Manh(a)ttan and the Life of a Nuclear Weapons Scientist

Last week we took a glimpse into the life and culture of nuclear weapons scientists through the eyes of Hugh Gusterson, an anthropologist and an activist. In one of his articles, "Becoming a Weapons Scientist" on his time spent studying the makes of these weapons of mass destruction, he delves into many aspects of the personal lives of the physicists, as wells as their professional. In fact, his limited access to the actual scientific nature of their work meant much of his research fell well within the realm of the personal. Some issues that came up, particularly with one interview subject, Sylvia, were the effects of the privacy of their work, and the moral questions that arose from it. All those avenues are probed in the new semi-historical period show, Manh(a)ttan (emphasis on the "a" as in "A-bomb") about the Manhattan Project and the scientists who worked on it. Although the show makes no claims to historical and certainly not scientific accuracy, it nonetheless makes some salient points about the interesting dilemma these scientists found themselves in. In the midst of torrid love affairs, dramatic shootings, and pompous monologues on man's nature, some truths might be dug up. One of the many issues plaguing the characters is their inability to divulge what their working on. The two main scientists, Dr.s Charlie Isaacs and Frank Winter, have uprooted their families from comfortable lives in academia to middle-of-nowhere New Mexico and cannot give a substantial explanation why. The usual, "How was your day at work?" conversations over the dinner table have become a national security issue. Furthermore, Charlie Isaacs in particular finds himself unsure about the morality of creating the weapon. He can logically understand the necessity of beating Hitler to the punch, but when it comes time for him to make a decision that would place the success or failure of the bomb on his shoulders, he chokes. Frank Winter, an older, more grizzled scientist, is more immune to these kinds of moral quibbles. He has a unique perspective because he was also a soldier in the first World War. As he says, "In this war, scientists are soldiers." Keeping secrets from his wife and kids, obeying army protocol, and accepting the potential for huge loss of life are not new to him as a veteran. But for many of the other scientists on the base, this is not their mindset. They are now forced to turn mathematical equations on a page into murders, which is something their scientific training never prepared them for. Which brings us back to society's general opinion of scientists, especially physicists: that they are rooted in the abstract. And certainly this seems to be the case in Manh(a)ttan's portrayal, and also in Sharon Traweek's book where the abstract theories produced by master physicists are valued far more than the practical skills of mechanical engineers. So perhaps we can bring back in Gusterson's idea of Nuclear Rites, the idea that the first weapons test for a scientist served a sort of cultural initiatory purpose. Perhaps part of that initiation was introducing the physicist to the concept that their ideas would not remain firmly encapsulated on pages of paper any longer. Now their ideas would have the power to explode.