American Prometheus: The Triumph and Tragedy of J. Robert Oppenheimer

“He gets to the soul and torment of man.”

In March 1926—a month before his 22nd birthday—Oppenheimer accompanied friends from Cambridge on a brief getaway to the island of Corsica. When one of them mentioned that he enjoyed the literary works of Leo Tolstoy, Oppenheimer replied that he preferred another great Russian author: Fyodor Dostoyevsky. According to Oppenheimer, Dostoyevsky’s work revealed man’s “soul and torment.” This comment sheds light on young Oppenheimer’s dark state of mind during his year in England. The Corsican vacation helped improve his outlook, but periodic depression plagued Oppenheimer for the rest of his life.

“My two great loves are physics and New Mexico. It’s a pity they can’t be combined.”

In the summer of 1929, Oppenheimer took one of his regular trips to New Mexico. After a day of horseback riding through the spectacular mountains, he wrote a letter expressing “pity” that he could not unite “physics and New Mexico.” This union occurred in 1943 when he became the director of the US atomic bomb program at Los Alamos. At the end of Chapter 1, Bird and Sherwin cite another instance of foreshadowing: when Robert first saw the valley of Los Alamos.

“And then he met a woman who would change his life.”

This final sentence of Part 1 introduces Jean Tatlock, a 22-year-old student at Stanford University School of Medicine. She became his fiancée—though they never married—and was a Communist. Their relationship helped spark a political awakening in the young physicist. No available evidence proves that he ever joined the Communist Party, but he did support left-wing causes and donated to them through the Party. Bird and Sherwin consider Tatlock’s presence in his life so significant that it marks the transition from Part 1 to Part 2 of their biography.

“Most importantly, there is no evidence that he ever submitted himself to Party discipline.”

Whether Oppenheimer ever joined the Communist Party USA remains uncertain, but Party discipline helped distinguish a committed member from a mere dabbler. Some claim that the Communist Party demanded that members subordinate all other aspects of their lives to the Party and that in the 1930s this meant taking directives from Moscow, the capital of the former Soviet Union. By this criterion, Oppenheimer unquestionably did not qualify as a Communist. Not even Jean Tatlock, Frank and Jackie Oppenheimer, or others in the physicist’s circle of friends and family who joined the Party ever submitted themselves to such discipline. This point illustrates the ambiguous nature of many US leftists’ Communist association.

“It did not take long for those he worked with to be convinced that if the problems associated with building an atomic bomb were to be solved quickly, Oppie had to play an important role in the process.”

In the early 1940s, Oppenheimer attended regular meetings to discuss whether splitting the uranium nucleus by fission could result in a practical atomic weapon. He became essential to these discussions and eventually to the bomb program because of his remarkable ability to synthesize relevant information. Although he never won a Nobel Prize, his work as a theoretical physicist prepared him to tackle large problems. Bird and Sherwin emphasize his extreme aversion to experimental laboratory work. Unlike “hands-on” scientists such as his brother (Frank), Oppenheimer impressed colleagues with the breadth of his knowledge. This made him the ideal choice for the directorship at Los Alamos.

“If the transcript implicates Joe in passing information to Nelson, it also demonstrates that Oppenheimer had become security conscious, and Nelson concluded that he had become uncooperative and overly cautious.”

In 1943, the FBI used an illegal wiretap to record and transcribe a conversation between Steve Nelson, a known Communist, and a scientist named “Joe,” who worked at the Berkeley Radiation Lab. The two men discussed an unnamed scientist easily identifiable as Oppenheimer. Nelson clearly wanted Joe to help acquire information that would help the Soviets, the US’s wartime ally. Both men, however, expressed frustration with Oppenheimer’s secrecy and unwillingness to aid the Soviets. This is an important piece of evidence that by 1943 Oppenheimer had long abandoned any Communist Party connection.

“Only one thing mattered now to Oppenheimer: building the weapon before the Nazis did.”

Oppenheimer overcame all moral scruples about atomic weaponry because he regarded Nazi Germany as a unique existential threat to civilization. In addition, the fear that German scientists had a head start in the race to build a bomb haunted Oppenheimer and others involved in the US bomb program. They felt intense urgency. This single-minded focus precluded forethought about the bomb’s postwar consequences in 1943-44. Only when Allied victory appeared certain did Oppenheimer and others begin to dwell on moral questions.

“It was as if he unknowingly had swallowed a time bomb; a decade would pass before it exploded.”

In 1943, Oppenheimer spoke to Army counterintelligence officer Col. Boris T. Pash about George Eltenton, a Shell Development Corporation employee who wanted to share scientific information with the Soviets and therefore approached Oppenheimer through an intermediary. During the interview, Oppenheimer said more than he should have, refused to name the intermediary, and embellished or even invented parts of his story. This “time bomb” exploded at the 1954 hearing that resulted in the revocation of Oppenheimer’s security clearance.

Jean’s unsigned suicide note suggests that she died by her own hand—a ‘paralyzed soul’—and this is certainly what Oppenheimer always believed.”

Jean Tatlock, Oppenheimer’s former fiancée, died by suicide on January 4, 1944. She left a note explaining that she “would have been a liability” had she lived and that “at least [she] could take away the burden of a paralyzed soul from a fighting world” (250). Some historians have speculated that bad actors, aware of her Communist sympathies and connection to Oppenheimer, might have played a role in her death. However, Bird and Sherwin conclude that her note has the authentic ring of someone overwhelmed by deep emotional distress. This was a common theme in Oppenheimer’s life and in the lives of the women closest to him.

“No one thought the Japanese had a bomb program.”

This short sentence, which appears nearly halfway through the book, is Bird and Sherwin’s first mention of Japan. Oppenheimer and his fellow scientists kept their focus on building the bomb because they always assumed that the Germans were doing so. Japan had never entered their calculations. At least one scientist recalls having serious reservations on this front as early as 1944, but no evidence shows that Oppenheimer or other scientists seriously considered quitting.

“The fire-bombing raids continued and by July 1945, all but five of Japan’s major cities had been razed and hundreds of thousands of Japanese civilians had been killed.”

When US forces dropped atomic bombs on the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in August 1945, the attacks were not the most lethal air raids conducted during that year. The US firebombing of Tokyo on March 9-10, for instance, resulted in at least as many casualties than either atomic bomb. Bird and Sherwin call this “total warfare, an attack aimed at the destruction of a nation, not just its military targets” (291). Continued firebombing of Japanese cities represented one plausible or even likely alternative to atomic attacks.

“The enormity of what had happened at Hiroshima and Nagasaki had affected him profoundly.”

News of the Hiroshima attack left many Los Alamos scientists with mixed feelings. After the Nagasaki attack three days later, the mood turned somber. Oppenheimer became deeply depressed when his mind focused on his work’s consequences rather than the work itself; according to Kitty, he was “beside himself” (320).

“On this important occasion, the composure and powers of persuasion of the usually charming and self-possessed Oppenheimer had abandoned him.”

On October 25, 1945, Oppenheimer met with Truman in the Oval Office. The two men instantly disliked one another. Oppenheimer considered Truman a fool for insisting that the Soviets would never develop their own atomic bomb. In addition, when the anguished physicist remarked, “I feel I have blood on my hands,” the president became annoyed, later dismissing Oppenheimer as a “cry-baby scientist” (332). Although the two men had different temperaments, Bird and Sherwin note that Oppenheimer had managed hundreds of personalities at once and usually impressed people when he felt at ease, so his tense encounter with Truman represents a failure in his best chance to influence postwar atomic policy.

“By then, Oppie was disillusioned with both the Soviet and American positions.”

In January 1947, Oppenheimer became chair of the General Advisory Committee, a group of scientists whom the president appointed to advise the Atomic Energy Commission. After failing to persuade US policymakers to take a stance of genuine openness and consider international control of atomic energy, Oppenheimer realized that stubborn Truman administration officials—who regarded atomic weapons as the only reliable deterrent against Soviet aggression in Western Europe—were only one obstacle. Joseph Stalin’s Soviet Union was a totalitarian state that both cultivated and thrived on paranoia, so in 1947 it was hardly a fit partner for an arms control agreement. In addition, the Soviets simply wanted to ban the atomic bomb, which they did not yet possess.

“The vote was unanimous; even Strauss, the most conservative commissioner, voted for the clearance.”

In August 1947, the Atomic Energy Commission approved Oppenheimer’s top-secret clearance. No one dissented, not even Lewis Strauss, who eventually became obsessed with destroying him. Thus, the information that caused him grief in his 1954 hearing was already in his file and been reviewed in 1947.

“Robert must have known that Kitty’s drinking was a symptom of a deep pain, a pain he understood would always be there.”

Oppenheimer was unfaithful to his wife—he had romantic affairs with at least two women while married to Kitty—but remained loyal to her amid her excessive drinking. Although he did not always respond to her the way she wanted—“I am sure that is why she threw things at him,” one of Kitty’s friends recalled—he remained patient during her worst moments. Bird and Sherwin suggest that he understood her pain, likely because he sometimes felt it too.

“The debate over the Super had thus crystallized the underlying hysteria of the Cold War and divided policy-makers and politicians into two permanently opposed Cold War camps—arms racers and arms controllers.”

In the 1945-46 debate over international control of atomic energy, Oppenheimer eventually yielded to the establishment, partly because he considered the Soviets untrustworthy. The enthusiasm of some for a superbomb, however, disgusted him, and he “permanently” aligned with “arms controllers.” The debate’s intensity peaked after the Soviets detonated their first atomic bomb in August 1949.

“The facts were essential to any understanding. But the facts were classified.”

Oppenheimer had followed security protocols since 1943 at Los Alamos but regarded excessive secrecy as dangerous. The public remained ignorant of the truth, which posed a serious problem for democratic self-government. Additionally, once conditioned to the security regime, people reflexively treated the word “classified” as if it had mystical properties. In truth, those who decided to classify a document might have had an interest in concealing their activities.

“Einstein doesn’t understand.”

Einstein urged Oppenheimer to give up his security clearance rather than subject himself to a politically motivated hearing. Oppenheimer later told a friend that “Einstein doesn’t understand.” The friend noted that Einstein had left his native Germany and had no plans to return, whereas Oppenheimer deeply loved his homeland and had served in a key capacity both during and since the war. His patriotism, therefore, prevented him from giving up without a fight.

“It was a stoical and rather passive reaction, not unlike his quiet acceptance all those years before when as a young boy he had been locked in the camp icehouse.”

This psychological insight refers to Oppenheimer’s near-fatalistic insistence on continuing with the security clearance hearing despite multiple attorneys’ outrage over the extrajudicial proceedings. Oppenheimer appeared resigned to defeat but unwilling or unable to change course. The “camp icehouse” incident occurred when 14-year-old Robert, previously sheltered and awkward, became a target of typical adolescent cruelty at summer camp. He endured being locked in an icehouse overnight “in stoic silence; he neither left the camp nor complained” (21).

“Comprising some 750,000 words in 993 densely printed pages, In The Matter of J. Robert Oppenheimer soon became a seminal document of the early Cold War.”

Lasting nearly four weeks, Oppenheimer’s security clearance hearing produced a gargantuan transcript of testimony from dozens of witnesses. It reflected the intense anti-Communist sentiment of the period and the lengths to which proponents of nuclear proliferation would go to discredit and silence dissenters.

“Gone were the days when he might organize a fund-raiser for some good cause—or even sign a petition.”

The hearing left Oppenheimer exhausted, passive, and unwilling to share political opinions too different from the mainstream. Bird and Sherwin consider this precisely the purpose behind his humiliating hearing and McCarthyism in general.

“I think this is the most extraordinary collection of talent, of human knowledge, that has ever been gathered together at the White House, with the possible exception of when Thomas Jefferson dined alone.”

President John F. Kennedy made this famous remark at an April 1962 White House dinner—which Oppenheimer attended—in honor of 49 Nobel laureates. Oppenheimer’s invitation to the event confirmed that his public rehabilitation was largely complete, though it made little practical difference because he remained well outside the councils of government where he once served.