Assessing the Spin-offs of Spaceflight

Our lives are enhanced by technologies developed through the research and development supported by the necessities of spaceflight. NASA has documented since 1976 more than 1,300 technologies that have benefited U.S. citizens, improved our quality of life, and helped to advance the nation’s economic welfare.

Of course, much has been made over the years of what NASA calls “spin-offs,” commercial products that had at least some of their origins as a result of spaceflight-related research. Most years the agency puts out a book describing some of the most spectacular, and they range from laser angioplasty to body imaging for medical diagnostics to imaging and data analysis technology. Spin-offs were not Tang and Teflon, neither of which was actually developed for the Apollo program.

NASA has spent a lot of time and trouble trying to track these benefits of the space program in an effort to justify its existence. With the caveat that technology transfer is an exceptionally complex subject that is almost impossible to track properly, these various studies show much about the prospect of technological lagniappe from the U.S. effort to access and operate in space.

Whether good or bad, no amount of cost-benefit analysis, which the spin-off argument essentially makes, can sustain NASA’s historic level of funding. More interesting, and ultimately more useful, would be to explore in depth several key technologies used in spaceflight and trace whatever attributes might have found their way into other sectors. The point, of course, is that the past did not have to develop in the way that it did, and that there is evidence to suggest that the space program pushed technological development in certain paths that might have not been followed otherwise.

More useful, I would assert is a counterfactual question. How would your life today be different if we did not fly in space? There can be no fully satisfactory answer to that question. One person’s vision is another’s belly laugh. But perhaps we can begin with the elimination of instantaneous global telecommunications. Imagine no Internet, no easy international calling, no direct television, no up-to-the-minute sporting events or news from other parts of the world, no skyping to friends worldwide, and the list goes on and on.

The results of these investments in space technology are everywhere around us. It was in no small measure from government investment in miniature electronics technologies in the 1960s and 1970s that the many devices we use today, such as smartphones, sprang. It is from government investment in computing and telecommunications technology that the Internet emerged. It was from government R&D that our space-based system of navigation—the Global Positioning System, or GPS — has made reading a paper map obsolete. These are only a few examples among thousands that might be offered.

 

GPS

The Global Positioning System requires at least 24 satellites to be fully operational and provide global coverage. Satellites are placed in four orbital planes. The GPS satellite orbit at half the distance to geosynchronous orbit, thereby taking 12 hours to complete each orbit.

How our lives would be different had we never engaged in spaceflight from what they are at present cannot really be determined, but it is obvious that they would be quite different. Think of the many high technology capabilities we enjoy—starting with biomedical diagnostics and related technologies and ending with telecommunications breakthroughs—that might well have followed different courses and perhaps have lagged beyond their present breakneck pace as a result. Some of us might well think that a positive development, though I doubt most would want to go back to typewriters, problematic global communication, and the manner in which we lived our lives before the space age. Despite the nostalgia for bygone eras before the information and technology revolution—found in such popular television shows as Mad Men and Pan Am—I believe few would like to return to that time. I certainly wouldn’t.

 

geostationary

This image depicts the geostationary equatorial orbit in which most communications and weather satellites are located.

What might the future hold? Without question, the U.S. is at a critical juncture regarding the long-term health of its science and technology. Knowledge is critical to maintaining America’s competitive edge in the world. It is only possible to maintain our leading edge by increasing investment in a comprehensive R&D program. I look forward to seeing that take place in the near future.

Roger D. Launius is a senior curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

Getting “Enterprise” Ready for Prime Time

Early on the morning of March 1, 2004, a small band of preservation specialists consisting of Anne McCombs, Steve Kautner, and Ed Mautner walked into the James S. McDonnell Space Hangar at the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center.  There was but a single artifact in that huge hangar — OV-101, Space Shuttle Test Vehicle, Enterprise.  The hangar was scheduled to open to the public on October 20, 2004. We had eight  months to clean the exterior and interior; repair and repaint damage to the faux tiles that covered the nose, belly, vertical stabilizer, and rudder; then strip and repaint the center fuselage and payload bay doors.  There we stood with buckets of water, gallon jugs of Amway LOC, which was recommended by NASA and their contractor United Space Alliance (USA), boxes of cotton rags, and a few ladders that would only elevate us 3-3.5 meters (10-12 feet) above the ground.  The size and scope of our task was truly daunting as Enterprise was 37 meters (122 feet) long with a wingspan of 24 meters (78 feet) and a vertical stabilizer that topped out at nearly 18 meters (60 feet) above the floor.

Space Shuttle Enterprise

The Space Shuttle "Enterprise" was the first spacecraft to be moved into the Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center's James S. McDonnell Space Hangar in 2004.

Enterprise was originally planned to be an orbiter but was never fully outfitted for spaceflight.  In 1977, it served first as a test vehicle atop a modified 747 in a series of drop and glide tests from about 7,620 meters (25,000 feet).  When its primary test programs ended in 1979, it languished and its appearance began to deteriorate.  In 1983 it was refurbished with a fresh coat of paint and new markings for the 1983 Paris Air Show and the 1984 World’s Fair in New Orleans.  NASA transferred Enterprise to the National Air and Space Museum in 1985 where it was stored outdoors for two years and in a non-climate-controlled hangar for 17 years. During this time it became dirty and its paint continued to deteriorate.  After it came to the Museum, Enterprise continued to be a test bed for NASA. They performed launch vibration tests, facility test checks, arresting barrier, and emergency crew egress tests.  These last tests scarred the paint on the forward fuselage and payload bay doors.   Our job was to restore it to its  former pristine appearance.

 

Space Shuttle Enterprise

Space Shuttle "Enterprise" flew into Washington Dulles International Airport on November 16, 1985 atop a modified Boeing 747 carrier aircraft. Using cranes, the "Enterprise" was removed from the top of the 747 and lowered to the tarmac at Dulles on November 17. On December 6 the National Aeronautic and Space Administration transferred title of the "Enterprise" to the National Air and Space Museum at a black tie gala at the airport.

The ladders made the decision of where to start easy — hit the low hanging fruit — landing gear, wheel wells, and the belly.   As the month progressed we received high lift equipment which gave access to most of the top portions of Enterprise. We also received an additional member, Tony Carp, to clean and repair the vertical stabilizer and rudder. Tony also coordinated the removal of the OMS (Orbital Maneuvering System) pods, which were sent back to the Paul E. Garber Preservation, Restoration and Storage Facility for restoration.  Once finished with the exterior, we cleaned the cockpit, payload bay, and aft power plant bay.

Our next task was to scrape and sand off the deteriorated paint on the center fuselage and payload bay doors, an area measuring over 372 square meters (4,000 square feet). We did this from scaffolding erected on June 17th.  This structure enclosed and bridged Enterprise, allowing us to safely reach all of the upper areas. With the clock ticking, additional members were allocated on August 9th to do the final sanding, scraping, and paint prep, which we finished on September 2nd.

 

Space Shuttle Enterprise

The Space Shuttle "Enterprise" surrounded by scaffolding that allowed our collections specialists to safely reach all the upper areas of the spacecraft.

Our donated aerospace paint and primer arrived September 17.  Due to the space hangar’s filtration system and health and safety concerns we had to use rollers and apply the paint between 5:30 p.m. and 6:00 a.m.  PPG-DeSoto, the paint donor, provided an additive that “flowed” the rolled-on paint to give a smooth, sprayed-on appearance.  We finished the prep, priming, and white top coat in the wee hours of September 29.  The scaffolding came down the next day and we were left with just our original team of four plus two part-time volunteers to remove masking; do final clean-up and equipment stowage; touch up many of the polyurethane foam faux tiles; and restore the markings, “United States,” NASA “Worm” logo, and the name Enterprise on the forward payload bay doors.

 

paint

Preservation specialists, Tony Carp (top left) and Bob Weihrauch (bottom right), paint the Space Shuttle "Enterprise" as part of its restoration in 2004.

Long before work began, several curatorial decisions were made. First, Enterprise did not need a full restoration.  It was structurally intact and had no signs of serious corrosion.  So it would be cleaned, signs of corrosion or deterioration noted, and deteriorated paint and markings would be replaced.  The second decision was to return it to its appearance in 1985. To achieve this we carefully traced all of the markings before paint removal began.  When we had sanded through the top layer of paint we discovered earlier markings similar to those of 1985, but with slightly different shape, location, and color shades.  We traced and made notes of these for future reference.  Once repainted, we retraced the markings in pencil then hand-painted them as had been done originally.  While doing this a contract crew was assembling the barriers around Enterprise in preparation for the “Grand Opening” just days away.  We finished clean-up and detailing on October 18, 2004.

While we never let our eyes slip from our target date, there were interesting diversions that made a challenging project pretty enjoyable.  We were tasked to assist NASA and USA in several of their planned visits to inspect or work on Enterprise.  One day, Col. Joe Engle, one of Enterprise’s command test pilots, came to visit his old craft, inquire about our work, and congratulate us on our efforts.  Another highlight was a visit from Col. Pamela Melroy, USAF.  Col. Melroy was an Air Force test pilot and would become a two-mission space shuttle pilot (STS-92 and 112), and mission commander (STS-120). We met her while she was still a member of the Shuttle Columbia accident investigation team. We escorted her through Enterprise and she also expressed pleasure with our efforts.

The Enterprise project was grand in scope; interesting and exciting every day; and very rewarding in terms of personal gratification.  Our small crew worked without a budget, and with limited resources, personnel, and time.  For so many reasons, I recall looking forward to getting in to work on it every day.  It was an exciting environment that literally put us on a stage where the visitors were always viewing us from barriers at the front of the hangar and from the hangar overlook.  And when the scaffolding was assembled, there was the ever-present element of danger.  Everyday, several times a day, we had to free climb 9-12 meters (30-40 feet) straight up the rungs to the platforms next to or over the shuttle.  Once on top, we could attach our safety harness tethers to the scaffold structure. In eight months we had only one injury.  One of our members slipped off the top of the payload bay doors.  Due to the harness and tether, he suffered only a banged knee.  Our constant discussions about safety and the use of fall protection certainly paid dividends.

 

Enterprise

The Space Shuttle "Enterprise," before and after its restoration.

During our days working on Enterprise we received several recurring questions about it from docents and visitors: is it real and did it go into space?  What does it look like inside and will the Museum let visitors walk through it?  Well, it is quite “real.”  It was the first shuttle of the first batch or “block” of three and with the demise of Challenger and Columbia, it is the sole survivor of that block.  Discovery, Atlantis, and Endeavour constitute the second block of shuttles.  However, as Enterprise was never fully fitted-out to be an orbiter, the payload bay is a maze of structure and framework that poses too many hazards to permit public entry.  The cockpit, bare of instrumentation, is very small and it would be difficult to route the more than one million visitors who might wish to enter it each year. Furthermore, the National Air and Space Museum has not in the past opened accessioned aircraft or spacecraft for public entry due to preservation concerns.  For all of these reasons the Museum decided not to permit access into Enterprise.

 

crew

Left to right: Steve Kautner, Dave Wilson, Bob McLean (background), Ed Mautner (foreground), Bob Weihrauch, Will Lee, Anne Mccombs.

 

Space Shuttle Enterprise

The Space Shuttle "Enterprise" is the centerpiece of the James S. McDonnell Space Hangar of the National Air and Space Museum's Steven F. Udvar-Hazy Center

On the morning of October 19, 2004, members of the press began to arrive to photograph, video, and write about the opening of the John S. McDonnell Space Hangar and its most prominent artifact, the Space Shuttle Enterprise. The public got its first glimpse the following day.  The space hangar and Enterprise were received with praise and excitement by NASA and Museum staff, the media, and the visiting public.  In addition, our small team received one of the two prestigious Peer Awards presented by the Museum for 2004.  Was it a rewarding project? You bet.

Ed Mautner is a preservation specialist in the Collections Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

Reflections on Post-Cold War Issues for International Space Cooperation

In the 1990s the United States collaborative space policy entered an extended period of transition from the earlier era of Cold War, one in which NASA has been compelled to deal with international partners on a much more even footing than ever before.

Apollo 17

Will the next flag on the Moon be a national flag or one representative of humankind as a whole? This image from Apollo 17 shows the U.S. flag on the Moon, an important symbolic moment for the United States in the Cold War race to the Moon with the Soviet Union. Those times have passed and cooperative efforts are the norm for the future.

This was true for several reasons. U.S. preeminence in space technology was rapidly declining, especially in launcher technology as other nations built their own internal capabilities. This was especially true of the European Space Agency’s superb Ariane launcher. This made it increasingly possible for other nations to “go it alone,” as a vernacular expression states.

U.S. commitment to sustained “preeminence” in space activities also waned and significantly less public monies went into NASA missions. The Clinton administration’s “National Space Policy” of September 29, 1996, for example, abandoned the language of preeminence that had been used since the origins of the space race in the 1950s. In addition, NASA’s budget declined in terms of real dollars every year from 1993 to 2000.

Of international cooperative projects that remained, NASA increasingly acceded to the demands of collaborators to develop critical systems and technologies. This overturned a longstanding policy of not allowing partners onto the critical technological path, something that had been flirted with but not accepted in the Space Shuttle development project.

This was in large measure a pragmatic decision on the part of American officials. Because of the increasing size and complexity of projects, according to former NASA international relations chief Kenneth Pedersen in 1992, more recent projects have produced “numerous critical paths whose upkeep costs alone will defeat U.S. efforts to control and supply them.”

Pedersen added, “It seems unrealistic today to believe that other nations possessing advanced technical capabilities and harboring their own economic competitiveness objectives will be amenable to funding and developing only ancillary systems.”

In addition to these important developments, the rise of competitive economic activities in space has mitigated the prospects for future collaborations. The brutal competition for launch business, the cutthroat nature of space applications, and the rich possibilities for space-based economic activities have created a climate in which international ventures may once again become the exception.

Historian John Krige astutely commented in 1998 that “collaboration has worked most smoothly when the science or technology concerned is not of direct strategic (used here to mean commercial or military) importance. As soon as a government feels that its national interests are directly involved in a field of R&D, it would prefer to go it alone.” He also noted that the success of cooperative projects may take as their central characteristic that they have “no practical application in at least the short to medium term.”

I would add that the sole exception to this perspective might be when nations decide that for prestige or diplomatic purposes it is appropriate to cooperate in space. A superb example of this is the effort beginning in 1992 to bring the Russians into the space station program already underway by a consortium of nations as a means of building stronger ties to Russia in the early post-Cold War era.

One of the key conclusions that we might reach about the course of international cooperation between the United States and its international collaborators in space is that it has been an enormously difficult process. I am reminded of the quote attributed to Wernher von Braun, “we can lick gravity, but sometimes the paperwork is overwhelming.” Even so, cooperative space endeavors have been richly rewarding and overwhelmingly useful, from all manner of scientific, technical, social, and political perspectives.

International Space Station Components

The International Space Station is the most significant international cooperative program in the history of spaceflight. This image shows the components of the station and which nation constructed them.

Kenneth Pedersen observed in 1983, “international space cooperation is not a charitable enterprise; countries cooperate because they judge it in their interest to do so.” For continued cooperative efforts in space to proceed into the twenty-first century it is imperative that those desiring them define appropriate projects and ensure that national leaders judge them as being of interest and worthy of pursuing them in a cooperative manner.

Roger D. Launius is a senior curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum.

Is Resistance Futile?

In Star Trek: The Next Generation the intrepid crew of the United Starship Enterprise repeatedly face the Borg, cyborgs intent on assimilating the biological creatures of the universe into their collective consciousness. Their meme, “resistance is futile,” serves as a convenient tagline for this ongoing plot device in the fictional series, but it also may foreshadow a more realistic future for humanity as we reach into space. When considering the far future and the potential for humans to colonize other bodies in the solar system and beyond, perhaps humanity will adapt to the space environment through modifications of the human body like those found on the Borg.

This idea was first broached by scientists Manfred E. Clynes and Nathan S. Kline in a 1960 NASA study. They remarked: “Altering man’s bodily functions to meet the requirements of extraterrestrial environments would be more logical than providing an earthly environment for him in space.”  They proposed a variety of modifications that would allow humans to withstand radiation, the absence of atmospheric oxygen, and other hazards of space. They coined the term “cyborg” to describe this adaptation.

Sojourner and Astronaut on Mars

The classic image of humans and robots working together is depicted in this NASA artwork. Sojourner, the Mars Pathfinder rover named after former slave and famous abolitionist Sojourner Truth, is visited many years after its mission by a descendant of its namesake, in this artist’s rendering. Like the human, Sojourner the rover paved the way for those that followed. This image was produced for NASA by Pat Rawling.

Since that time, NASA has refrained from serious consideration of the ideas offered by Clynes and Kline, although a few studies in the 1960s investigated these possibilities. But what of the future, especially the distant future? To date, human presence in space has consisted of what might be characterized as extended camping trips, often a week or more but rarely exceeding a half year in length.  Yet space advocates continue to propose far lengthier stays, from planetary outposts to solar system colonization.

If colonization of the solar system, and the rest of the galaxy, is truly desirable, will it be done by Homo sapiens?  In undertaking this cosmic venture, humans might change, especially if very long periods of time are involved.  Humans born and raised on extraterrestrial locations would change naturally in response to different conditions.  Given advances in biotechnology, others might reengineer themselves.  The current debate over the superiority of humans versus robots in space could disappear in the presence of such alterations.

A provocative possibility appears in the rapid rise of biotechnology, suggesting that humans may become cyborgs through the application of sophisticated machinery in ways at least initially unrelated to space exploration. In many ways we are already there, with millions of people enjoying a better quality of life, or in some cases life itself, through the incorporation of pacemakers, joint and limb replacements, cochlear hearing implants, artificial organs, and a potential list of even more sophisticated enhancements. Future possibilities are astonishing.

How might we remake the human body to more effectively meet the rigors of space exploration? Skeptics may scoff at this possibility as nothing more than bioscience fiction, but space exploration was itself fiction in the truest sense of the word less than 75 years ago. Advances in biotechnology could take place with similar speed.

Robonaut

NASA’s Robonaut (foreground) is a step forward in terms of human/machine interaction. Here it performs a mock weld while Ames Research Center's K10 robot assists two EVA crew inspecting a previously welded seam.

The result, given sufficient time, may be the emergence of a new age of space exploration. Technological developments now beginning to take place might permit a true merger—humans equipped with robotic parts or machines possessing sentient qualities. In that sense, humans and robots would explore space together—really together.

The implications of such developments for the future of space exploration are fascinating.  They are made more interesting when one considers the degree to which humans might change during the millions of years available to colonize the galaxy. Who knows what derivations of the human form could emerge? Such developments would alter the traditional debate over space exploration in ways that provide a new paradigm quite different than the one casting humans with all of their biological limitations into the extraterrestrial realm. Such developments might make space travel more attainable, though in unconventional ways.

So, is there a Borg in our future? Possibly; even probably. In fact, we may already be there with all of the biotechnological enhancements now routinely offered to human beings. This possibility, moving as it does away from the necessity of maintaining organic life under Earth-like conditions throughout the cosmos, offers a fascinating option for space travel. If we did not require Earth-like conditions to survive, our ability to colonize strikingly diverse non-Earth-like worlds would expand. Many spheres, including those within the local solar system not currently suitable for human occupation, might prove acceptable. Is it possible that once cyborgs emerge—and undertake space travel—they will shoulder the burden of carrying the essence of humanity to other worlds? Resistance may be futile, if the Borg really are us. But they need not be feared.

Roger D. Launius is senior curator in the Space History Division of the National Air and Space Museum. Howard E. McCurdy is professor of public affairs at the American University,Washington, D.C. They pubished Robots in Space: Technology, Evolution, and Interplanetary Travel (Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), from which the ideas here are taken.

Why Yuri Gagarin Remains the First Man in Space, Even Though He Did Not Land Inside His Spacecraft

Every year as the anniversary of the first human spaceflight approaches, I receive calls inquiring about the validity of Yuri Gagarin’s claim as the first human in space.  The legitimate questions focus on the fact that Gagarin did not land inside his spacecraft.  The reasoning goes that since he did not land inside his spacecraft, he disqualified himself from the record books.  This might seem to be a very reasonable argument, but Gagarin remains the first man in space.  The justification for Gagarin remaining in that position lies in the organization that sets the standards for flight.

Yuri Gagarin

Soviet cosmonaut Major Yuri Alexeyevich Gagarin, probably on or about April 12, 1961, when he made his orbital space flight in Vostok 1.

The Fédération Aéronautique Internationale (FAI) is the world’s air sports federation.  It was founded in 1905 as a non-governmental and non-profit making international organization to further aeronautical and astronautical activities worldwide.  Among its duties, the FAI certifies and registers records.  Its first records in aviation date back to 1906.  The organization also arbitrates disputes over records.  If nationals from two different countries claim a record, it is the FAI’s job to examine the submitted documentation and make a ruling as to who has accomplished the feat first.  When it was apparent that the United States and the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics were planning to launch men into space, the FAI specified spaceflight guidelines.  One of the stipulations that the FAI carried over from aviation was that spacecraft pilots, like aircraft pilots should land inside their craft in order for the record to be valid.  In the case of aviation, this made perfect sense.  No one wanted to encourage pilots to sacrifice themselves for an aviation record.  Piloting an aircraft that could not land did nothing to further aeronautical engineering.

When Yuri Gagarin orbited the Earth on 12 April 1961, the plan had never been for him to land inside his Vostok spacecraft.  His spherical reentry capsule came through the Earth’s atmosphere on a ballistic trajectory.  Soviet engineers had not yet perfected a braking system that would slow the craft sufficiently for a human to survive impact.  They decided to eject the cosmonaut from his craft.  Yuri Gagarin ejected at 20,000 feet and landed safely on Earth.  Soviet engineers had not discussed this shortcoming with Soviet delegates to the FAI prior to his flight.  They prepared their documents for the FAI omitting this fact.  This led everyone to believe that Gagarin had landed inside his spacecraft.  It was not until four months later, when German Titov became the second human to orbit the Earth and the first person to spend a full day in space, when the controversy began to brew.  Titov owned up to ejecting himself.  This led to a special meeting of the delegates to the FAI to reexamine Titov’s spaceflight records.  The conclusion of the delegates was to rework the parameters of human spaceflight to recognize that the great technological accomplishment of spaceflight was the launch, orbiting and safe return of the human, not the manner in which he or she landed.  Gagarin and Titov’s records remained on the FAI books.  Even after Soviet -made models of the Vostok spacecraft  made it clear that the craft had no braking capability, the FAI created the Gagarin Medal that it awards annually to greatest aviation or space achievement of that year.

One should keep other examples of a sports federations’ reconsideration of rules in the face of new techniques and technologies in mind when considering the FAI Gagarin decision.  The underwater dolphin kick in freestyle swimming and the introduction of the clap skate in speed skating both caused initial international flaps.  After the respective sports federations voted to accept these changes, that ended the controversy.  Yes, Gagarin did not follow the rules that the FAI established before his flight.  However, as is true with any sports organization, the FAI reserved the right to reexamine and reinterpret its rules in light of new knowledge and circumstances.  Yuri Gagarin remains indisputably the first person in space and the concept that the first cosmonauts had to land inside their spacecraft is a faded artifact of the transition from aviation to spaceflight.

Cathleen S. Lewis is the curator of international space programs and spacesuits at the National Air and Space Museum.