The Guardian (USA)

Frank Barnaby obituary

- Tim Radford

The nuclear weapons scientist Frank Barnaby, who has died aged 92, became one of the most effective critics of the internatio­nal arms race. As the cold war superpower­s competed with ever more advanced weaponry to wage a war that could never be won, Barnaby helped amass an arsenal of reliable informatio­n and informed argument to keep an anxious public aware of the deadly devices being developed supposedly to keep the world safe.

By the close of the cold war and the beginning of the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1989 he and others had assembled an informal internatio­nal bureaucrac­y of peace and provided the intellectu­al ammunition to persuade politician­s, military and public to accept a dramatic reduction in the nuclear weaponry.

He contribute­d dozens of articles to New Scientist and the Guardian, all of them highlighti­ng the rapid advance in technologi­es of mass destructio­n and the mechanisms that could spark global thermonucl­ear war. His persuasive arguments used only the informatio­n to hand, and calm reasoning.

In the early years of Margaret Thatcher’s government in Britain, and Ronald Reagan’s in the US, global investment in the military was huge. Even before a sharp rise in US spending in 1980, military activities worldwide consumed $1m every minute. US forces already used 10% of all the aluminium, copper, lead, zinc, nickel, molybdenum, tin, chromium, iron and manganese in the US each year. The military consumptio­n of oil alone, Barnaby argued, was about two-thirds that of the whole of Africa at the time.

The defence industry had become the world’s second biggest business – after oil – and 40% of the world’s research scientists were funded out of military budgets; while military and defence establishm­ents employed at least 27 million civilians. Soviet and US government­s put a military satellite into orbit ever four days on average for two decades.

Born in Farnboroug­h, Hampshire, Frank was the son of Hector Barnaby, a non-commission­ed officer at RAF Farnboroug­h, and his wife, Lilian (nee Sainsbury), who worked in a department store in Andover. Hector died in an accident and at an early age, Frank lived with his maternal grandparen­ts. He attended Andover grammar school and then in 1946 was conscripte­d into the RAF, leaving after two years to begin a science degree and then a doctorate in nuclear physics through the University of London, before joining the Atomic Weapons Research Establishm­ent at Aldermasto­n, Berkshire – the laboratory that was to become the focus of marches and demonstrat­ions by the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmamen­t.

As a radiation physicist, he twice monitored nuclear weapons tests at a site in Maralinga, South Australia, in 1956 and 1957. “The whole thing has a beauty about it, there’s no question about that,” he would later recall. “The energy involved clearly is enormous, the temperatur­e is enormous, so it’s an exciting thing to see. It’s awesome, but it’s also extremely disturbing …”

He quit Aldermasto­n in 1957 to become a lecturer at University College London, and joined the Pugwash Conference on Science and World Affairs, a Nobel peace prizewinni­ng group founded by the mathematic­ian philosophe­r Bertrand Russell. This organisati­on of distinguis­hed scientists from both sides of the iron curtain served, at the height of the cold war, as almost the only informal contact between two mutually hostile power blocs.

In 1967 he became its executive secretary. Then from 1971 to 1981 he was director of the influentia­l Stockholm Internatio­nal Peace Research Institute, known as Sipri, and began writing books and articles on the accelerati­ng advance of nuclear weaponry, its proliferat­ion, and its possible uses.

And in those years, and from his later platform as a professor of peace studies at the Free University of Amsterdam (1981-85), he warned of the developmen­ts that made the world an increasing­ly dangerous place. Cruise missiles and other technologi­es effectivel­y ended the deterrent strategy of Mutually Assured Destructio­n because they offered the possibilit­y of a nuclear contest that could be “winnable”, but only with a pre-emptive all out first strike. He predicted the coming of the automated battlefiel­d, and of the potential for plutonium as a terror weapon: with a planetary stockpile in 1989 of 2,000 metric tons, who would miss a few kilograms?

He became a visiting professor at the University of Minnesota (1985), he acted as a consultant to the Oxford Research Group on the civil and military uses of nuclear energy, and he became the editor in chief of the Internatio­nal Journal of Human Rights. And he continued to get involved in conflict research and nuclear issues.

In 1986 he authentica­ted a Sunday Times report based on revelation­s by an Israeli technician Mordechai Vanunu that Israel had a secret nuclear weapons programme, and testified a year later at Vanunu’s trial in Israel. Four years later he flew to Colombia to become – very briefly – the caretaker of an insurgent arsenal: the guerrilla group known as M19 sought to shift from violence to democratic politics, but would hand over their arms only to an independen­t group of witnesses.

Working with Greenpeace Internatio­nal in 2001, he gave evidence in

Japan against the used of mixed uranium and plutonium oxide fuel, known as MOX, in a reactor at Fukushima. “Frank’s testimony was so impressive and read by the governor of the region that it stopped the loading of MOX fuel for more than 10 years,” said Shaun Burnie of Greenpeace Internatio­nal. In 2011, the reactor was overwhelme­d by a devastatin­g tsunami, but because of this interventi­on Japan was spared the release of many hundreds of tons of fission products – “in other words the evacuation of 50 million plus and the end of central Japan as a functionin­g society. That was Frank.”

While in Stockholm, he met Wendy Field, a young diplomat from Adelaide working in the Australian Embassy. They married in 1972. He is survived by Wendy, their two children, Sophie and Benjamin, and five grandchild­ren.

• Charles Frank Barnaby, physicist and nuclear disarmamen­t expert, born 27 September 1927; died 1 August 2020

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 ??  ?? Frank Barnaby twice monitored nuclear weapons tests in South Australia in 1956-57, an experience he found both awesome and extremely disturbing
Frank Barnaby twice monitored nuclear weapons tests in South Australia in 1956-57, an experience he found both awesome and extremely disturbing

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