Almost half a century ago, when there was obviously no Internet and geopolitics revolved around the cold waran event occurred that set off alarm bells in society. In reality, that was the preamble to what would later be enhanced by the networks: using public material and information available to anyone to develop weapons. With one exception: it was in contention to build an atomic bomb in the storage room at home.
How to become a legend. Year 1977. An undistinguished student at Princeton University surprised the world entire (and the FBI) with an academic project that, under the revealing title of “How to Build Your Own Atomic Bomb,” detailed with chilling precision the steps necessary to make a functional nuclear weapon.
Its author, John Aristotle Phillipsa 21-year-old young man born in Connecticut, was the son of Greek immigrants and studied physics without standing out at all: he had repeated courses, almost failed, and was best known for your mascot costume football than for his academic achievements. His transformation into an internationally famous figure came hand in hand with an unexpected combination of obsession, stubbornness, the ability to seek out information, and the challenge of impressing a legendary professor.
The academic challenge. Phillips was faced with a final task proposed by the famous physicist Freeman Dysonwho taught at Princeton after having worked with figures such as Richard Feynman and Hans Bethe in some of the most complex projects of the 20th century, including the development of the atomic bomb within of the Manhattan Project.
Dyson had suggested that his students do a project on nuclear proliferation, and Phillips, aware of his lack of academic brilliance, wanted to stand out with a provocative proposal: recreate the design of a bomb similar to that of Nagasakiusing only public sources. Dyson, surprised by the audacity, humorously accepted the challenge, promising an outstanding grade if he achieved it, but also that he would burn the work after reading it.
An obsession. For weeks, Phillips worked tirelessly between the Princeton library and his room, collecting information from declassified documents from the National Technical Information Service, physics textbooks, government communications, and consultations with the Du Pont company on implosion principles.
Without using a single classified source, he managed to assemble a 40 page document where he explained step by step how to make a nuclear bomb. He handed in the work, got the highest grade and, far from being destroyed as Dyson had suggested, his project began to circulate by word of mouth until it reached the ears of professional physicists and the media.
A national celebrity. The dissemination of the work attracted the attention of experts such as Frank Chilton, a physicist specializing in nuclear engineering, who stated that Phillips’ design was technically feasibleexcept for access to plutonium, the only obstacle to its materialization.
The news broke out in the media: the boy with no academic future became forever in “The A-Bomb Kid”a media figure who symbolized both unexpected brilliance and the dangers of uncontrolled disclosure in the nuclear age. The fame reached a tipping point when several so-called Pakistani scientists approached Phillips offering money in exchange for the document. The FBI intervened immediately: confiscated the job and a model that the student had built, and classified the material as sensitive information.
The contradictory inheritance. Far from taking advantage of his sudden fame to continue in the academic or scientific world, Phillips published in 1979 with David Michaelis the book Mushroom: The True Story of the A-Bomb Kidwhere he narrated his experience and the journey of his unusual rise to fame. Over time, his awareness of the risks of nuclear proliferation led him to become an anti-nuclear activist, spending years warning about the ease with which certain knowledge could fall into the wrong hands.
In fact, and in a turn of events that no one expected, his career finally led to in politics: He ran as a Democratic candidate for the United States House of Representatives in 1980 and 1982, although without electoral success. The truth is that didn’t come back to media fame, but he did build a business career long and successful in the political technology sector. Died in 2020.
A warning in the middle of the “era”. The Philips story couldn’t be more relevant now that the world seems more convulsive than ever. In fact, the case of Aristotle set a precedent disturbing: a student without access to classified materials managed to design, using only public sources, a functional nuclear device.
In a global context where technological proliferation has only increased, its story continues to be used as an example in debates about information security, scientific education and the ethical limits of knowledge. Although he never physically built the bomb, his work demonstrated that danger does not always come from professional spies or enemy governments, but also from curious minds with plenty of time, access to libraries… and a typewriter.
Ironically, today none of the three keys are possibly needed.
A version of this article was published in April 2025
Image | RawPixel
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