Germs: Biological Weapons and America's Secret War By Judith Miller, Stephen Engelberg, and William Broad. Simon and Schuster, 382 pages, $27.00
A day after the September 11 attack on the United States, a man who had escaped the collapsed World Trade Center declared: "We are all Israelis now." He was, of course, linking the experiences of the hapless victims of religious and political militancy in New York, Washington, and Pennsylvania with those in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, and Haifa. The cruel consequences of suicide bombings in both societies accomplished what terrorism is intended to accomplish: It unnerved the populace. That the explosions also unleashed forces less welcome to the sponsors of the terrorism is also true. The consequent resolve by an angry America might lead to the decimation of the network behind these ungodly acts. Still, as President Bush has counseled, that welcome day will not come quickly. We are all worriers now.
In the days following the transformation of jetliners into weapons of mass destruction, conjecture was rife in America about what terror acts might come next. Government officials and terrorism experts speculated about airline hijackings, bombings, and other possible scenarios. But no threat prompted more dread than the chance of an attack with biological weapons. These weapons were, after all, what Secretary of State Colin Powell years earlier proclaimed to be the most worrisome of all. And in January 1999, President Clinton confessed to two New York Times reporters, Judith Miller and William Broad, that the thought of a biological attack "keeps me awake at night." Not even nuclear or chemical weapons were as frightening as germ warfare, he told the reporters. Nuclear and chemical arms are "finite," he said. But someone infected with a contagious biological agent could continue to infect others--a "gift that keeps giving," as the president put it.
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The authors warn that the United States is "woefully unprepared for a calamity that would be unlike any this country has ever experienced." |
At the time of the Clinton interview, Miller and Broad, with Times editor Stephen Engelberg, had been working as a team for a year and had published more than a dozen articles about biological weapons. By mid-1999, the number of co-authored articles had climbed to 20. Far-ranging in scope, they included stories about the Iraqi and Soviet germ-weapons programs, the United States' biological-defense program, the potential of scientists to produce supergerms, and the increased interest by several countries and terrorists in acquiring germ weapons.
In Germs, Miller, Engelberg, and Broad gather the information reported in their earlier articles, along with much new material. Through interviews and documentary research, the book provides an impressive overview of a range of issues related to germ weapons. Their presentation is largely balanced and hype-free--an approach that makes all the more stark their concluding admonition that the germ threat is real and that the United States is "woefully unprepared for a calamity that would be unlike any this country has ever experienced."
The Times trio reach their conclusion after escorting the reader through a review of two decades of bioweapons events and debates. They begin with a recounting of a 1984 outbreak of salmonella poisoning in an Oregon community. Not until a year later did state and federal officials learn through confessions of a Rajneesh cult member that a few Rajneeshees had emptied vials of the bacteria in several restaurant salad bars and creamers. In consequence, at least 751 patrons were made ill. Although the victims recovered, the experience demonstrated even more frightening possibilities: A scientifically unsophisticated clutch of ill-doers might well be able to develop and release killer agents like anthrax or botulinum toxin.
Further into the book, the authors describe the gradual and painful U.S. enlightenment about illegal Iraqi and Soviet germ-related activities. By the end of the 1980s, Iraqi President Saddam Hussein had secretly developed a formidable germ arsenal and American intelligence had no notion of its extent. On the eve of the 1991 Gulf War, military commanders were frenzied about how to protect their troops from a danger whose dimensions they did not fully understand.
The book describes weeks of anxious discussions about the possibility that Iraq would unleash its presumably limited inventory of anthrax spores and botulinum toxin against coalition forces. U.S. military planners guessed that the Iraqis would target frontline troops with botulinum and would direct anthrax against the rear. The logic arose from the fact that the toxin disables its victims in minutes or hours, whereas the incubation period for anthrax is a day or more. The planners figured that by the time untreated rear-guard troops were moved forward, anthrax infections would have incapacitated them. These presumptions appeared critical in the face of inadequate vaccine supplies. To the chagrin of the commanders, although a half-million American troops would be sent to the Gulf area, there was enough anthrax vaccine only for 150,000 and botulinum vaccine for 10,000. Layered onto the scarcity problem were uncertainties about the safety and effectiveness of the anthrax vaccine. The uncertainties germinated a controversy that may have a longer shelf life than the vaccine itself. Just last year, the Institute of Medicine issued a report that questioned the vaccine's "long-term adverse health consequences." The report prompted an embarrassed Pentagon to suspend its program to vaccinate every member of the military against anthrax.
The most stunning chapter of the book, titled "Secrets and Lies," could as well have been called "Epiphanies." In it we observe a transformation from ignorance and naïveté on the part of scientists and government officials to shock and amazement. When Soviet defectors in the early 1990s told CIA officials that they had helped build a huge Soviet arsenal of germ weapons, few initially believed them. That all changed after a veteran of the American offensive program, which ended in 1969, heard the details.
Bill Patrick, a long-retired biowarrior, was called in to interview Kanatjen Alibekov, who had been a science director in the Soviet program before coming to the United States. Patrick found him utterly believable. Before long the shocking truth became clear to the entire intelligence community. The Soviets had not only violated the 1972 bioweapons ban they helped write, but they had built a production megamonster: Sixty thousand people working at more than 40 sites in Russia and Kazakhstan had amassed hundreds of tons of anthrax, smallpox, and plague microorganisms. In the process, Soviet scientists were trying to genetically engineer ever-more lethal strains and develop germ cocktails that could inflict multiple diseases with one dose. Post-Soviet Russia has allowed American experts to visit former bioweapons sites to verify that the germ stocks were destroyed and bioweapons research ended. Still, the reluctance of a few Russian scientists to acknowledge that there ever was a Soviet bioweapons program continues to unsettle some in the intelligence community. No less troublesome are reports that underemployed ex-weaponeers have received job offers from unsavory regimes, including Iran and Libya.
As the breadth of the Soviet program became clear, U.S. officials were dismayed to find themselves on another surprise learning curve. After the 1991 Gulf War, Iraq had agreed to give United Nations inspectors a full accounting of its germ-weapons program. From the outset, however, the Iraqis lied and obfuscated. Only in 1995, when Saddam's son-in-law, Hussein Kamel, defected to Jordan, did the inspectors realize how massive the cover-up was. Kamel had been in charge of the program, and his defection prompted the Iraqis to acknowledge much that they had previously denied. They claimed sudden discovery of hidden documents confirming earlier production of thousands of gallons of anthrax and botulinum toxin. They acknowledged development of bombs and missile warheads to deliver them. But the Iraqis continued to block United Nations inspectors from visiting certain locations and in 1998 prohibited further inspections of any kind. Many experts believe the Iraqis are rebuilding their germ arsenals.
The book's virtues are many. It is readable, comprehensive, and credible. But it sometimes glides past issues that deserve further discussion. The authors report on a meeting President Clinton held on the need for biodefense with "seven of the nation's most distinguished scientists and public health experts." The president asked what they thought of Richard Preston's novel The Cobra Event, about a bioterrorist who developed a "brainpox" that melted the brain. Some told him the plot was believable. But those who disagreed said nothing: "Several of the experts said later that while they personally doubted that any scientist could conduct such a terrorist strike, they stayed silent at the meeting." That is all the authors say on the matter. Allowing the president to believe, erroneously, that there was unanimity served neither the president's interest nor the nation's. Shouldn't the authors have been doggedly asking why the experts remained silent?
Miller, Engelberg, and Broad might also have amplified on the reasons that germ weapons have been used so infrequently. In the past century, other than the Rajneeshee incident in Oregon, Japan's germ warfare against China was the only use of microorganisms to kill or infect large numbers of people. Thousands of Chinese reportedly died of plague in the 1930s after the Japanese released infected fleas from low-flying airplanes. Beyond these two episodes, either there were many failed attacks that we do not know about, or efforts have indeed been rare. The authors note that Aum Shinrikyo, the Japanese cult that poisoned Tokyo subway passengers with sarin nerve agent in 1995, had previously failed in attempts to infect people with anthrax. They conclude that mounting an effective germ attack is more difficult than many people think. But to emphasize the difficulty is to ignore the ease of the Rajneeshees' success. Whatever the reasons for the rare use of bioweapons--whether their perceived ineffectiveness, fear of retribution, or moral repugnance--understanding the reasons is important. What has deterred the use of these awful weapons in the past could help guide us to a more humane future.
The authors describe current biodefense efforts as too haphazard and diffuse. They call for better intelligence, larger drug stockpiles, and enhanced medical surveillance. And who, especially in the midst of the current scare, would disagree? Still, the public needs assurance that stepped-up research would not return us to some unfortunate practices of the 1950s and 1960s. At that time, the U.S. Army engaged in mock biological attacks on American cities. Although relatively harmless, the test germs did create health risks for a portion of the population.
An important book in any event, Germs has doubtlessly become more timely than its publisher ever expected. The authors wrote well before September 11 and before President Bush named Osama bin Laden and his Islamic extremist allies as responsible for that day's horror. All the more chilling and prescient, then, are references to bin Laden in the book: "The World Trade Center attack [in 1993] reflected a new paradigm--a holy war, with the United States cast as the enemy. Some of the more violent groups were underwritten by a wealthy Saudi exile, Osama bin Laden, who hoped to spread his radical vision of Islamic rule to Muslims everywhere and drive the United States out of the Middle East and Africa." And lest there be doubt about the connection between suicide bombers in Jerusalem and those in New York, earlier this year Miller and Engelberg reported that money and training provided by bin Laden was aiding militant Palestinian groups.
One passage in the book is positively spooky:
[Dick] Cheney and [Colin] Powell took their plan to the White House. At the table were President George Bush and several of his top aides. Some were surprised by the seriousness with which the Pentagon presented the Iraqi biological threat. Was it really likely that the Iraqis would use such weapons?
Ghosts of a decade ago continue to haunt: These words describe a meeting in 1989, not 2001.
But while old worries about Iraqi bioweapons seem distressingly contemporary, Miller, Engelberg, and Broad remind us of new threats as well. Last year George Tenet, the director of the CIA, asserted that bin Laden was "training his operatives to use chemical and biological toxins." The Times team shows how seriously such information should be taken and how much work needs to be done.
