly in the country’s best-interest to do so. It is near-impossible to imagine a scenario in which nuclear war is preferable to any alternative, but for the purposes of this article, let us assume that such a scenario can be justified if a major power is invading a nuclear-capable country’s territory.

So, now that it has been determined where our red line is, we now should announce it to the world so that they know at what point we will bring about the nuclear apocalypse right? The common consensus amongst those in charge of our nuclear policy is that this is wrong. If the attainment of nuclear weapons functions as a 100% deterrent for another country crossing your red line, then it is in your best interest to say that your red line is just a teeny tiny bit lower than it really is. This gets tricky, as there is now a difference between a country’s internal red line (at which point a country will actually use nuclear weapons) and the perceived red line (which a country will establish in order to discourage being taken advantage of but will not actually follow through with enforcing). 

For example, Russia’s internal red line is most likely something along the lines of, “the moment at which an enemy country begins carpet-bombing major Russian cities,” yet throughout the war in Ukraine, Russia has attempted to lower this threshold countless times in order to minimize the damage that it inflicts. This is because Russia wants to create the perception that it is willing to use these weapons, as Western countries must factor this threat into their decision making as they calculate how they can aid Ukraine. Western countries have by and large bought into Russia’s ruse as they fear that Putin’s nuclear threats hold some truth to them.

If viewed from this viewpoint, one would believe that a nuclear-capable country should move their perceived red line as low as possible, or in other words, state that they will use nuclear weapons for minor offenses in order to discourage them from occurring in the first place. But, what happens when this perceived red line is not believed to be real, and instead your adversaries believe that you are punching above your weight? If an adversary is crazy enough (or calculative enough) to cross this line, your country is now stuck in an incredibly awkward position. You are now forced to admit defeat and prove to the world that your perceived red line is not the same as your internal red line. This realization greatly increases the chances of further military confrontation which was deemed impossible before; as your enemies now see that you are unwilling to follow through with your nuclear threats.

This leads into the dynamic of the boy who cried wolf. If a country continues to explain that their red line is lower than it really is, and it continues being crossed without repercussions, then when their line is actually crossed it will have been entirely by mistake. No country actually wishes to cross another's internal red line as it would culminate into nuclear war, but if an adversary is now skeptical of where this line lies, they might keep pushing forward until they inadvertently cross it. 

The Red Line Dilemma is fascinating as its whole mechanism is deceptive by design. The deterrence effect of nuclear weapons rests on the universal belief that a country will follow through with enforcing its red line, yet there are cases where it does not make sense for a country to launch nuclear weapons even if their line is crossed (as this is their perceived red line and not their internal red line). Yet, even though we know this is the case, we continue giving credence to a country’s perceived red line out of fear and mistrust.

The Perceptual Dilemma

A common theme throughout the architecture of nuclear deterrence is the human inability to trust that our adversaries are as rational as we are, even though they have given every indication that this is the case. Nuclear disarmament—or the mechanism by which two adversaries simultaneously reduce the number of nuclear weapons they have—is the perfect example of this dilemma. The number of nuclear warheads held by the USSR and the US during the Cold War peaked around the late 1980’s after which both countries signed the Strategic Arms Reduction Treaty (1991) in which both countries promised to reduce their nuclear arsenals. This treaty was largely successful, as it reduced the number of active nuclear warheads from a peak of 65,000 to less than 10,000 today. Yet, any future treaty which attempts to diminish this number even further faces an uphill battle.

This can best be explained by the Perceptual Dilemma, which states that the optimal goal of two parties cannot be achieved as it rests solely on the perception that the adversary is as rational as you are, and it is in our nature to believe that we are superior to our adversaries. In 1993, a study was conducted with the goal of comparing the way in which the US and the USSR viewed nuclear disarmament, and how they perceived each other’s most optimal scenarios. Within the study, researchers asked 32 sitting US senators to rank what their preferences were regarding nuclear disarmament between the US and the USSR. The choices were: both the US and the USSR disarm multilaterally, both the US and the USSR continue the arms rate indefinitely, or either country decides to disarm while the other continues to arm itself. Apart from surveying US senators, researchers looked at historical accounts, speeches, and internal Soviet documents to analyze the way in which USSR leaders would have answered these same questions. The results paint an obvious yet overlooked picture; the most optimal and desired scenario for both parties is to proceed with nuclear disarmament. So, if the most optimal scenario for everyone is for both countries to disarm, why doesn’t it happen?

The answer lies within the human way in which we approach issues. We all strive to be as logical, rational, and consistent as we can, as for a majority of issues doing so will yield the most desired outcome for us. Yet, we have confused the word logic with the word intuition, and in terms of nuclear disarmament, these are contradictory. Although lawmakers and those in charge of nuclear policy all hope for a nuclear-free world, their intuitive thinking leads them to believe that their adversaries (in the case of this example the USSR) rather arm themselves while the US disarms in order to gain a superior advantage.

When the idea of mutual nuclear disarmament was first proposed, Soviet elites and politicians found “it difficult to interpret proposed massive new arms expenditures in the United States as other than attempts to, first, gain military superiority and, second, drive the Soviet economy to bankruptcy.” This statement can further explain why we intuitively balk at the idea of mutual nuclear disarmament: there is a deep distrust of choosing an action which benefits both parties equally. Due to this distrust, what happens next is that both countries continue with the status quo—or continue building up their arsenals—because of their own deceptive belief that the other country would rather keep building up their stockpile than to multilaterally disarm. And who can blame them? The fear that one country begins to disarm while the other arms seems like an inherent and intuitively-sound scenario, but as much as one would like to call it a logical one, it isn't one. The word Logic stems from the Greek word λόγος, or logos, which refers to a, “universal divine reason, immanent in nature… an eternal and unchanging truth present from the time of creation.” 

In essence, to be logical means to arrive at the most optimal scenario; at the most correct solution. Yet because of the intuitive belief that our adversaries are not to be trusted, our ability to resolve this issue by following logical thought remains a distant future. 

The Perverse Incentives Behind Superiority

The mistrust exhibited through the Perceptual Dilemma, at its root, is derived from a country’s quest to achieve military superiority. In the case of nuclear weapons, countries operate on a triad in order to attain this goal: nuclear weapons can be launched from submarines, bomber aircraft, or from long-range missile systems. In order to have nuclear superiority then, a country should position their submarines as close to the adversary as possible, increase their number of bomber aircraft, and enhance their ballistic missile systems. These are all examples of perverse incentives—when an action has the opposite effect of what it was designed to accomplish. For example, while one might believe that having more nuclear weapons is beneficial as it deters further conflict, more nuclear weapons also means a higher chance for accidents.

The world came ever so close to nuclear war in 1962, after a Russian submarine captain ordered the launch of two B-59 torpedoes (which were carrying 15-kiloton nuclear warheads) after losing communication with Moscow and believing that war with the United States had already begun. Thankfully, the captain was talked down and nuclear war was avoided. Yet, this is one of many examples in which nuclear war or catastrophe was a real possibility, all because of human or computer error. As the number of nukes increases, so does the possibility of error. 

Diversifying both the way in which we deploy nuclear weapons—via intercontinental missiles, missiles stationed in Europe, or through submarines—and the proximity of these systems to their desired targets sounds like it would be a good strategy, but it instead increases the risk of accidental war. In the case of a nuclear attack, the President only has about 5-8 minutes to make a decision on whether to launch a retaliatory strike. This short window will become even shorter as we station nuclear weapons closer to our adversaries, and for such an important decision, our leaders should have enough time to weigh their options. The same rationale is true for the speed at which nuclear weapons can be delivered from launch point A to target B. The faster we make our missiles, the less time those in charge have to make a decision on how to respond.

The best system which exemplifies the perverse incentives behind our ambition to build faster, more precise, and more robust military technologies is our quest to create nuclear missile defenses (NMD’s). One would think that—in a world where nuclear weapons exist—the best way to counter their threat would be by creating missiles capable of intercepting nuclear warheads. The reality is that both pursuing and attaining this capacity works to make the possibility of nuclear war higher. Let's imagine that the United States military began testing such systems. Once our adversaries (China, Russia, etc.) realize that we are exploring the capability to create NMD systems, it is in their best interest to either enhance their nuclear capabilities (as to render the NMD’s obsolete) or also deploy NMD systems. This is because nuclear deterrence rests on the idea of mutually assured destruction (MAD) and defense systems which might be able to stop a nuclear attack completely nullifies the precedent of MAD. If one country has—or is even perceived to have—a nuclear advantage, then this whole framework goes out the window. 

Decades ago, the leaders of the US and USSR signed a treaty asserting that both nations would cease their attempts to develop NMD systems; both because of how ineffective they are and because it would increase the chances of confrontation. 20 years ago, the US left that treaty. But even if they had not, the truth is that all nuclear-capable nations have continued exploring the possibility of nuclear missile defense systems in order to gain a superior hand if a war were to ever begin. 

The idea that developing superior weapons systems leads to an increase in safety is provably false, especially when you take into consideration that every nuclear-capable country is attempting to develop these sorts of systems. What is even more tragic is that every one of these countries believe themselves to be able to achieve these capabilities before any other, as the only way to gain a superior hand in a nuclear war is by being the first and only country to develop such systems.

The world has avoided nuclear catastrophe not because of a rigid system fundamentally based on logically-sound and thought-out rules; but through a combination of nonsensical human rationale that all world leaders—at least for now—happen to share, and through sheer luck. The topic of nuclear deterrence is too important as to not implement the most optimal scenario, as difficult as doing so might be. What will happen when a rogue nuclear-armed country believes that their incentives for using such a weapon have switched, and they imagine that using one is in their best interest? What happens when a country inadvertently crosses the “internal red line” and their adversary is forced to take action? Is mutually-assured destruction a real strategic belief, or simply an irrational policy that in practice will never come to fruition? What will the world become once nuclear saber-rattling escalates to a point where using nuclear weapons is a legitimate strategic option?

As the war over Ukraine rages on, threatening to draw NATO into a direct confrontation with Russia, it now is as important a time as ever to examine nuclear deterrence strategy under a microscope, and to seriously re-consider the way in which it is structured. Nuclear deterrence strategy as it stands today, which many believe has been built upon a foundation of reinforced cement, is in reality a house of cards; built upon the illusion of our own superiority, the irrationality of our actions, and the mistrust that is so deeply ingrained within our human psyche.