Spaceguard and NEOs

‘Spaceguard’ is the blanket term for human attempts to avert asteroid impact. It aims to identify any potential threats, rate them, and – if one were discovered that posed a serious, legitimate, near-term threat – work together with other agencies to try and deal with the threat. It lacks any kind of overall coherence, and also refers to a variety of different groups and nations all attempting the same thing. Spaceguard is thus not a brand, or a company, or a project, but a loose term for all the efforts directed at guarding us from NEO (Near-Earth Object) impact (or, rather, identifying the possibility of impact; protecting against even a predicted impact is a very different matter). There exists the ‘Spaceguard Foundation’ which bills itself as the centre of this activity, but national equivalents still remain.

The term Spaceguard itself was coined by Arthur C Clarke in his 1972 novel Rendezvous With Rama, in this writer’s opinion the best thing he ever wrote. It referred to a program for locating and cataloguing objects in the solar system that could pose a threat to human life, and inadvertently causes the discovery of the novel’s eponymous spacecraft. Subsequently, US space policy first mentioned the idea in the early 1990s, after which it gained interest and gathered funds. This raised profile has been one factor that has led to, in recent years, the emergence of a new kind of space consensus which considers them a potential landing target, not just a threat that requires abrogation. However, landing on an NEO would have relatively little impact on Spaceguard strategies. The compositions of many potentially-dangerous NEOs have already been estimated, and detailed knowledge of their chemical and mineral makeups are non-essential to predicting orbits, and therefore potential future impacts. Rather, it presents a target more challenging (and untested) than the Moon, but one less challenging and far closer to Earth than visiting Mars.

This ‘flexible path’ model is less committed to the clear goal of reaching Mars than a “Mars-first” paradigm. It is traditionally assumed that Mars is the next objective for global space exploration, but this is no longer a short-term opinion shared by global space policy-makers. Proponents of the flexible path generally either implicitly or explicitly acknowledge Mars as the next major goal for spaceflight, but consider it too technically challenging (and too difficult to raise the required political capital for) in the near future, opting instead for a varied, changeable global space consensus that can adapt rapidly to changing conditions and set more realistic, short-term goals, that should lead slowly towards the Martian goal.

There is, however, one strong correlation between the threat of NEOs and their attractiveness as a landing project. The greater the threat an NEO was, the more public support there would likely be for a visit, even if that visit actually had very little to do with reflection or abrogation of disaster. The most dangerous NEO currently identified has a minute chance of impact, but that NEO remains the most well-known, and therefore the most likely to get any kind of public support behind it. In fact, the necessity of removing the threat might be the greatest impetus to land on one in the first place. In the public eye, NEOs are close to asteroids, and asteroids – or those publically lumped into a category of equivalences – will never capture public interest like another planet would. It would seem more like a scientific mission, an interesting endeavour, a test of technology, to land upon one; not a momentous mankind-affecting occasion like setting foot upon Mars surely would. Indeed, perhaps the fact that the challenge of reaching Mars is so vivid in the imagination that any destination closer to home, however exotic, can never hold as much interest now that we have set a clear distance to cover in the next great step of space exploration.

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Asteroid Mining and SF

Asteroid Mining is a common SF trope. Particularly in recent years, it has bled into the discourses of space policy, and has been suggested as a potential wider-scale ‘entry’ route to space for private companies, not just states or public-private partnerships. The idea is that because space programs no longer have the political capital they once had, the drive for natural resources will always remain. However, on the Earth, thus-far untapped resources of oil and mineral resources remain in that state due to their lack of economic, not practical viability. This is to say, we are technically able to mine them, but the extra effort over easier sources of oil – and any political/social factors, such as mining the incredible mineral wealth in the DR Congo, or oil conflicts in the Niger delta – means they simply aren’t worth bothering with. However, just as agreement over passing peak oil will likely lead to more and more sites becoming worth exploiting, so too will the decline of terrestrial mineral resources push us towards extraterrestrial sources of the same.

However, needless to say, the resources required for off-world mining dwarf those required for mining even the most obscure and difficult-to-reach of Earthly resources. Russia hopes some form of extraterrestrial mining will be viable by 2020; suspicions abound about India’s early space ambitions and the mining of the Moon; and the US suggested asteroid mining could be a major economic drive for the exploration of space (the monetization of space being an issue for my thesis work). One particularly sharp incentive has been noted in recent research suggesting much of the Earth’s crucial minerals – gold, cobalt, iron, nickel, palladium, platnium and tungsten, to a name a few – likely had extraterrestrial origins, and an ‘average’ asteroid may contain trillions of dollars worth of these materials.

Helium-3 is mined in the recent film Moon; Red Dwarf in the eponymous series of one of few ships that slog back and forth across the Solar System mining asteroids; the Nostromo (above) in Alien is returning from a presumably very, very distant star, bringing its mining yield with it. In Sid Meier’s Alpha Centauri, even having developed the requisite technology for travelling to our nearest star, the need for asteroid mining (and its lack of ubiquity) remains even under those technological circumstances. Mining is not the trivialized activity it has become in our post-industrial societies. Rather, in moving beyond the atmosphere, it has once against become something fraught with danger; something that can secure great wealth for a few, particular, corporations; and someone that requires going beyond safe ground, where the dangers of outer space have replaced the dangers of the inner Earth.

In this way, science fiction seems to actually put forward a more realistic timescale and agenda for asteroid mining. One cannot help but feel “X years until we’re mining asteroids” will become a second iteration of the “X years until we land on Mars” claims; national claims to asteroid mining will simply fall by the wayside for very many years to come. Instead, these scenarios set hundreds of years in the future argue that even then, mining beyond the Earth will be challenging, unusual, expensive, and therefore presumably relegated to only the most vital of resources and conducted by the largest and most powerful of megacorporations. Returning anything to Earth – a fairly crucial part of outer space mining – is orders of magnitude more difficult than simply putting satellites out there. The coming scarcity of resources will be responded to by adjusting our living conditions, manufacturing methods and lifestyles; not by an immediate and unexpectedly inexpensive expansion into the solar system.

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Why study space programs?

This is in no way related to my post of a similar name on the other blog, Why make a Roguelike?, despite the obviously deliberate similarity in their naming. Rather, these questions seem like apparent places to begin writing about the topics, and since I neglected to discuss it in my previous entry on this blog, I shall endeavor to now do so instead.

So, why am I studying space programs? On one level, the personal one, outer space has always been a major interest of mine. I’ve always followed closely all news relating to the Shuttle, the ISS, the previous iterations of space station before it, and the increasingly serious space programs of other countries besides the US and the USSR/Russia. I’ve found – both in the real found, and fiction – that space programs can, at their best, epitomise everything that is daring, imaginative, idealistic, and (even more important) cooperative about humanity. Disparate groups and, more recently, disparate states have been able to put their often legendary lists of grievances with each other aside to do something as big, and as bold, as launching something outside the atmosphere. Not to deny these often serve state-centric short-term goals (something I aim to study) and the idea of ‘for all mankind’ is perhaps, sadly, nothing beyond a naive buzz-phrase, but it still gives me a little hope.

Academically, there are an assortment of reasons I think space programs merit serious, micro-scale study, more incisive and more focused than the large geopolitical commentary often attached to it. Here’s a few of them – more will probably come later (especially ‘abstract’ science, which is likely to be a key PhD focus):

Extinction.

This is perhaps the most common of the justifications, so I shall try to mention it only briefly. As Robert Heinlein is credited with saying: “Earth is just too small and fragile a basket for mankind to keep all its eggs in”. Given the variety of existential threats currently facing the human race (which, likewise, can be assigned quite a variety of different probabilities), such as disease, starvation, nuclear war, asteroid impact and others, we are simply failing to consider the long-term. Not that this is anything new for modern governments, but we only have a single chance, at the moment, to survive an extinction event. Spreading out, even on a small scale, would give us another. As nuclear war seems almost impossible now, the others are events we have no direct control over, and yet have made minimal effort to counter. Space programs could, in the future, give us a chance to insure the human race against total catastrophe.

Living conditions.

This could reasonably be split into two categories. On the one side are concerns about global overpopulation, which have been discussed a thousand times and have been on the receiving end of a thousand solutions. On an obvious level, there is more room out there than on our one planet. However, given that any initial colonisation effort will be focused in the most well-off financial/social echelons of the human race – and therefore, generally, not those who suffer most directly from overcrowding – a second pull of space travel could be the lure of natural resources. Finding oil out there isn’t going to happen, but there are a number of resources out in the solar system we could benefit from, primarily rare metals. The need is not acute yet, but as with any other natural resource – there is only so much on this planet. There could, conceivably, come a day when it makes economic sense to mine elsewhere.

However, as with any other rationale, serious use of the rest of the solar system will obviously only take place if, or when, space travel and space programs become vastly cheaper than they are. This, in turn, can only happen the more money is put into developing cheaper launch vehicles, launch sites, and spreading around the prerequisite technology – thus, another interest here is how technologies exist within the networks of space programs, how they spread, how they are restricted, and what direct effects they have on a program’s success or failure.

Space program inputs.

To use the appropriate sociological term, space programs are quintessential examples of ‘black boxes’ – even those directly involved in the funding see very few of the processes within the space industry (unless the project in question has a bearing on the military) and only then acquire the finished project. The space industry is a very under-analysed subset of modern technology, and yet one so much money, time, effort and expertise goes into. Vast amounts of money are put into fewer projects than almost any other budget allocation – excluding even bigger ‘Big Science’ like the LHC – along with huge numbers of skilled scientists, engineers, and a not insignificant amount of public attention. Naturally this is less than it used to be when space programs were both a) new and b) popularly conceived as one of the strongest indicators of Cold War international standing, but space missions remain reported. Of course, those that go wrong get more air time, but that surely says more about modern news reporting than the space industry itself.

Some key reasons for my research, then, include the obvious ones – is this worth it? It is being well-spent? Do appropriate returns come out of these sociotechnical systems? While my central questions are how people are recruited into putting their resources towards space programs, a driving factor is an analysis of the effectiveness of space programs. So many resources should not, I believe, be going into an industry with comparatively little sociopolitical analysis. Hopefully, in three years time, I’ll have done something to resolve this…

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The beginning of the Space PhD

I considered making this first post ‘Why study space programs?’. It would mirror the ‘Why make a roguelike?‘ post from the other blog on this site, and also seems like a logical place to start. Asking why I’m intending to devote three years to this is a good question, and one I’ll answer somewhere down the line. However, for now, I thought I’d talk a bit, for starters, about a) the difference in the level of study afforded to the ‘micro’ and the ‘macro’ aspects of space programs, and b) why I am choosing to use ‘Actor-Network Theory’ as the basis for my thesis, and why I think it’s particularly well suited to studying space programs.

The Micro, and the Macro

Space programs are generally viewed through a lens of Political Science, and sometimes International Relations. Which is to say – the focus in any social science study of space programs is on the big picture. The classic, of course, is the Space Race – entire libraries have been written on the geopolitical motivations behind the Race, and the repercussions of the early USSR victory and the later, greater, US victories. The overwhelming majority of space studies follow this model.

However, I hope to break with this by analyzing the micro – I’m interested in the specific, small networks that build up around specific space programs. These involve scientists with expertise in the particular area; bodies who perhaps own the technologies being used; individuals who are, in the public eye, associated with that nation’s space projects; those, either governmental or private, who put forward the vast amounts of money required; and many others. The further out you go, the wider these networks become – do you just include those who manufactured the Space Shuttle’s boosters, or those who designed them, or those who physically built them, or those who made the fuel, or those who worked out the formula for the fuel, or… and so on. The larger components have more writing devoted to them; but each one extends further than the study of International Relations, as a discipline, can examine, and that to resolve that is a goal of my PhD.

 Actor-Network Theory

Ordinarily, I would here link to Wikipedia, but the Wikipedia article on ANT is remarkably weak. Therefore, to paraphrase my understanding of ANT and save whoever reads this from searching for it, ANT effectively treats humans and ‘non-humans’ as equal. Which to say: in the social sciences, the two ‘extremes’ of technological study either follow a technological determinist route – arguing that changing technology is the central determinant of human affairs – or a socially determinist route, positing that technology is wholly subservient to human affairs. To use some pop culture examples to illustrate this point – a technologically determinist account is recounted by the Civilization series of games, wherein discovering a new technology creates new social options for your civilization. In Civ IV, for example, discovering the ‘Bronze Working’ technology allows your civilization to adopt Slavery – presumably, for the construction of shackles, and whatnot. By contrast, some arguments about earlier automobiles posit that the desire to stop women driving – a social driver – determined that cars were made with pedals particularly low, so only taller men could access them – a technological outcome. Similarly, technological ‘conflicts’ like Betamax or Blu-Ray/HD-DVD were, arguably, resolved more by social pressures than technological.

ANT attempts to run a middle-ground between the two, and acknowledge that both the technology and the social effects around it are ‘actors’ in the network around a particular development, and evenly distribute causality. For example, for mobile phones, a more efficient method of using rare earth metals would reduce the need for them per mobile, while political factors around China could affect access to them. Both the ‘natural’ and the ‘political’ have effects on the network, and could affect the price, or their dependency on certain materials or certain countries. Thus, I am using ANT to analyse space program networks precisely because they are so tightly focused on the technologies involved – all the time, money, expertise and interest goes into creating a single, fragile object which is then (generally) fired into the upper atmosphere. More so than other ‘Big Science’ projects, the object created at the end of the process adopts the utmost importance. More will be said on this in the future, of course, as this is just the first entry, and the precise direction of my PhD might end up changing a little.

Anyway – while I know what the structure of the other blog is, this one is still a new experience, so it’s going to be fortnightly, and might vary between academic things, PhD-life things, and anything else. We’ll see.

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