The Value of the Moon

by Paul D. Spudis

  8

  If Not Now, When? If Not Us, Who?

  A widespread misconception about the nature and meaning of the Apollo program has greatly contributed to our inability to establish a long-term strategic direction for our civil space program. Essentially, Apollo was a Cold War battle between the United States and the Soviet Union. Once that presidential goal had been achieved and victory declared, we moved on, since you don’t keep fighting a battle that you’ve already won. The norm for America’s relationship with the Moon has been on-again, off-again ever since. We raced to the Moon with wild abandon and then left with equal, if not greater, haste. After achieving one of the greatest national technological challenges since the atomic bomb, America departed the Moon with dispatch. The damage caused by misreading the true significance of Apollo is palpable.

  Apollo’s success dramatically and unquestionably demonstrated that human spaceflight into the solar system is possible, a knowledge permanently engraved in the minds and on the hearts of so many in the space community. Those who made Apollo possible view that era as a lost “golden age” of space exploration, with the ensuing years reduced to the prosaic and mundane tasks of satellite servicing and educational, zero-gravity demonstrations. Ironically, the success of Apollo has contributed to our multidecadal inability to move forward; it has become the crippling, carved-in-stone standard that continues to influence current thinking about our civil space program. Witness the approach of our recent lunar return efforts: Each one followed the well-trod path wherein we devised and planned an Apollo-like program, then, taking our cue from previous efforts, promptly retreated when stacks of cash magically failed to appear on schedule.

  It is possible that what’s missing in our debate over a return to the Moon is the benefit of a clear-eyed historical perspective, one unique to America. There is no perfect analogy to the space program, but several past events in our nation’s history suggest that some general inferences may be drawn. By examining some historical resonances of spaceflight and attempting to draw conclusions about its proper place and significance, perhaps we can discern a more productive, less disruptive path toward space capability.

  Lunar Return in Historical Perspective

  The United States has undertaken many large-scale, collective projects over the course of its 240-year history, but none more mythologized than the effort to put a man on the Moon ahead of the Soviet Union in the 1960s. The Apollo program has all of the appeal of great drama: A charismatic, martyred president issues a grand and seemingly near-impossible challenge to the nation, one eagerly grasped and accomplished by a can-do country, proving once and for all that the good guys win in the end. It is remarkable how this caricature is so widely accepted. In fact, President Kennedy was a reluctant spacefarer who undertook the race to the Moon only as a way to distract public attention from the less-than-stellar beginning of his first term. Kennedy had ardently asked advisors to come up with some other technical contest, something with a practical benefit that could win over friends and allies in developing nations. The desalination of seawater was his personal favorite.1

  But space was making headlines in the late 1950s and early 1960s. At the time of Kennedy’s declaration in May 1961, it was widely perceived that we were behind the Soviets, not only in space but also in nuclear capability. This was a case where perceptions were more important than reality. It did not matter that the Soviets were woefully behind in the production of missiles that could actually deliver a warhead. They had already humiliated the new president twice, once by thwarting his sponsored invasion of Cuba, at the Bay of Pigs, and then again with the flight of Yuri Gagarin, the first man to orbit the Earth. America was behind in the Cold War and behind in space. Something needed to be done. What followed held momentous consequences for both Cold War rivals, and by extension, all nations.

  Apollo was a special product, one of its own time and space; it does not fit into any current recognizable category of circumstances surrounding the creation of a large-scale federal engineering project. But that does not mean that a return to the Moon today is not feasible. Traditionally, such projects are undertaken for economic and/or security concerns. Both motivations are applicable to the problem of lunar return, and as such, answer both of these compelling national needs.

  At the time of the 1849 California gold rush, there were only two ways to get to the goldfields. One was a long and tedious sea voyage from the East Coast to San Francisco, with the choice of taking the long route around the tip of South America or traversing the malarial swamps of Panama for a ship transfer midway through the voyage. The other was a hazardous, months-long crawl across the continent through the wilderness of the American interior. The need for a railroad to connect the nation together was a pressing concern. Several visionaries advocated for the construction of a transcontinental railroad to connect California with the rail systems of the east. After a long study and critical review of several routes, a path was selected and its construction was approved by the Congress and signed into law by President Abraham Lincoln. The Pacific Railroad Act of 1862 provided financial incentives and land grants by the federal government for each segment of rail built along the approved route. The Union Pacific and Central Pacific railroads started building inward from their termini (Omaha and Sacramento, respectively) and converged at Promontory Point, Utah, in 1869. The teams symbolized the linking together of the nation by the transcontinental railroad with the hammering of a final golden spike. Now both coasts were accessible, and the continental interior was open to migration, development, and settlement.

  Some believe that such an approach is a possible model for the development of space. In place of a government-run space program, government provides a series of incentives and grants whereby private companies are induced to create the necessary spacefaring infrastructure that will see an economic expansion similar to that brought about 150 years earlier by the building of the transcontinental railroad. This analogy is not perfectly aligned with historical realities; in the 1860s, an extensive rail transportation infrastructure already existed, largely capitalized by the private sector. Comparable assets for spaceflight consist of commercial launch suppliers, but they are both less extensive and have narrower and smaller markets in the field of space than did the railroads of the nineteenth century in the field of passenger and cargo transport. Because spaceflight is more difficult and more dangerous than rail travel, the overall volume of traffic—and thus revenue—is much lower, which depresses capital investment. New Space advocates sometimes cite the US Post Office’s airmail service of the 1920s as a good business model. Although the Post Office contracted with private air companies to carry the mail, in this case, a large market (the US Mail) already existed—what was being purchased was faster delivery. That commodity is not nearly as desirable in the field of spaceflight, where timeliness is less critical than assured delivery and reliability.

  One historical parallel does compare closely to an ambitious space goal in terms of resources needed: the development of the atomic bomb.2 The largest technological-scientific effort ever undertaken, the Manhattan Project engaged some of the finest scientific and engineering minds in the country. Billions of dollars were spent developing a deliverable bomb, whose feasibility was uncertain when work began. The driving imperative was national survival, always a guarantee for continued funding. The concern was that Germany was actively working on atomic weapons, a supposition later found to be incorrect. In any event, the Manhattan Project was the largest, most difficult technical project ever attempted. Its success led to the idea that government-funded research in science and technology could serve national aims, a lesson subsequently applied to the waging of the Cold War, of which Apollo was one part. The 50-year struggle against the Soviet Union led to the creation of a science-technology industrial sector upon which we drew heavily during the Apollo program. The systematic dismantling of that sector in the 1990s after the fall of the Soviet Union means that techno-industrial base is gone, ma
king progress in space more difficult to achieve today.

  Various large-scale construction projects, completed over the years, offer useful lessons in undertaking future national engineering efforts. The United States took over French efforts to build the Panama Canal in 1904, completing it a decade later in 1914. Both engineering expertise and capital investment were judiciously applied to the problems posed by the canal, which revolutionized seafaring and world trade. Noted at the time was the significant national security aspect of canal building; the Panama Canal enabled the United States Navy to easily move ships between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans, creating a responsive force multiplier that turned out to be critical during two world wars. The Interstate Highway System, proposed by President Dwight D. Eisenhower and inspired by the German Autobahn, created a new automobile-based national transportation infrastructure. Its ostensible purpose was to provide a network of roads to serve the needs of national defense, but in addition, its creation has been responsible for expanding national economic activity by trillions of dollars. Thus, large-scale government programs enabled us to move farther afield, to generate wealth and prosperity, and to secure our national defense.

  In past efforts, the federal government has led where the private sector has been unable or unwilling. Because spaceflight is inherently a difficult undertaking, one requiring billions of dollars in capital investment, private spaceflight, to date, has focused primarily on the existing satellite launch market. But unlike early aviation, there is no preexisting “air post” service market driving the development of a new private transportation sector. Much hope is currently invested in the envisioned but unfulfilled potential of space tourism as an emerging market. Despite cash awards and other incentives, substantial private human spaceflight remains, for the most part, cost- and market-prohibitive. Potential possibilities for space commerce have been identified in the communications, energy and construction sectors. What is missing is the ability to move cargo and people routinely throughout cislunar space.

  The rationale for space development articulated in 2006 by former Presidential Science Advisor John Marburger calls for space to become part of our economic sphere.3 In part, we have already started to reach that goal, as evidenced by existing commercial markets for satellite communications and remote sensing data. Due to degradation, space assets that reside in orbits above LEO need periodic replacement, along with an occasional upgrade in technical capability. If we could reach these high geosynchronous orbits, satellites could be serviced and maintained. Additionally, we could assemble large distributed systems in GEO using people and robots working together. This approach was documented to be of great value during the 30-year history of the space shuttle program, when astronauts serviced and maintained satellites like the Hubble Space Telescope and built the International Space Station from small modules fabricated and launched separately.

  A permanent presence in cislunar space serves many national economic goals. But how is this best achieved? What are the roles of government and the private sector in the development of space? Most important, how can we devise a civil space program that serves the most needs, in the most efficient manner?

  The Geopolitical Value of the Moon and Cislunar Space

  Modern power projection is possible only through the deployment and use of space-based assets. Air, land, and sea forces all depend on satellites for communications, navigation, and intelligence. Without them, our ability to make our way about in the world would be severely compromised. Satellites are physically very vulnerable. One need not collide with one to disable it—snapping an antenna or cutting a cable to its solar array can turn a billion-dollar satellite into a worthless piece of orbiting space debris. It is essential to protect our national satellite assets, both to safeguard our investment and, more importantly, to assure that they will function at a moment’s notice.

  Some in the New Space community take a libertarian view of space development. They suppose that government—in the form of NASA, the agency given responsibility for civil spaceflight—is an impediment that creates more problems than solutions. However, a clearly defined constitutional role of the federal government is to provide for the common defense; this includes maintaining the territorial integrity of the United States and the protection of legal and economic interests of American citizens abroad. As more American commercial entities venture into the zones beyond low Earth orbit, their activities and interests become part of the defense obligations of the US government. Thus, it is not merely appropriate but essential that the federal government maintains a visible profile and role in cislunar space.

  Government activities in space should consist of those actions designed to protect American interests. This protection requires the projection of national power as needed and appropriate, as well as the establishment of a legal environment whereby individual and corporate rights and obligations are observed and defended. Such a portfolio of activities requires the physical presence of government. If the government is not present in such a theater, how can it enforce its regulatory and legal decisions? One possibility is through asset seizure on Earth, but such a technique will only stifle, not encourage, space development. Just as the US Navy defends freedom of the seas and the commerce of all nations, an American presence in cislunar space will likewise defend and assure freedom of access and commerce there.

  The American civil space program was originally established to conduct research into the techniques and possible beneficial uses of spaceflight. That mandate is declared in the Space Act of 1958, subsequently amended many times.4 The act outlines the role of the federal government in space and consists of nine basic objectives, including the attainment of scientific knowledge, the development of space technology and flight systems, and international leadership and cooperation. The Space Act effectively authorizes NASA to conduct virtually all imaginable activities in space, including the creation of new spaceflight capabilities.

  To achieve a paradigm shift in spaceflight, we must understand how we can use lunar and space resources to create new capabilities and how difficult such activity might be. Despite decades of academic study, no one has demonstrated resource extraction on the Moon. There is nothing in the physics and chemistry of the materials of the Moon that suggests it is not possible; we simply do not know what practical problems might arise. This is why resource utilization is an appropriate goal for the federal space program. As a high-risk engineering research and development project, it is difficult for the private sector to raise the necessary capital to understand the magnitude of the problem from the perspective of an end-to-end system. The original VSE was conceived to let NASA answer these questions and to begin the process of creating a permanent cislunar transportation infrastructure. As an engineering research and development project with uncertain prospects for success, such an effort is entirely appropriate for the federal government to undertake. The results of this project could lead to the creation of new markets and wealth, as the private sector will then possess the strategic knowledge necessary to take advantage of the economic opportunities provided by cislunar space development.

  China and America: A New Space Race?

  Just as America is standing down from space leadership, China is stepping up its program to send people to the Moon. This circumstance has reawakened a long-standing debate about the geopolitical aspects of space travel and with it, some questions. Are we in a race back to the Moon? Should we be? And if there is a “space race” today, what do we mean by the term? Is it a race of military dimensions, or is such thinking an artifact of the Cold War? What are the implications of a new space race?

  Many who work in the space business purport to be unimpressed by the idea that China is going to the Moon, even publicly inviting them to waste money on such a stunt. “No big deal” seems to be the attitude—after all, America did that more than 40 years ago. NASA Administrator Charles Bolden professes to be unmoved by the possible future presence of a Chinese flag on the Moon, having noted
that there are already six American flags there. It should be further noted that 40 years of exposure to solar ultraviolet radiation has probably bleached and faded the red, white, and blue into a dull white.5

  Although it is not currently fashionable in this country to think about national interests and the competition of nations in space, others do not labor under these restrictions. Our current human spaceflight effort, the International Space Station (ISS), has shown us both the benefits and drawbacks of cooperative projects. Currently, we do not have the ability to send crews to and from the ISS. But that’s not a problem; the Russians have graciously agreed to transport us, at $60 million a pop.

  Why would nations compete in space, anyway? If such competition occurs, how might it affect us? What should we have in space: Kumbaya or Starship Troopers? Or is the answer somewhere in between?

  The “Moon race” of the 1960s was a Cold War exercise of soft power projection, meaning that it involved no real military confrontation, but rather was a competition by nonlethal means to determine which country had superior technology, and by extension, the superior political and economic system. In short, it was largely an international propaganda struggle. Simultaneously, the two countries also engaged in a hard power struggle in space to develop ever-better systems to observe and monitor the military assets of the other. There was little public debate associated with this struggle, indeed, much of it was kept secret. As the decade passed, military space systems became increasingly more capable and extensive. Over time, they largely replaced human intelligence assets monitoring our adversaries’ strategic capabilities and intentions.