Greetings all! Last week, we caught up on what China (the final major space power we'll be examining in Part III) was up to, with their Project 827 capsule and space station plans. However, this week, we're looking at something I know a lot of you are even more excited for--the plans of the United States for the 1990s. This will be a three-part series, but the first one arrives...now! Enjoy.
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Eyes Turned Skyward, Part II: Post #28
"...In 1961 it took a crisis--the space race--to speed things up. Today we don't have a crisis; we have an opportunity. To seize this opportunity, I'm not proposing a 10-year plan like Apollo; I'm proposing a long-range, continuing commitment. First, for the coming decade, for the 1990s: Space Station Freedom, our critical next step in all our space endeavors. And next, for the new century: Back to the Moon; back to the future. And this time, back to stay. And then a journey into tomorrow, a journey to another planet: a manned mission to Mars...."
--George H.W. Bush, Remarks on the 20th Anniversary of the Apollo 11 Moon Landing
From the very beginning of his presidential term, Bush had sought to remake NASA. As Reagan's Vice President, he had been heavily involved in the space policy making of that administration, and had become, if not really a true believer then at least willing to support relatively ambitious space programs. With Freedom construction well underway and scheduled to be wrapped up close to the end of his first term in office, Bush believed that he not only had a signal opportunity to give NASA a new direction for a new era, but also a responsibility to do so. After all, the last time NASA had been left to drift without direction from the White House the Soviets had developed Vulkan and Mir, overtaking the United States in space. Freedom would merely bring NASA back up to the Soviet's level, but would not again prove American space superiority. A new, more ambitious program was needed to do that, one which would also ensure that the United States never again fell behind in space exploration. This would mean a longer, slower program, rather than an Apollo-style crash program, which not incidentally would also mean a relatively cheap program, at least in terms of year-to-year budgets. No great investments, no huge infusion of political capital would be needed for Bush's imagined future; instead, a slow but steady progression, ensuring America was always abreast of the state of the art. Already during Reagan's presidency, several steps had been taken in this direction under the then Vice President Bush's influence. Throughout the 80s, pathfinder technology development programs had studied the advanced artificial intelligence, aerobraking capabilities, reusable vehicle technologies, cryogenic storage and transfer abilities, space-based nuclear reactors, and other key advancements that NASA had determined would be needed for future space activities, whether by humans or robots, while several studies had begun to outline the possibilities inherent in the Saturn Multibody configuration for operations beyond merely building and operating Space Station Freedom. Now, however, Bush had a far greater scope for reinterpreting the space program towards his vision of the future, even if that vision was as yet largely inchoate and unformed.
Bush's point man in figuring out what form this program would take would be his Vice President, Dan Quayle. While often mocked in the press due to his propensity for gaffes, he quickly became even more enthusiastic about the possibility of reshaping the space program than Bush ever was. As Chair of the National Space Council, he decided to carry out a series of one-on-one meetings with leading scientists, engineers, astronauts, aerospace executives, and other key space program figures to get a sense of what the possibilities were, what
could NASA do. One of those meetings was with Harrison Schmitt, the only geologist to have ever walked on the Moon, Senator from New Mexico between 1976 and 1982, and a strong proponent of space exploration and development. Although most associated with the Moon, Schmitt had become a strong advocate for Mars, arguing that the attitude that the United States had "done" the Moon meant that any further lunar exploration would attract little support from Congress or the public, and therefore be vulnerable to neglect and future budget cuts. Although aware and supportive of the possibility of lunar resources, including lava tube colonies, helium-3 extraction, the production of lunar oxygen to use in life support and propellant roles throughout cislunar and Earth orbital space, and even the more advanced concepts of O'Neill, Schmitt believed that under current conditions these were impractical and uneconomical schemes, requiring more technological development. Quayle, increasingly interested in space for its own sake, was entranced by Schmitt's description of the value of a Mars expedition to the United States, and invited the astronaut back several times for further discussion. For his part, Schmitt was surprised and pleased with the attention Quayle was giving him, happy to have found someone in the upper echelons of the government who was willing to listen and learn about his views on what was needed for the space program. When the time came for Bush to select his NASA administrator, Quayle argued forcefully for Schmitt's appointment, securing his new friend the position easily.
Prompted by the suggestion by several former administrators and NASA managers that the 20th anniversary of the Apollo 11 landing--July 20th 1989--might be a good time to announce a new space initiative, the National Space Council, including Vice President Quayle and Administrator Schmitt, met several times over the preceding months to try to define a practical and achievable set of goals that Bush could announce. Interactions between the Council, NASA's newly-formed Exploration Working Group, and selected members of Congress played a key role in shaping what "practical" and "achievable" meant, as political leaders informed the engineers and mission planners of the budget and political constraints they would likely face, while the engineers in turn informed the politicians of the technical limits any plan would run up against. While truly detailed planning was not possible given the limited time available, the preliminary studies indicated that ambitious exploration was available at an affordable price by reusing existing systems, such as Freedom-derived habitation modules, Saturn launch vehicles, and the new Advanced Crew Vehicle for an Apollo-type crew transport role. For a return to the Moon, only one new major system, the lander, needed to be developed from scratch, although funding would also be needed to design and build the surface hardware that would make any missions scientifically productive. Flights to Mars would require more work, but would still fundamentally depend on existing systems for much of the required hardware, drastically reducing development costs relative to analyses from the 1960s. With the groundwork having been laid already, a series of presentations made to industrial, scientific, and Congressional leaders over the week leading up to the 20th went exceptionally well. While few were startled by the content, equally few had seen the integrated, if sketchy, plans that NASA had internally developed, and most were surprised by how sensitive NASA had been to outside concerns. Rather than simply presenting a single extremely ambitious approach, perhaps with some minor variations for a pretense at "economy," the Working Group had developed five highly distinctive mission scenarios. Three involved ventures to only Mars or the Moon, while the other two combined aspects of both into more ambitious plans. This meant that rather than having to say yes or no to a single plan, Congress and the Administration could pick and choose from several, selecting the one that seemed to have the best balance between ambition and cost.
The resulting positive response from scientists to Congressional aides provided the final impetus necessary for an official announcement on the 20th. After a brief ceremony honoring the Apollo 11 astronauts, Bush unveiled the plan with a great deal of rhetorical flourish. Beginning with a paean to the possibilities of space, including a reference to a future of "constellations of human activity--American activity--in space," he quickly asserted that, with the imminent completion of Space Station Freedom, the time to seize those possibilities and begin work on the future was now. And how to do so? A return to the Moon, followed by a voyage to Mars early in the next century would provide achievable yet impressive goals for the American space program, again cementing the leadership of the United States in space exploration. Although he avoided describing specific details, leaving it up to NASA and the National Space Council to come up with actual plans, budgets, and timelines for the new project, he certainly tried as hard as possible to make a new space initiative sound attractive and important to the nation, whatever form it might take. With the end of his speech came the near-simultaneous start of Administrator Schmitt's press conference. By dynamically addressing questions about the expected costs, schedules, foreign partners, and more, Schmitt managed to somewhat weaken the skepticism of the press corps towards the size and expense of the new venture. More importantly, in the course of the press conference he improvised a proper name for the new program, which had previously been known generically as "the space initiative" or "the space exploration initiative". Seizing on the line referring to "constellations of human activity," Schmitt called the new program "Project Constellation," deliberately calling back to Project Apollo.
Now with an official Presidential mandate backing them up, the Exploration Working Group was reworked into the Office of Exploration and charged with turning the preliminary reports of the Working Group into a detailed set of possible alternatives for politicians to decide on, while also considering the possibilities of advanced Pathfinder technologies or management changes in reducing costs or accelerating schedules. As they pored through NASA studies dating back to the 1960s, a flood of private analyses began pour in from all over the country, with sources ranging from space cadets with too much time on their hands to major organizations such as the National Space Organization, all hoping to influence the direction of America's space program. Everything from ignoring Bush's directions altogether for ventures to the asteroids or other locations to ambitious colonization proposals involving the construction of vast amounts of infrastructure in circumearth and cislunar space to support flotillas of vessels carrying scientists, engineers, technicians, even farmers and janitors to Mars hit NASA's mailboxes, forcing them to take special measures just to handle the influx. The last time NASA had had anything like a Presidential mandate, private space policy groups and space advocacy organizations simply didn't exist, leaving the government and contractors to do all of the work, but this time over a decade of work by private organizations had primed them to regard such a mandate as an opportunity to make their voice heard by NASA. While some of these reports, particularly from industry contractors, space advocacy organizations, and other groups with the technical and historical background to make reasonable and developed plans were seriously considered, most were rejected without being read, if for no other reason than a lack of time on the part of the Office of Exploration's staff to read them all. Over the next six months, the Office's staff considered new options, fleshed out old plans, and developed the definitive NASA response to Project Constellation.