The misconception about Putin’s big red nuclear button

There is a common misconception that the leaders of nuclear states have a 'red button' that can unleash Armageddon. As Vladimir Putin continues to hint at the use of non-strategic ('tactical') nuclear weapons in Ukraine, there is some comfort in the knowledge that it is not so easy.

Ironically, launching the kind of strategic nuclear missiles whose use would likely spiral into global destruction is somewhat easier than deploying the smaller weapons which – however vastly unlikely – could conceivably be used in Ukraine. These lower-yield warheads would need to be reconditioned in one of the 12 'Object S' arsenals across Russia holding them, and then transported to one of 34 'base-level storage depots'. From there they would need to be loaded onto a bomber or mated onto a suitable other delivery system.

Given that Russia has not even used them since 1990, no one knows for sure what state they would be in, and likely no one still in service has any practical experience. There would presumably be a group of wary engineers gingerly thumbing their way through faded instruction manuals long before Putin could even give a fire order.

If he ever did, though, the process is mercifully much more complex that simply mashing a button in a moment of pique. Like his US counterpart, Putin is accompanied everywhere by an aide carrying the 'nuclear briefcase'. Called the Cheget, this actually contains special communications gear that is used to issue and authenticate the president's orders relating to a nuclear launch.

The defence minister and chief of the general staff have their own Chegets, which connect to the Kazbek nuclear command and control network. Were Putin so minded, his aide would activate his Cheget, and he would issue an encrypted launch command, which would be transmitted to them. Although there are protocols to deal with the theoretical possibility that both were out of action, such as if there had already been some decapitating strike against the High Command, generally at least one of the other two would need to validate the command.

Then, the approved order goes to the General Staff, which issues authorisation codes and targeting details. This would usually happen through the Strategic Rocket Forces' command bunker at Kuntsevo, west of Moscow, or else the backup one at Kosvirsky in the Ural Mountains. 

Again, in extremis, the command staff in the bunkers could launch without the command codes, had the General Staff also been eliminated. Backup sets of launch codes are kept in each bunker, along with a special sledgehammer made precisely to be able to break into their highly-secure safes. Either way, only then would the targeting details and authorisations be transmitted by encrypted digital links to whichever unit was actually meant to launch the attack, whether the crew of a bomber, submarine or missile silo, or the gunners of a 203mm 2S3 Pion field artillery piece capable of firing a nuclear shell.

This may all sound rather cumbersome. It is, and deliberately so, both to make absolutely sure that any commands really have come from the president, and to introduce some friction and delay into the process. After all, if the political and military leadership have all been taken out, there is still something called the Perimeter system, a 'dead hand' backup system that allows the General Staff to launch land-based missiles directly in case of confirmed enemy attack.

What this also means is that were Putin somehow to go full Dr Strangelove, there are many other human beings in the chain of command. The defence minister and chief of the general staff could refuse to authenticate the order. However, they might authenticate it, or Putin could appeal directly to the General Staff. Nevertheless, while he may have the legal authority to launch nuclear weapons, the officers in question may cavil, delay or consider whether his decision conforms to official doctrine. This, after all, sees their use strictly reserved for cases where the Motherland is under direct, existential threat.

Of course, this could be considered mutiny, even treason, and the consequences could be serious. But so too are the likely outcomes of breaking the nuclear taboo. We do not know whether anyone would be willing to refuse such an order – but nor does Putin. One of the secrets of command is never to give an order likely to be disobeyed. For Putin, it would be the beginning of the end, and he must know it.

However brutal Putin's regime may be, this is not Stalinism. Although the Federal Security Service's Military Counterintelligence Directorate is more concerned with watching the generals than hunting foreign spies, there are no hard-eyed political commissars waiting to put a bullet in the back of any officer's head who disobeys an order. And that should be a comfort in these uncomfortable times.