Opinion | America Is Updating Its Nuclear Weapons. The Price: $1.7 Trillion.

General Dynamics Electric Boat may face a labor shortage, but you wouldn’t know it standing inside one of the company’s football-field-size warehouses along Narragansett Bay in Rhode Island.

On a morning in September, roughly 2,000 employees were at work across the sprawling complex, moving among mammoth machinery and the hulls of several submarines sliced into segments like giant sushi rolls. “What you’re seeing is the future of American naval power,” Rear Adm. Todd Weeks, who oversees strategic submarine construction for the U.S. Navy, shouted above the din.

At 560 feet long and 43 feet in diameter, the Columbia-class submarines under construction at the site will be the largest America has ever built when the first boat enters service this decade. They are also the most expensive, at an average of $11 billion per boat. Engineering a nuclear submarine is widely considered to be more challenging than building a spacecraft: The sub needs to carry more than 100 people to crushing ocean depths, along with the nuclear reactor that powers it, and be capable of launching its nuclear-tipped missiles to any location on the planet. Every cut, every weld, every rivet matters.

On the factory floor, it is plain to see the dream of nuclear disarmament, once shared by Republican and Democratic presidents alike, is dead. Or, at the very least, on life support. Not so long ago, the consensus among global leaders was that the world needed fewer nukes and means to deliver them, not more. America’s nuclear portfolio was deprioritized after 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed. After spending trillions of dollars over decades, Washington cut back on nearly everything nuclear-related. The prongs of the American military’s so-called triad — nuclear-weapon-carrying submarines, jets and intercontinental ballistic missiles — were maintained, rather than replaced, for years beyond their intended use.

Nuclear ballistic missile submarines — known as boomers by sailors — are arguably the most important part of that ecosystem. They are America’s guarantee that the military can strike back in the event of the country incurring a first attack, even if an adversary manages to turn Washington into radioactive ash. They are constantly deployed around the world, are virtually undetectable under the water and can carry up to 20 long-range missiles loaded with several nuclear warheads apiece.

The 14 boomers now at sea are about 40 years old, on average — ancient in submarine years. The aging boats come with a host of liabilities, including higher maintenance costs and onboard technology that predates the personal computer revolution. With China operating the world’s largest, newest naval force (234 warships to America’s 219), the U.S. Navy says new submarines can’t be produced fast enough. Once U.S. production hits its stride, the plan is to build one boomer and two attack submarines a year. To make that happen, the Quonset Point factory has added six buildings, doubling its floor space, from one million square feet to two million square feet, over the past 10 years.

But four years in, the first boat is hundreds of millions of dollars over budget because of a combination of supply chain issues, design problems and nagging labor shortages. Recent analysis from the Government Accountability Office, the congressional watchdog, calculated cost overruns that are more than six times the company’s estimates.

When the Cold War ended, the demand for subs dropped, and the pipeline of trade specialists trained to work on these highly specialized boats did, too. General Dynamics Electric Boat’s work force sank from around 22,000 to 7,000. The Navy now estimates it needs at least 100,000 new workers to join defense companies to meet production demands.

Though the new Columbia-class subs are primarily being built in Rhode Island, Connecticut and Virginia, the Navy is going to tremendous lengths to recruit talent across the country. Over the past year, a blitz of ads has appeared at various sports events — including major league baseball games, WNBA games and even atop a NASCAR hood — steering fans to buildsubmarines.com. The website connects job seekers with hiring defense contractors as part of a nearly $1 billion campaign. Some of that money will go toward helping restore the network of companies that can supply the more than three million parts that go into a Columbia sub. Like so much of the nation’s nuclear infrastructure, those supplier numbers have plummeted since the 1990s.

Arms control advocates argue that the U.S. industrial buildup risks igniting another arms race. But to hear Admiral Weeks tell it, the Navy is well beyond such hand-wringing, thanks in part to Russia and China: “As we see the world today, that dip that we had in the late 1990s, early 2000s — we don’t see that happening again.”

Any passing driver can watch the construction on the industrial park along Bear Creek Road in Oak Ridge, a city in the far eastern corner of Tennessee. Crowds of laborers move among four unfinished buildings, heavy machinery growling at the edges. It looks like any other work site, until you notice the tiers of razor wire, patrols of armed guards around the perimeter and the peculiar fact that none of the structures have any windows.

This construction site, for the Y-12 National Security Complex, is the top-secret centerpiece of America’s plans to rebuild the nation’s nuclear bomb-making complex. When the $10 billion overhaul is done, the revamped site will be solely responsible for processing the highly enriched uranium used in U.S. weapons into the next century. But if you keep driving down the road, it feels as though you’re moving back in time. Row after row of aging brick buildings are scattered across Y-12’s campus, many containing hazardous waste that dates back decades.

After World War II and the start of the Cold War arms race, manufacturing uranium components for nuclear weapons became the site’s defining mission. Every nuclear weapon in America’s current arsenal of 3,748 nuclear bombs and warheads contains uranium from Y-12.

The Energy Department, which oversees the nuclear stockpile, went through an extensive retrenchment after the U.S.S.R. collapsed, much like the military. The overall number of weapons was cut. The budgets of the labs that designed the weapons were cut. The skilled work force that manufactured and assembled them was cut. The facilities where this work took place, full of modern equipment during the Cold War, were never updated.

Few, if any, sites embody this neglect better than Y-12. Despite all the technological advancements that have unfolded outside Y-12’s barbed wire fences over the past 80 years, America’s nuclear arsenal is still largely put together there by hand, like a Ferrari engine, using machines created decades before their operators were born.

Signs of decay and decrepitude are everywhere. Eric Helms, the deputy director of enriched uranium operations, who has worked at Y-12 for 23 years, leads me through a labyrinth inside the complex of narrow hallways in Building 9212, where workers stand in coveralls. Strips of the ceiling hang overhead like ribbons. Sections of pipe that jut from the hulking machinery are wrapped with duct tape, and paint on the steel doors and walls has chipped away, exposing layers of green, brown and cream underneath. “That’s where we painted over contamination spills,” he says. “Stripping the paint would just create a bigger problem.”

Large areas of the floors have also been painted over or feature a patchwork of stainless steel sheeting to cover contaminated concrete below. On the day I visit, the internal 1950s-era vacuum system has been broken for more than a week, so workers can’t suck away scraps of uranium that fell around the furnaces. Mr. Helms says it’s a nagging problem. “We’re looking forward to moving into the new facility,” he says.

Today Y-12 is under the control of the National Nuclear Security Administration, a quasi-independent arm of the Energy Department. Once the new facility is up and running, it will process uranium not only for nuclear weapons but also for the nuclear reactors aboard U.S. Navy ships and nuclear research reactors. Much of the radioactive material will be shipped by truck to the National Nuclear Security Administration’s Pantex plant in Texas, where it will be assembled into different types of nuclear warheads. The surplus will be held in an onsite storage vault nicknamed the Fort Knox of uranium.

For that, Mr. Helms and the rest of the staff will have to wait. Six years into its renovation, construction at Y-12 is years behind schedule and around $4 billion over budget because of a combination of supply chain hiccups and unforced errors. (At one point, a contractor mistakenly designed the roof 13 feet lower than it needed to be in the new uranium-processing building, costing $540 million alone.)

Because of the repeated delays, the earliest that Mr. Helms and his team can move into the new facilities is 2031.

Unlike most of the U.S. military’s weapons systems, America’s intercontinental ballistic missiles, which ferry nuclear warheads to their target, aren’t kept on military bases or in warehouses. Currently, 400 Minuteman III missiles are buried 80 feet underground in people’s backyards — or, more specifically, their farm fields — in Wyoming, Nebraska, Colorado, Montana and North Dakota.

For decades, these aging missile systems have been on 24-hour alert, ready to obliterate almost any spot on Earth using the best technology available in the 1970s, when they were installed. The Air Force, which is in charge of the land-based missiles, has been maintaining the missiles for half a century.

Now the entire system is set to be replaced. Changing out the missiles, silos, command hubs and roughly 7,500 miles of underground cables snaking under the property of thousands of landowners will be one of the most expensive projects in military history, rivaled only in scale and technical complexity by the operation to build the Interstate System of highways.

For the past two years, representatives of the Air Force have fanned out across the northern Great Plains to talk to residents about the plans. Construction crews have begun work on support buildings at F.E. Warren Air Force Base in Wyoming. The hope is to open new silos through the next two decades — but the project could go well beyond that, given the current delays — and steadily bring the Sentinel system online while maintaining the old Minuteman III system until it’s fully replaced. Up to 3,000 laborers will descend on dozens of small towns to live in temporary camps, potentially doubling or tripling the local populations for however long they need to be there.

The Air Force does not yet know how or where the workers will be housed, which is a concern for some people living in these missile-hosting towns, many of which have only one or two law enforcement officers. Robin Darnall, a commissioner for Banner County in western Nebraska, says she’s focused on how to balance the influx of workers along with the safety of farming and ranching families, whose forebears, in some cases, arrived there in homesteading days. “I feel like we need to increase our law enforcement in Banner County for this project,” she says. “Our sheriff can’t do that all and satisfy his current responsibilities.”

When the Air Force installed missiles there in the 1960s, locals enthusiastically embraced the idea of providing a home to a critical national security project aimed at defeating the Soviets. The arms race was on, after all. But today, like in most of America, the grave threat of nuclear war barely registers to many residents of the heartland, even if classified work is happening beneath the communities they live in.

In the Great Plains, too, things are taking longer than they should. The missile modernization program, called LGM-35A Sentinel, was first estimated to cost about $96 billion in 2020, when the defense company Northrop Grumman won the initial contract to build the system. The price tag has since skyrocketed, with current costs pegged at around $141 billion, a cost increase so severe that it triggered the Nunn-McCurdy Act, which requires the Pentagon and Congress to evaluate whether to cancel troubled programs. The government is reviewing the details but has already decided to move forward with building the new missiles.

Walter Schweitzer passes a missile silo almost every day on his way to work as president of the Montana Farmers Union. He and his members are military supporters but are increasingly concerned with the lack of information provided by the Air Force. Another point of contention involves restrictions around the silos, such as forbidding wind farms within a two-mile radius. “Unless you’re prepared to reimburse property owners the loss of their rights, then the farmers’ union can’t support that,” Mr. Schweitzer says. “No way. No how.”

Outside the lab, the scenic town of Los Alamos, N.M., is being renovated with all manner of construction projects to accommodate the new arrivals. Inside the lab, technicians and scientists are busily melting, refining and shaping plutonium into grapefruit-size cores that trigger the explosions in nuclear bombs.

Manufacturing plutonium pits, which is what the nuclear industry calls them, can be a messy and dangerous business. The radioactive metal has to be shaped into hollow spheres. Workers do this by handling it with rubber gloves inside workstations called glove boxes. It takes skill and nearly a year of training to become comfortable working with such perilous material. A tiny shaving of plutonium can kill a person if it is inhaled. Accounting for every bit of it is crucial.

In 2018, Congress directed Los Alamos, which is overseen by the National Nuclear Security Administration, to produce 30 plutonium pits a year by 2026. The agency plans to manufacture an additional 50 pits a year at a larger facility in Savannah River, S.C. The pits will go into the warheads that are affixed to the new Sentinel missiles.

Some progress is being made: On Oct. 1, Los Alamos produced the first pit certified to enter the war reserve. But meeting the full production mark won’t happen until the mid-2030s, at the earliest, the National Nuclear Security Administration says, as the cost estimate has climbed to more than $28 billion. The upside is the delays won’t hurt as much because everything is behind schedule, including the missiles.

The last time the United States was mass-producing plutonium pits, it didn’t go well. The Rocky Flats production site in Colorado was the last place to do it. In 1989 the facility, overseen by the Energy Department, was raided by the F.B.I. and Environmental Protection Agency and later shut down after rampant environmental violations were discovered. It was a rare episode in U.S. history in which one federal agency raided another.

The output at Rocky Flats, which at one point during the Cold War hit 1,000 pits per year, dwarfs the modern ambitions of Los Alamos. Still, the new production is expected to generate levels of radiological and hazardous waste that the lab has not experienced. This comes on top of the contamination already present, which the government estimates will cost some $7 billion to clean up. “We’re endangering our community for an unnecessary arms race that puts us all at risk,” says Jay Coghlan, the executive director of Nuclear Watch New Mexico, a Santa Fe-based watchdog.

Environmental contamination isn’t the only concern that Los Alamos’s neighbors have. The Los Alamos County Council recently passed a $377 million budget for fiscal year 2025 — an eye-popping sum for a population of just 19,400. County officials say their primary focus is housing and amenities. The lab hired 4,000 employees over the past two years, and it’s been a struggle to find homes for them all. A recent study found they have a housing shortfall of at least 1,300 units, which county officials attribute largely to the lab expansion.

Los Alamos’s strategic location, nestled between canyons, poses a vexing challenge. The limited space creates transportation problems in and out of the town, which has led to a spate of auto accidents, including one in September in which a former lab director, Charles McMillan, was killed. To alleviate traffic, money is also going into infrastructure improvements and an expansion of the Atomic City Transit system.

“Our whole community has changed with this new bomb factory,” says Greg Mello, the executive director at the Los Alamos Study Group, a nonprofit watchdog that is critical of the nuclear weapons complex’s expansion. “There’s no telling where it will end.”

Last century, the world watched in horror as the number of nuclear weapons around the globe rocketed from approximately 3,000 warheads in 1955 to more than 70,000 by the late 1980s. It took time for nuclear nations to grasp the mutual vulnerability, the financial investment and general insanity of the arms race. Cooler heads prevailed. International treaties were signed. Now there are an estimated 12,000 nuclear weapons in the world.

All of the progress meticulously made over the past 40 years is now at risk. Agreements are being abandoned rather than forged. The future of arms control appears bleak. The United States is considering increasing the number of weapons in its arsenal — not just replacing the old ones — after the New Start Treaty with Russia expires in February 2026. If such a decision is made, foreign adversaries will certainly follow suit.

After all, decisions about an arsenal in one nation trigger rethinking among them all. Since the United States first took concrete steps toward rebuilding its weapons in 2010, the eight other nuclear-armed nations are believed to have expanded or enhanced theirs. Russia has overhauled its nuclear arsenal. China is on track to double the number of its nuclear warheads by the decade’s end and may continue building, according to U.S. intelligence estimates.

It is undeniably true that the world is becoming more contentious, and nuclear weapons do deter our adversaries. But it’s also true that our children will inherit this — the nationwide nuclear complex revitalization, the astronomical bill, the potential for confrontation. Congress decided that America needed new weapons when it first allocated funding to their replacement more than a decade ago. But it’s clear, after I visited these places, that the American people have not. Even in communities where this work is happening, there is too little awareness about what’s occurring, let alone in the rest of the country.

Our next president will have to decide whether America needs these new weapons. Americans deserve to know more about the candidates’ views, how our money is being spent and what’s at stake. After all, the weapons under development using taxpayer dollars are expected to be with us well into the next century. And if any one of them were ever used, it would fundamentally change the course of human history.

So should Americans brace for another arms race? Another Cold War? To put it in perspective: The Manhattan Project cost about $30 billion, adjusted for inflation, over the course of World War II. The United States is on pace to spend nearly double that amount each year for at least 30 years. It’s time to reflect on whether we are on a path toward a brighter future or headed back to a darker past.