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TIME: Almanac 1990
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1990 Time Magazine Compact Almanac, The (1991)(Time).iso
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011689
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01168900.048
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1990-09-17
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NATION, Page 22The Search for a Poison Antidote
If good intentions could stop the proliferation of chemical
weapons, the scourge would have been cleaned up long ago. Over the
past 63 years, 131 nations have signed the 1925 Geneva Protocol,
which outlaws the use of poison gases. Yet at least 17 countries
are believed to possess chemical weapons. They were most recently
used last March, with hellish results, when Iraq unleashed mustard
and cyanide gases on its own Kurdish citizens.
Like other high-minded declarations that followed the horrors
of World War I, the Geneva Protocol has no teeth: although it
forbids the use of poison gases, it bans neither their production
nor their stockpiling. The result is that the issue of chemical
weapons has returned time and again to the international agenda,
stirring debate at the United Nations, at diplomatic conferences
and at each of the four superpower summits since 1985.
This week the talk continues in Paris, where representatives
from 142 nations have convened. The chances for a breakthrough
anytime soon are slim. Only the U.S., the Soviet Union and Iraq
have even acknowledged owning chemical arsenals. Yet in recent
years, there have been claims that poison gases have been used by
Libya against Chad, by Viet Nam against Kampuchean rebels and by
Iran and Iraq against each other in their recently concluded war.
It was Iraq's slaughter of the Kurds that prompted President Reagan
to call for the Paris conference. The initiative was quickly
seconded by President Francois Mitterrand of France, one of the
countries that had unwittingly supplied Iraq with equipment that
helps in the manufacture of chemical weapons. The results of that
exchange, understates a senior French diplomat, "gave one pause."
A declaration of international outrage against chemical weapons
and a reaffirmation of the Geneva Protocol may at least slow the
trend toward poison gases. "There's a general consensus that use
of chemical weapons is wrong," says William Burns, director of the
U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency. "I think we want to
re-establish that." The U.S. hopes that the Paris meeting will pump
momentum into the Conference on Disarmament, a 40-nation effort to
write a treaty that would ban the gases outright. As an interim
step, several participants want to strengthen the U.N.
Secretary-General's authority to investigate charges of
chemical-weapons use.
Until recently, East-West distrust posed the largest hurdle to
an effective ban. But in 1987, two years after Congress voted to
end an 18-year moratorium on the American manufacture of chemical
weapons, the Soviet Union acceded to U.S. demands for on-site
"challenge inspections" to enforce a treaty. Today the larger
obstacle is posed by Third World nations that are reluctant to give
up what is known as the "poor man's atom bomb." Poison gases, after
all, are cheap and easy to manufacture. "All a terrorist needs is
a milk bottle of nerve gas," says a British weapons expert, "and
that he can get from a quiet lab in a back street of Tripoli." Thus
even if a treaty could be hammered out to the satisfaction of
Moscow and Washington, says Burns, the U.S. would not sign unless
every nation in possession of chemical arsenals agreed to it as
well.
But most countries can piously deny their involvement. As last
week's verbal cross fire over Libya indicated, it is not easy to
distinguish between factories that manufacture fertilizers,
pesticides or pharmaceutical products and those that produce
chemical weapons. Experts say that with just the turn of some
levers or the change of a catalyst, a plant can convert from the
production of pest killers to people killers in as little as 24
hours. Small wonder, then, that the U.S. spurned Libya's offer for
a one-time inspection of the facility at Rabta.
An effective inspection would require ripping apart a chemical
plant to analyze manufactured materials and examine waste products
taken from sewers, ventilators and pipes. If chemical weapons were
not yet in production (as the U.S. believes to be the case at
Rabta), the inspection would turn up no damning residues. Other
telltale signs would be the protective equipment used at the plant,
including the presence of special ventilation systems and chemical
sensors connected to alarms. But that same equipment is employed
in pesticide and fertilizer manufacture. Inspectors must also look
for military-oriented equipment, such as machinery to produce or
fill chemical-weapons shells. The Rabta facility offers one other
clue: it is surrounded by surface-to-air missiles that, William
Burns dryly notes, must make it the "most heavily defended
pharmaceutical plant in the world."
Even if a nation were caught making chemical weapons, who could
enforce the rules, short of military action? Would the guilty
government dismantle its own facility -- particularly if the plant
also produced agricultural and pharmaceutical products? Perhaps
more to the point, would other nations agree to halt the lucrative
export of the component parts? As the Reagan Administration learned
in its dealings with Iran, it is hard enough for nations to abide
by an arms embargo, let alone enforce one.