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The existential risks posed by nuclear weapons have long been framed in terms of blast effects, radiation, and nuclear winter. Yet a lesser-known but equally catastrophic threat lies in electromagnetic pulse (EMP) weapons—a topic explored in a recent Project Save the World forum between historian William Forstchen and peace activist John Hallam.
Their conversation underscores how EMPs, whether from deliberate attacks or natural solar storms, could collapse critical infrastructure, triggering societal disintegration.
EMP weapons exploit the physics of nuclear detonations in space. When a nuclear warhead, optimized for gamma-ray production, is detonated at high altitude (200–400 km), gamma rays interact with the upper atmosphere. This interaction strips electrons from air molecules via the Compton Effect, creating a cascading surge of charged particles. These particles spiral along Earth’s magnetic field lines, inducing massive electrical currents in conductive materials—power grids, telecommunications networks, and unshielded electronics. The result is instantaneous and irreversible damage to transformers, microchips, and control systems.
As Forstchen notes, a single 40–60 kiloton warhead detonated above Chicago could blanket the continental U.S. in an EMP field, incapacitating critical infrastructure within seconds. Unlike traditional nuclear strikes, which target cities, EMP attacks prioritize the annihilation of systems underpinning modern life: electricity, water, food distribution, and digital finance.
Hallam emphasizes that even a small nuclear arsenal (5–7 warheads) could achieve this globally, bypassing the need for mutually assured destruction (MAD) paradigms.
The immediate aftermath of an EMP attack would resemble a sudden blackout—but with no prospect of recovery. Power grids, dependent on fragile high-voltage transformers (which take years to manufacture), would fail catastrophically. Water pumping stations, sewage treatment plants, and refrigeration systems would cease functioning. Food supplies would spoil within days; pharmacies would exhaust insulin and antibiotics. Hospitals, reliant on electricity, would revert to pre-industrial conditions.
Within weeks, societal breakdown would accelerate. As Hallam explains, the collapse of digital banking and supply-chain tracking systems would paralyze commerce. Cashless economies would disintegrate, while fuel shortages would immobilize transportation. Law enforcement and emergency services, unable to coordinate, would cede control to localized chaos. Disease outbreaks, fueled by contaminated water and decaying waste, would compound mortality.
Forstchen estimates that 80–90% of the population in affected regions could perish within a year—a figure extrapolated from U.S. congressional studies on EMP vulnerabilities.
The 1859 Carrington Event, a solar storm that ignited telegraph wires, serves as a natural analog. A comparable solar EMP today would dwarf its historical impact. Modern infrastructure, built around semiconductor-based electronics, lacks the robustness of 19th-century systems.
Yet despite this vulnerability, neither governments nor the private sector have prioritized EMP shielding. Shielding, as Hallam notes, is technically simple (using Faraday cages and grounded metal enclosures) but economically neglected.
The military implications are equally dire. Forstchen and Hallam concur that major nuclear powers (the U.S., Russia, China, and North Korea) have likely integrated EMP strikes into war plans. A high-altitude detonation over the South China Sea, for instance, could disable naval fleets and regional grids, offering a strategic advantage without radioactive fallout. For rogue states or non-state actors, EMPs present an asymmetric tool: a single warhead could achieve disproportionate chaos.
Both speakers critique the nuclear disarmament community for sidelining EMP risks in favor of focusing on nuclear winter and direct blast effects. Hallam attributes this to misconceptions that EMP advocacy is dominated by “right-wing lunatics” exaggerating threats for militaristic ends. Yet the physics of EMP is apolitical—a reality that demands urgent dialogue.
The reluctance to address EMPs reflects a broader failure to confront the fragility of interconnected systems. Modern civilization’s reliance on just-in-time logistics, digital automation, and centralized utilities creates single points of failure. Even activists committed to peace often overlook how technological dependencies amplify vulnerabilities.
The solutions are as technical as they are political. Hardening infrastructure—retrofitting transformers with surge protectors, shielding control systems, and decentralizing energy grids—could mitigate EMP impacts. International treaties banning high-altitude nuclear tests or space-based weapons, akin to the 1967 Outer Space Treaty, are equally critical.
Yet progress is stymied by complacency and short-term economics. The cost of grid hardening (estimated at $20–30 billion in the U.S.) pales against the potential losses from a continental blackout ($2–7 trillion annually). Similarly, diplomatic efforts to curb EMP-capable arsenals remain stagnant, overshadowed by great-power rivalries.
The dialogue between Forstchen and Hallam is a sobering reminder that technological advancement has outpaced societal resilience. EMP weapons exploit the very systems that define modernity, offering a blueprint for civilizational collapse that requires neither large arsenals nor radioactive contamination.
Addressing this threat demands a paradigm shift—from nationalistic campaigns to engineering safeguards, from geopolitical posturing to cooperative security. The alternative, as Hallam starkly warns, is a world where “nothing works,” and the collapse of order is measured in days, not decades.
In an era of rising nuclear tensions and climate-driven instability, EMPs represent not just a military risk but a test of humanity’s capacity to safeguard its future.