The Society for the History of Technology has awarded its 2006 Brooke Hindle Fellowship to Sonja Schmid, a CISAC social science research associate and lecturer in Stanford's Program on Science, Technology and Society.

Schmid accepted the $10,000 award at the society's annual conference on Oct. 14. She will use it to support additional research in Russia for a book she is completing on the effects of the Chernobyl disaster on the Soviet and Russian nuclear power industry.

Tentatively titled "Producing Power: The Construction of a Civilian Nuclear Industry in the Soviet Union," the book begins with the Chernobyl explosion of April 26, 1986--"the worst accident at a civilian nuclear facility ever," Schmid notes.

The explosion ignited a fire that burned for more than 10 days and released radioactive materials over a large area of Belarus, Russia and Ukraine. Some 116,000 people evacuated the area that spring and another 220,000 moved later, according to a 2005 report by a forum the International Atomic Energy Agency convened to assess the accident's economic and health legacies.

The tragedy also resulted in the trial and sentencing of plant operators and "dismissal of the Chernobyl-type reactor design as 'inherently unsafe,'" Schmid explains. Her research examines the development of institutional structures and professional cultures within the Soviet civilian nuclear industry and the history of Soviet reactor design choices.

Schmid has done extensive research in Russian archives that opened after the fall of the Soviet Union. However, "much of this history was never written down," she said, so she also interviewed more than 20 senior nuclear specialists in Russia.

Now filling in details on her largely completed historical analysis, Schmid expects to finish the book manuscript by next summer. The fellowship selection committee called her work "a path-breaking contribution to the field" of technology history. Schmid's "study revises much of what we thought we knew about the development of nuclear power in the Soviet Union," the committee wrote.

On a trip to Russia in September and October 2006, she talked with high-ranking specialists in the Soviet and current Russian nuclear industry, some of whom she met through CISAC visiting professor Siegfried Hecker. A former director of the Los Alamos National Laboratory, Hecker continues to work with Russian scientists in cooperative threat reduction programs to secure former Soviet nuclear materials that could be used for weapons.

A source Schmid has yet to tap is the Archive of the Russian Federal Agency for Nuclear Energy, which maintains records on both military and civilian nuclear programs. The agency "has been publishing excellent series of documents on the history of the Soviet atomic bomb, or the military program," Schmid said, "but their documents on the civilian program so far remain classified." She said she will try again and that on this last visit to Russia she "was encouraged to keep doing so."

Her painstaking research stands to illuminate technological decisions with profound consequences. "While everything about the Chernobyl accident was Soviet--the reactor design, the attitude of operators, the bureaucracy--it shook a system that was designed to be safe," Schmid said. "The system, by its own standards and norms, was normal and perfectly functional," she added.

"Chernobyl is not something that 'could only happen in the Soviet Union,'" Schmid cautioned. "It could happen elsewhere."

In arguing that the United States has achieved nuclear primacy and thereby made mutual assured destruction obsolete, Lieber and Press rely on some questionable assumptions about the status of Russia's strategic forces.

To make their case that the Russian strategic nuclear arsenal "has sharply deteriorated," Lieber and Press quote statistics showing that Russia today has "39 percent fewer long-range bombers, 58 percent fewer ICBMs, and 80 percent fewer SSBNs [ballistic-missile-launching submarines] than the Soviet Union fielded during its last days." These numbers are generally correct, but a similarly one-sided examination of U.S. forces would have painted a similarly dire portrait; after all, the U.S. nuclear arsenal today has 66 percent fewer strategic bombers, 50 percent fewer ICBMs, and more than 50 percent fewer ballistic missile submarines than it possessed during the Cold War.

Lieber and Press claim that Russia's strategic bombers "rarely conduct training exercises," implying that Russia's military is neglecting strategic aviation. Yet Russia's strategic air forces participated in four major exercises in 2005 alone. Similarly, Lieber and Press refer to a number of failures during launches of submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs) in 2004 to illustrate the decline of the Russian navy. But they do not mention the much larger number of successful launches or the Bulava SLBM development program, which has been quite successful so far.

It may be true, as Lieber and Press write, that "over 80 percent of Russia's silo-based ICBMs have exceeded their original service lives," but regular and successful tests of ICBMs that have been kept in silos for 25 years or longer suggest that this has not affected the missiles' reliability. Russia is decommissioning its ICBMs not because they are unreliable but because it does not need them. Lieber and Press claim that the development of the next-generation Russian ICBM, the Topol-M, has been "stymied by failed tests." But of 15 flight tests conducted to date, only one has failed -- a remarkable achievement for any missile-development program. It is true that the production rate of new Topol-Ms is low, but that may be because Russia has decided to concentrate on producing the mobile version of the missile, which it will begin deploying this year.

Lieber and Press are right to state that Russia may end up having as few as 150 land-based missiles by the end of the decade. But about half of those ICBMs would probably be road-mobile Topols and Topol-Ms, which, if operated properly, would have a good chance of surviving a first strike. Lieber and Press dismiss Russia's mobile missiles by saying that they "rarely patrol." In reality, very little is known about Russia's mobile-missile patrol rates, and although it is quite plausible that they are low, it is a stretch to assume that they are zero.

Lieber and Press describe Russia's early warning system as "a mess." In fact, although the system is past its prime, it has lost surprisingly little of its effectiveness. It may seem counterintuitive, but Russia would gain very little were its early warning system to be deployed to the fullest extent. Adding the capability to detect SLBM launches would not dramatically increase the time available to the Russian leadership for assessing attacks. The much-discussed "gaping hole" in the radar coverage east of Russia also should be put in context. Missiles launched from the Pacific could not cover the entire range of Russian targets that would need to be destroyed in a first strike. The scenario that Lieber and Press postulate, in which "Russian leaders probably would not know of the attack until the warheads detonated" because of flaws in their early warning system, is simply impossible.

Given Tehran's defiant response to the European and American effort to constrain its nuclear program, it is time for bolder diplomacy out of Washington. U.S. President George W. Bush should take a page from the playbook of Ronald Reagan, who negotiated with an evil Soviet regime--competing in the war of ideas, but addressing the enemy's security concerns through arms-control agreements.

Iran's intransigence is both deeply unfortunate and perfectly predictable. It is unfortunate because Tehran's refusal to suspend its uranium-enrichment operations immediately--as demanded in July by the U.N. Security Council in a legally binding resolution--suggests that Iran is moving more quickly than expected toward a nuclear-weapons capability. Tehran has now turned the nuclear crisis into a test of the whole U.N. Security Council system. And Russia and China's current position, threatening to veto any biting sanctions against Iran, suggests that the Security Council may well fail this crucial test.

Tehran's response is predictable, however, because the offer on the table contains both inadequate economic carrots and barely credible threats of sanctions and military force. The carrots appeared impressive at first glance--in return for a suspension of enrichment we reportedly promised to provide light-water nuclear reactors and to help Iran with civil aviation and telecommunications technology. But we did not offer the one incentive that might possibly work, security guarantees that could reduce Iran's desire for nuclear weapons.

This omission is striking. The Iranian government can't talk openly about their security concerns because that would blow their cover story that the nuclear program is only for energy production. And Washington does not want to discuss such worries because it wants to keep open the possibility of removing the regime by force. "Security assurances are not on the table," U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice too cleverly argued this spring: "It is a little strange to talk about security guarantees ... I thought the Iranian position was that they weren't developing a nuclear bomb."

This is partly a crisis of our own making, as the Bush administration has practiced the reverse of Teddy Roosevelt's maxim--speaking loudly and carrying a small stick. Think about how Tehran reacted when Bush stated (in his second Inaugural Address), "The rulers of outlaw regimes can know that we still believe as Abraham Lincoln did: 'Those who deny freedoms to others deserve it not for themselves; and, under the rule of a just God, cannot long retain it." Or when Bush dramatically told reporters last April that "all options are on the table," in direct response to a question about whether he was considering a nuclear attack against Iran. Such statements only encourage Iran to develop a nuclear deterrent quickly, before the United States can carry out its perceived aggressive intent. Last month, Iran's National Security Council Secretary Ali Larijani pointedly complained about such rhetoric. "How can a side that wants to topple the regime also attempt to negotiate?"

Given the current vulnerability of U.S. forces in Iraq, the deteriorating situation in Afghanistan, and the lack of Israeli success against Hizbullah, Iranian officials seem confident that they face no immediate threat of a U.S. military assault. But they are clearly worried that Bush just might attack Iran right before he leaves office in January 2009, or that his successor might do so once U.S. forces withdraw from Iraq.

The best way to prevent a nuclear Iran is for Washington to offer the kind of security assurances that might reduce support in Tehran for building a nuclear arsenal. It will be hard to make such assurances credible, but a public U.S. promise to take forcible regime change off the table, and a U.N. Security Council commitment to protect the "political sovereignty" of Iran could help. Involving the Security Council could also pull China and Russia back into the nonproliferation coalition and enhance the U.N.'s legitimacy.

There is very little time left, which means negotiations should begin despite Iran's unfortunate opening position. Tehran's response reportedly indicated a willingness to negotiate all aspects of its nuclear program, so working out an agreement for Iran to limit itself to low-level uranium enrichment might still be possible. This would work only if Tehran accepts full IAEA inspections and a freeze on future centrifuge construction. Will they? The one thing that might cause Tehran to do so, and that would compensate for any loss of face, would be an assurance that the United States will not launch another preventive war, as it did in Iraq, to remove the Iranian regime. If in turn we get a nuclear-free Iran, that's a good deal for the West as well.

One day perhaps Marina Agaltsova will join the diplomatic corps at a foreign embassy, or help write policy positions for the Russian government. Coit Blacker hopes that the lessons from her Stanford-sponsored distance-learning course will stick.

Agaltsova was among a group of Russian students brought to the provincial city of Yaroslavl in late May for an academic conference that capped this year's five distance-learning courses offered at nine universities across Russia by the Initiative on Distance Learning at the Freeman Spogli Institute for International Studies.

Through videotaped lectures, web readings and online chat sessions with senior research scholar Kathryn Stoner-Weiss and 14 other Stanford instructors, students in Democracy, Development and Rule of Law explored democratic ideals and practices, studying examples in Latin America, Asia and the former Soviet Union. "The course taught me that there is a black side to the reforms" that followed perestroika in Russia, Agaltsova says. "I learned more about Russian history [in the course] than I had learned in school."

That's the idea, says FSI director Blacker, who wants to re-establish the teaching of critical analysis, lost under decades of Communist rule, in Russian universities. "The social sciences were disemboweled," he says. He wants to develop future generations of diplomats and policy makers whose worldview is shaped "by how they think, not what they're told to think."

This year, to cap off the courses, 40 students came to Yaroslavl to participate in a mock United Nations Security Council session addressing Iran's nuclear program. They traveled from the farthest reaches of the Russian hinterlands, like Amur State University in Blagoveschensk, 4,800 miles from Moscow.

The arms control simulation is a teaching tool developed for the Stanford undergraduate class International Security in a Changing World, taught by Blacker and Scott Sagan, a political science professor and director of the Center for International Security and Cooperation within FSI. Sagan has exported the simulation to several universities in the United States where his former graduate students now teach--UC-Berkeley, Dartmouth, Columbia, Duke--but this was the first one he has conducted overseas.

This year's scenario was the International Atomic Energy Agency's referral of Iran to the U.N. Security Council for failure to fully disclose its nuclear activities. During the simulation, students submitted proposals to their heads of state, played by Blacker, Sagan and Russian faculty members. By the end of the two-day session, delegates had overcome seemingly intractable differences during four intensive sessions led by Stanford third-year law student Matthew Rojansky, acting as U.N. undersecretary-general for legal affairs. The council's resolution gave Iran three months to comply with the IAEA's requests and provided for Iran to obtain nuclear fuel from Russia, with the production and waste disposal to occur on Russian soil under IAEA controls.

After the session closed, students set aside their delegate roles to reflect on what they had learned. Narina Tadevosian, a student from Yakutsk State in far eastern Siberia, said she was surprised at "how strict Russia was" in taking a leading role in the session.

"If only it were so in real life," she added.

Americans have never been in greater need of understanding religious differences and cultivating respect for religious freedom. The events of 9/11 transformed America's relationship with Muslims at home and abroad, a surge in immigration from Asia and Africa has increased the nation's religious diversity, and cultural conflicts between secularists and religious conservatives occur like clockwork.

So you might think the last thing school districts would want is to bring religion into the classroom. Better to play it safe, and avoid lawsuits and angry parents by limiting any mention of faith to the private sphere. But school officials in Modesto, in Northern California, decided not to play it safe. In 2000, the religiously diverse community took a risk and, in an almost unheard-of undertaking for a public school district, offered a required course on world religions and religious liberty for ninth-graders.

As college professors and social scientists studying religious freedom in the USA, we wanted to know more. Could greater discussion of religious differences actually deepen cultural divides? From October 2003 to January '05, we surveyed more than 400 Modesto students and conducted in-depth interviews with students, teachers, administrators and community leaders. We granted anonymity to students so they could speak freely, but we recorded the interviews. No prior study on American teens' views on religious liberty has scientifically surveyed such a large number of students.

To our surprise, students' respect for rights and liberties increased measurably after taking the course. Perhaps more important, the community has embraced the course as a vehicle for fostering understanding, not indoctrination.

All-American city

Modesto, population 190,000, resembles many medium-size U.S. cities. Over the past 40 years, it has made room for an array of immigrants, including Buddhists, Sikhs and Muslims. Evangelical "megachurches" have sprung up alongside mainline Protestant and Roman Catholic denominations and a flourishing Jewish community. Overt incidents of religious prejudice have been rare, but the cultural divide bred mutual suspicion.

In 1997, some religious groups in Modesto battled the school over a policy of tolerance for gay and lesbian students. Out of the dispute came a meeting of the minds: A 115-member committee of community members and educators was formed to examine how to provide safe schools for all students. That meant putting an end to bullying, whether based on sexual orientation, race or ethnicity--even religion. The world religions course was one of several initiatives designed to further the "safe schools" mission.

The experiment succeeded. Our surveys indicate it increased students' respect for religious liberty as well as for basic First Amendment rights. One Russian Orthodox boy, for instance, found that the course brought him closer to his neighbors. "We have a Hindu family living across the street who pray(s) to a statue," he said. "I thought it was just plain dumb. But I notice now they had a pretty good reason."

Bringing religious beliefs out into the open increased students' respect for religious liberty for two reasons. First, students not only emerged from the course far more knowledgeable about world religions, they also were able to apply the knowledge practically. One student told us that the course gave him a greater appreciation for the religious diversity in his school. "I walk up to one of my friends I've known for years. I had no idea he was a Sikh. When I see the bracelet (worn for religious reasons), I say, 'Oh, you're a Sikh.' "

Second, students learned that major faiths shared common moral values. When we asked one student why she enjoyed studying other religions, she said: "All my life I've been a Christian, and that's really the only religion I know about. So when I take this class I see there are other religions out there, and they kind of believe in the same thing I do."

Even so, students did not become relativists or converts. They were no more likely to disbelieve the truth of their own religious traditions after taking the course.

A broad spectrum of Modesto's residents has embraced the course. Students can opt out, but only a handful have. The school board, which stands divided on other hot-button cultural issues, voted unanimously to adopt the course. Religious leaders of all faiths lent their support because they realized that something had to be done to bring peace to the schools--and that pushing religious identity undercover would create more problems than it solved.

Lessons beyond Modesto

Recent disputes over the teaching of evolution in Kansas and Dover, Pa., and over a Bible studies course in Odessa, Texas, have made national headlines. These stories leave the impression that all attempts to teach about religion in public schools--even courses far more balanced than these disputed courses--are bound to cause controversy. How did Modesto avoid this fate, and what lessons does Modesto provide for other communities?

• Extensive training gave teachers the knowledge and enthusiasm to handle a sensitive subject.
• An interfaith religious council reviewed the course before its implementation and paved the way for its acceptance. The council members applauded particularly the district's decision to have the course focus on objectively describing religions rather than evaluating their merits.
• The focus on description prevented the perception that the course was biased or an attempt to indoctrinate students into a particular faith.
• Most crucial was the school district's decision to introduce the course as part of an effort to counteract the hostility against students who were seen as different.

Limiting deeply held beliefs to the private sphere breeds suspicion and tension. True religious liberty prevails not only when people feel comfortable expressing their beliefs, but also when they learn to discuss religious differences with civility and respect.

 Emile Lester is an assistant professor at The College of William and Mary. Patrick S. Roberts is a postdoctoral fellow at the Center for International Security and Cooperation at Stanford University.