Though this MIT report on the future of human spaceflight came out a few weeks ago, I haven’t yet taken the time to read it, other than to read through the summary, which I found underwhelming. Fortunately, Jim Oberg has, and explains why I did in today’s issue of The Space Review:
…it promotes some non-historic and deeply troubling myths of space policy that have led to grief in the past and, if accepted for future decisions, could serve as a roadmap for frustration and disaster.
Fundamentally, the sense of the report remains torn between opposing goals: using space in the “best interest of the United States”, and using space in the best interests of the world as a whole.
First, it falls for the classic wish-fulfillment fantasy that playing nice together in space—forming partnerships on significant space projects—can actually compel terrestrial nations to become more friendly to each other despite deep-seated conflicting goals. Second, the report promotes the view that the cost of large space projects can only be afforded if they are shared by an international alliance—contrary to all experience, including that of the ISS, that splitting national responsibilities for integrated projects makes them more expensive, not less. And thirdly, it promotes a dangerously diversionary and dead-ended theory for the root cause of space disasters such as the loss of the shuttle Columbia and its crew: that there was just not enough money, a factor that can easily be fixed by budgetary largesse. Using such views as foundations for policy decisions in the coming years can only result in more waste, more losses, and a lot more tears.
There are also lesser issues, which can be dealt with in a follow-on review. Fundamentally, the sense of the report remains torn between opposing goals: using space in the “best interest of the United States”, and using space in the best interests of the world as a whole. While not a zero-sum game, “space leadership” does tend to benefit those who have it over those who do not, mainly in curtailing options to the secondary players and compelling dependent status on them for important space functions (think GPS). And while selling a policy aimed at benefiting the paying country (the US) may have domestic political value, too nationalistic a sales job at home could make selling it to potential partners more awkward.
Yes, such reports by academics often have this aerie-faerie, kumbaya quality that is divorced from real history or the real world, as I noted a few years ago. As Oberg points out, this politically correct fetish for internationalism for internationalism’s sake has actually held us back and cost us more than going it alone would have, despite claims (i.e., false rationalizations) to the contrary. But as he also notes, there’s always another danger to these kinds of groupthink reports:
The report’s treatment of spaceflight safety is inexplicably muddled, considering the talent available to the group.
Ignoring the factual inaccuracies, I think that muddling is an almost inevitable consequence of report-by-committee, because it’s always hard to get full agreement and consensus on such things, and it can fall prey to the Committee Effect. I’m wondering how it was actually done. Was it a bunch of inputs that were stitched together, or did one person sit down, take the inputs provided, and try to put together a coherent story? The latter is much more difficult (for that one person) but the former rarely provides a coherent (or consistent or fully accurate) narrative. In any event, like most space policy reports of this kind (see Commission Report, Aldridge), it will simply be put on the shelf to collect dust. Which, in this case, might not be the worst thing.