40 I CHRONICLESngion is any sense of human frailty ornsinfulness. Missing, too, is any acknowledgmentnof man’s need for redemptivengrace. Like Prometheus,nwho stole fire from the gods with anfennel stock, Rabi wants to bring thenpowers of heaven within human grasp.n”Mankind is puny and feeble,” Rabindeclares, “as long as it is ignorant. It isnignorant in so far as it is self-limited byndogma, custom, and most of all bynfear, fear of the unknown.” In Rabi’snview, science gives mankind thenknowledge and power for breakingnthese limitations.nBut even Rabi expresses misgivingsnabout the “menacing” nuclear fire henand his colleagues did finally coercenout of the atom. Morally offended bynthe bombing of civilians even withnconventional weaponry, Rabi thinksnthat the destruction wrought upon Hiroshimanand Nagasaki was “terrible.”nThough he did not object to the atomicnbombings at the time, Rabi nownfeels that he shares “part of the blame,nlike every other American.” To hisncredit, Rabi did oppose the developmentnof the hydrogen bomb, arguingnthat there was a need for “some limitationnon the totality of war.” But, oncenstolen from celestial heights. Prometheannfire has a way of jumping thenterrestrial fire-breaks set to keep itnwithin bounds: The United States testednthe first H-bomb in Novembern1952.nIn another way, though, Rabi andnhis colleagues resemble not Prometheusnso much as the tower-builders describednin Genesis 11. Like Rabi, thenmen of Babel wanted to draw “closernto God” through the assiduous applicationnof their craft. In the end,nthough, modern scientists and ancientntower-builders share a similar fate.nRabi complains that “science seems tonbe no longer communicable to thengreat majority of educated laymen”nand that even physicists have grown sonnarrowly specialized that they cannbarely talk to each other. Looking backnover the last 30 years, Rabi lamentsnthat “there was a sharp drop-off ofninterest in physics among physicistsnother than for their own particularnspecialty. They became more andnmore specialized. … I felt thenchange was deplorable.” The Orthodoxnrabbis Rabi left behind as a boynwould not have been surprised: As thentower of modern science grows heavenward,nthe builders divide into babelingntribes. For all of the discoveriesnof Rabi and his colleagues, the newnscience has not displaced the wisdomnof our most ancient stories.nBryce Christensen is editor of ThenFamily in America.nSelling Outnby Michael WardernBreaking the Ring by John Barron,nBoston and New York: HoughtonnMifflin; $17.95.n”Sed quis custodiet ipsos Custodes?”n—JuvenalnOn November 29, 1984, an FBI agentnin Massachusetts took extensive notesnfrom a long conversation with an alcoholicnwoman about the alleged Sovietnspy activities of her former husband,nJohn Walker. Barbara Walker initiatednthe meeting with a phone call onnNovember 17. Her story was filed andnforgotten. On January 24 Laura Walker,nthe Walkers’ daughter, called thenFBI office in Boston to ask why nonaction had been taken. The phone callnwas logged, and it too was buried.nFinally, in February, a Boston FBInagent, making a routine three-monthnfile review, noticed the initial report ofnBarbara Walker and sent reports tonWashington, DC, and to Norfolk, Virginia,nwhere John Walker lived. ThenFBI office in Washington, DC, buriednthe report. Fortunately, Joseph R.nWolfinger, director of FBI operationsnin Norfolk, saw the notice and set innmotion the plan which led to the Mayn21, 1985, arrest of perhaps the mostneffective spy operation since the theftnof the Anglo-American blueprints fornthe atomic bomb.nBreaking the King by John Barron isnan easy-to-read story about the Walkernfamily spy ring, how it was exposed,nand its significance to the nationalnsecurity of the United States. With thenadvent of smiling Mike Gorbachev’snpolicy oi glasnost and the nine-monthnpolitical orgy of the Iran/Contra hearings,nit is difficult to recall the intensenconcern America had over Soviet spyingnjust a short time ago. In 1984-85nnnthe U.S. successfully prosecuted 16nspies—eight times the number in then10-year period between 1966-75. InnMarch of 1986 the United States demandednthe removal of 105 Sovietndiplomats at the UN in a phased withdrawalnending in April of 1988. ThenU.S. also shrank the number of Sovietndiplomats to the U.S. from 325 ton251—the same as the U.S. had innMoscow. In October of 1986 the Sovietsnpulled out their 261 “workers” fromnthe U.S. embassy in Moscow.nNone of this has really made ansignificant change. Among the 2,100nSoviet bloc officials living in the U.S.,nabout 1,000 are estimated to benspies—of course, many of the rest arensuborned. These figures do not includenspouses. The United States hasnabout 300 to 400 FBI agents to tracknthem.nIn addition to their greater resources,nthe Soviet Union makes publicnheroes of their spies. RichardnSorge, a Soviet WWII spy, has hisnown postage stamp. Rudolph Abel, anSoviet spy in the 1950’s, later tradednfor U-2 pilot Gary Powers, receivednthe Order of Lenin. In the Americannculture, working for the CIA or thenFBI borders on the disreputable at ournmajor universities and perhaps even innthe U.S. Congress. These are some ofnthe reasons that explain why JohnnWalker, a particularly venal mercenary,ncould operate for 18 years andnwas only caught when his former wifencame forward.nDid Walker give away importantnsecrets? All too often we read of Americansnwho have given away secrets tonthe Soviets for $3,000. In a nine-yearnperiod from 1975-84, John Walkerngave his accomplice Jerry Whitworthn50 percent of the take, $332,000. Thatnshould tell us something about thenvalue of the information.nAfter Walker, his brother Arthur,nhis son Michael, and Whitworth werenapprehended, a story ran in the NewnYork Times quoting government officialsnto the effect that what Walker gotnwas “serious” but “not catastrophic.”nSenator David F. Durenberger, chairmannof the Senate Intelligence Committee,nsaid that “it wasn’t of suchnsignificance that there’s any kind ofnalarm.” Would that it were so. JamesnAlsup, a communications expert fromnthe Judge Advocate General’s Corps,n