Dr. Strangelove in Orbit: Lessons Still Unlearned

Why is one of the clearest red lines in Space being openly debated again?

Credit: The Space Republic

“But the whole point of the Doomsday Machine is lost if you keep it a secret!”
— Dr. Strangelove

In Stanley Kubrick’s Dr. Strangelove, the world ends not in a blaze of villainy, but in a cascade of human error, bureaucratic rigidity, and misplaced confidence in deterrence logic. Nuclear war begins with silence, unfolds through miscommunication, and ends with a plan to survive underground in mine shafts: an absurd, chilling, yet all too believable scenario.

Today, that same fragile logic is drifting into orbit.

No state has deployed a nuclear weapon in space. And yet, the growing suspicion that one might—the ambiguity, the silence, the refusal to reaffirm long-standing norms—is already revealing how unprepared we are. The taboo that once kept space free from weapons of mass destruction is weakening, and with it, the illusion of stable governance. Once again, we are watching the lights blink red on systems we believed were safe.

The Stakes: Why Nukes in Orbit Still Matter

The threat of detonating nuclear weapons in space is not new. All nuclear-armed states have long had the ability to place warheads in orbit. During the early years of the space age, both the United States and the Soviet Union conducted nuclear tests in space. The 1962 Starfish Prime test, in particular, demonstrated just how devastating such a weapon could be to all satellites, and to the space environment itself.

A thermonuclear bomb detonated 400 kilometers above the Pacific—roughly where the International Space Station flies today—produced an electromagnetic pulse that immediately disabled eight of 24 satellites in orbit and debilitated orbital regions with radiation that lasted for months.

Today, with more than 11,000 active satellites—over 7,000 of them in low Earth orbit—the consequences of such a detonation would be exponentially worse. Communications, GPS, financial transactions, emergency services, and early warning systems would all be at risk. Astronauts aboard the ISS or China’s Tiangong station could be exposed. The physical damage would be accompanied by cascading effects: orbital debris, radiation hazards, and a high risk of escalation on Earth.

In short, a nuclear detonation in orbit wouldn’t just target satellites—it could dismantle modern infrastructure, sow worldwide confusion, and tip us into global war.

So why is one of the clearest red lines in space being openly debated again?

Because two familiar rivals — the United States and Russia — are trading accusations and denials while trust unravels in real time. The rest of the world watches, with no clear way to verify the truth or defuse the tension. It’s a reminder that space security still runs more on assumptions than on the practical systems needed to protect them.

What We Think We Know (But Don’t)

In early 2024, the United States revealed intelligence suggesting that Russia was developing a “space-based nuclear weapon” capable of destroying large numbers of satellites in a single blast. Analysts initially assumed the threat referred to a nuclear-powered jammer or directed energy system, which fit with existing open-source intelligence. But U.S. officials later clarified: they believed Russia was preparing a system designed to detonate a nuclear device in space.

Attention focused on a satellite launched in 2022—Cosmos 2553—launched into a rare orbit at the very edge of LEO, currently used as a graveyard for defunct missions. The U.S. pointed to signs of radiation testing and later stated the satellite carried a “dummy warhead.” Russia confirmed the satellite was conducting radiation experiments but denied any connection to weapons development, calling the accusations “baseless.” Since then, Cosmos 2553 has reportedly begun tumbling out of control.

Whatever the truth, here’s the problem: we have no clear way to verify either story. No mechanisms to inspect, no rules to compel disclosure, and no crisis response tools if something goes wrong.

Nukes and Space: The Long Shadow

While no weapons have been placed in orbit, nuclear logic has always been close at hand. During the Cold War, the Soviet Union tested a fractional orbital bombardment system (FOBS) capable of launching nuclear warheads into partial Earth orbit and dropping them for surprise attack. Although never armed, the system was deployed, tested, and briefly operational. In 2021, China reportedly demonstrated a similar capability combined with a hypersonic re-entry vehicle. These weapons fall into legal grey zones: they don’t remain in orbit long enough to violate the letter of the Outer Space Treaty, even if they shatter its spirit.

More broadly, space has become deeply entangled with nuclear deterrence on Earth. Space systems now provide the backbone for nuclear command and control—communications, early warning, targeting. Any interference with these assets, even accidental, could be misinterpreted as a prelude to nuclear war and trigger a catastrophic response.

At the same time, both the United States and Russia maintain doctrines that allow for the use of nuclear weapons in response to “significant” non-nuclear threats—including cyberattacks or in space. Add to that a steady decline in arms control agreements and rising strategic competition, and you have a dangerous mix: ambiguity, high alert, and mutual suspicion.

In this context, the real danger may not be a nuclear weapon in space, but the strategic ambiguity surrounding what counts as a threat—and the absence of tools to de-escalate if something goes wrong.

A Breakdown of Governance

When I was first interviewed for my role at Project Ploughshares, I was asked how I stay motivated working on issues that can take decades to show progress. At the time, I had no idea how prescient that question would be.

Space governance is not just stalled—it’s in retreat.

Despite the principle of “peaceful uses” being a cornerstone of space law, few states are willing to accept meaningful constraints. The UN’s Prevention of an Arms Race in Outer Space (PAROS) agenda has lingered for more than four decades without real advancement. Recent processes have only confirmed the impasse: the 2023 Open-Ended Working Group on Reducing Space Threats (OEWG) failed to adopt a report—or even to report back to the General Assembly that it did indeed meet. A new OEWG aimed at combining behavioral norms with legally binding instruments remains stuck before it has even begun, with states unable to agree on an agenda, while Russia refuses to meet without one. It’s hard not to think that at least some states want the process to fail.

In this context, the existing legal ban on nuclear weapons in space stands out as one of the few clear, longstanding, and widely accepted limitations. But even that foundation is beginning to crack.

Dueling Resolutions, Dueling Accusations

The breakdown of governance catapulted the issue of nuclear weapons in space all the way to the UN Security Council in 2024. The U.S. and Japan introduced a resolution at the UN Security Council reaffirming the Outer Space Treaty’s nuclear ban and calling on all states to refrain from developing such weapons. Russia vetoed the resolution and proposed its own, calling for a ban on all weapons in space.

Both proposals reflect laudable goals. But both failed.

Why? On the one hand, these resolutions reflected dueling accusations: while the U.S. accuses Russia of developing a nuclear weapon capability intended for orbit, Russia likewise accuses the U.S. of arming outer space with (non-nuclear) weapons. But crucially, both visions fundamentally lacked any mechanisms to ensure implementation. How do you prove a state isn’t developing a capability it could someday deploy in orbit? How do you agree on what even counts as a weapon in space—let alone clearly identify one among thousands of satellites, many with dual-purpose capabilities? Neither resolution answered these questions. Without practical ways to verify or enforce these promises, both drafts were destined to remain just that: promises.

Technology Can’t Save Us

Some argue we should simply focus on resilience—on building satellites that can withstand attack, or systems that can clean radiation from orbit. The U.S. has explored both. But these approaches won’t prevent immediate destruction. And as the threat of a nuclear detonation in orbit reminds us: there are limits to resilience.

Others argue for yet more weapons. President Trump's "Golden Dome" is a proposed $175 billion (an incredibly conservative estimate) missile defense system designed to protect the U.S. from advanced missile threats, including those launched from space. The plan envisions a network of satellites equipped with interceptors to detect and neutralize incoming missiles. Critics, however, argue that the system is unlikely to work as advertised, and may provide a false sense of security, and could trigger a new arms race, as adversaries may develop countermeasures to bypass the system.

If the logic sounds terrifyingly familiar, it should. It’s Dr. Strangelove all over again: deterrence without shared understanding, technology without accountability, escalation by default.

From Mine Shafts to Mars

In Dr. Strangelove, when nuclear war becomes unavoidable, the solution is not peace, it’s survival in mineshafts: a ten-to-one female-to-male ratio is proposed to repopulate humanity underground. It’s absurd, and intentionally so.

Today, we call that Plan B “Mars.”

But as inspiring as off-world colonies are, they’re no substitute for sound governance here and now. If we can’t maintain stability 400 kilometers above Earth, we are not ready to govern another planet. The solution isn’t to escape; it’s to accept responsibility.

What Needs to Happen

We don’t need another empty declaration. We need to turn the principles of space security into practice. That means:

• 1. Define the threat clearly.
  States should agree, at least in broad strokes, on what counts as a nuclear weapon in space and what kinds of development or testing cross the line. No definition will be perfect, but thresholds can guide accountability and shape how new rules apply to emerging technologies.

• 2. Make transparency routine through behaviour.
  Encourage voluntary pre-launch notifications for satellites in sensitive or unusual orbits. Share information about radiation-related missions or other activities that might raise suspicion. Shared explanations of intent don’t solve everything, but they build confidence step by step.

• 3. Build real crisis tools before we need them.
  Create hotlines, information-sharing protocols and trusted third parties who can help clarify incidents when something goes wrong. These tools exist for other nuclear risks; space should not be an exception.

• 4. Rebuild diplomacy, wherever it can gain traction.
  Formal UN groups may be stuck, but regional forums, expert networks and civil society initiatives can keep momentum alive. Even small steps like joint statements, scenario workshops or informal talks reduce the space for misunderstanding.

• 5. Shift the logic away from ambiguity.
  Strategic ambiguity has become a shield for bad behaviour. In orbit, ambiguity breeds mistrust. We need doctrines and agreements that reward openness and restraint, not secrecy.

• 6. Back it up with monitoring and practice.
  Develop independent ways to track suspicious activities. Run joint exercises to test crisis plans and communication channels. Habits hold under pressure better than slogans do. If we want the principle of “no nukes in space” to mean something in 2025, we must stop assuming it enforces itself. It never did.

Because We Still Haven’t Learned

The nuclear threat in space is more than a security issue—it’s a stress test for our institutions. Right now, the results are not encouraging. Rhetoric and secrecy are outpacing diplomacy and cooperation. The systems designed to uphold peace are proving shallow in the face of the tensions they must carry.

Dr. Strangelove ends with a series of mushroom clouds, set to Vera Lynn’s haunting refrain: “We’ll meet again.”

In orbit, there are no clouds. But the consequences could be just as final.

Let’s make sure that refrain doesn’t become the last message we send.

Because the real danger in Dr. Strangelove isn’t one rogue general pressing a button: it’s a room full of people failing to speak up until it’s too late.

---

Jessica West is a researcher and writer focused on space security and the messy intersection of technology, trust, and global peace. She works with Project Ploughshares and thinks a lot about what keeps us safe—and what doesn’t. To read more on this click here.