Understanding the politics of the space race and American spaceflight through the wider lens of signaling, rather than prestige, allows for a new level of insight. As discussed in detail in the introduction, signaling is the process of a signaler credibly conveying information about itself to signal receivers. Good signals are costly to produce and thus can be credibly interpreted as indicating the possession of a vector of characteristics regarding the ability of the signaler to bear that cost; they are difficult to make and thus difficult to fake.34 The implied signaling characteristic of space exploration through its significant resource requirements has been alluded to by many of the historical figures of space exploration. Explicit application of signaling theory to our understanding of space exploration, however, will help clarify the concept’s explanatory value.
Let us examine a highly simplified example of space exploration’s ability to signal at the national level. Let us assume that agents, in this case nations, are considering alliance decisions. There are many nations making this decision, but only two countries with which these nations can choose to ally themselves. All nations would like to ally themselves with the stronger of the two countries. Assume, however, that the agents exist in a world of asymmetric information and have only imperfect information about which nation is strongest. These nations would screen for the strongest ally by looking for the most credible (costly) signals that would convey a vector of desired characteristics. These characteristics might include abundant wealth, ability to muster resources effectively, technological mastery, ability to handle risk, willingness for peaceful cooperation and competition, and other characteristics sought after in alliance partners. Now assume that there is a potential signaling activity that is strongly correlated with many of the commonly desired traits and that this signal can be easily and objectively measured. Assume also that these two key states would like to have as many allies as possible, that the two states are not interested in cooperating, and that these other nations are continually updating their alliance preferences based on the signaling activities of the two states. It should not take a formal model to see that the result would be the two nations investing in this signaling activity while the nations of the world observe their performance and modify their behavior with respect to the two nations in response to the signals. The simplistic model reflects the simplistic way in which such decisions can sometimes be made.
Now let us further assume that each nation’s actions are made up of some function of the weighted aggregate decisions of its individual citizens, a condition that also applies to the two key nation-states. The citizens of these two states also exist in a state of asymmetric information with regard to the qualities of their own nation and the qualities of the other leading nation. These citizens are also making alliance decisions of their own, primarily at the level of domestic politics. The costliness of the signal allows it to be interpreted by domestic citizens as a signal of a variety of domestic traits, including but not limited to competitiveness in foreign policy vis-à-vis the other state. It is also possible to credibly signal commitment to international cooperation or to industrial policies or a normative commitment to science, commerce, and other priorities, although the signal may be stronger (more closely correlated to the implied trait due to the type and magnitude of cost incurred) in some areas than in others. This signal is observed both by domestic and foreign observers over many sequences of decisions. This signal then, because of its high cost, visibility, and simple objective measurement, credibly transmits a vector of information about the signaling entity.
Space exploration can serve as such a signal because achievement is relatively objective, highly visible, and costly. Although the example has focused on the two-nation-states assumption, the signaling mechanism is scalable and generalizable for other scenarios as well. As Nobel Prize–winning economist Michael Spence points out, “the incentive to engage in activities that inform buyers is greatest for sellers with high quality products, but if they are successful, the incentive will trickle down through a spectrum of qualities.”35 The model is in fact scalable down to the level of the individual—the level for which signaling theory was initially developed—who is also looking to credibly signal his or her possession of traits (wealth, power, generosity, intellect) to broader society and to posterity, as could be seen in the signaling value attached to observatory investment by philanthropic patrons in search of recognition and legacy. This concept is a simplification of the complex set of political demands for space exploration, but it is a useful one. It provides a theoretical framework and a more nuanced context for understanding the political value of spaceflight and space exploration activities, and one that allows for a new perspective on the history of American spaceflight—from the bold nationalistic statement of the Apollo program to the cost-cutting compromise behind the creation of the International Space Station.
The political signaling value of space exploration was recognized well before the launch of Sputnik. In 1946, Project RAND, a think-tank formed within the Douglas Aircraft Company to provide policy analysis to the U.S. Armed Forces, published a report—its first ever—on the subject of a “Preliminary Design of an Experimental World-Circling Spaceship.” In the introduction to the report, David Griggs, the first head of the RAND Physics Department and later chief scientist of the air force, identified the potentially powerful psychosociological impact that such a satellite would have: “the achievement of a satellite craft by the United States would inflame the imagination of mankind, and would probably produce repercussions in the world comparable to the explosion of the atomic bomb.”36 The RAND study explicitly recognized that the first satellite would be interpreted as a general signal of national strength and world leadership. In a follow-up paper nine months after the initial report, James Lipp, head of Project RAND’s missile division, warned of the potentially dramatic consequences should the United States not be the first to achieve this feat: “Since mastery of the elements is a reliable index of material progress, the nation which first makes significant achievements in space travel will be acknowledged as the world leader in both military and scientific techniques. To visualize the impact on the world, one can imagine the consternation and admiration that would be felt here if the United States were to discover suddenly, that some other nation had already put up a successful satellite.”37 With RAND estimating a cost of $150 million in 1946—$11.9 billion dollars in 2015 GDP-ratio terms—the world-circling spaceship would indeed be a costly signal of technological capability.38 Confronted with the report and its high cost-estimate, officials within the Department of Defense rejected its conclusions. Secretary of Defense Erwin Wilson later characterized the satellite proposal as a useless stunt, saying that he would not be concerned if the Soviet Union achieved orbit first.39
In spite of this initial rebuff, the signaling value of the first spacecraft continued to be recognized within policy circles. In 1952, Aristid Grosse—physicist, president of the Temple University Research Institute in Philadelphia, and a member of Roosevelt’s initial committee to investigate the atomic bomb—was spurred by von Braun’s initial Collier’s article to approach President Truman regarding the need to analyze the potential implications of satellite and space station development in the Soviet Union. The result of Grosse’s initiative was a report that focused on the possibility of an unmanned satellite and concluded that a satellite launch “would be considered of utmost value by the members of the Soviet politburo” because of the signaling effect that such a satellite would have:
The satellite would have the enormous advantage of influencing the minds of millions of people the world over during the so-called period of “cold war.” . . . In the countries of Asia, where the star gazer since time immemorial has been influencing his countrymen, the spectacle of a man-made satellite would make a profound impression on the minds of the people. . . . Since the Soviet Union has been following us in the atomic and hydrogen bomb developments, it should not be excluded that the
politburo might like to take the lead in the development of the satellite. . . . If the Soviet Union should accomplish this ahead of us it would be a serious blow to the technical and engineering prestige of America the world over. It would be used by Soviet propaganda for all it is worth.40
Importantly, these early reports focused specifically on the signaling value of space exploration and what that signal would mean in a broader strategic context, as well as on the direct military implications of satellites.
The satellite program made use of the investments in missile development, but a clear distinction was maintained between the signaling and scientific aspects of a satellite and the direct military value of a missile program. By 1953, it was becoming apparent that nuclear bombs could be made light enough to be transported effectively by rockets. Furthermore, Department of Defense intelligence indicated that Soviet scientists were making significant progress with missile development. The air force assigned a ballistic missile program the highest priority, and the 1953 budget for the ICBM-IRBM program rose to over $1 million ($46 million as a 2015 GDP-ratio equivalent), and continued to increase thereafter.41 Relatively speaking, this was a minor expenditure, comparable to the early stage of the V-2 rocket in Germany a decade earlier. When Eisenhower gave public authorization for satellite work in 1955, he stressed that a satellite would be “strictly for scientific purposes” and of no particular urgency. The responsibility for the satellite was given to the Vanguard project from the Naval Research Lab, primarily so that it would not interfere with the ballistic missile efforts at Wernher von Braun’s army group, which were considered by far the higher priority.42
Eisenhower would later say that “our satellite program has never been conducted as a race with other nations.” 43 At the time, this was more or less true. Von Braun and his missile team certainly saw themselves in competition with the Soviet engineers for the prestige of the first satellite launch. At the secretary level and above, however, the space-related potential of rockets was of secondary importance to their value as ballistic missiles. Similarly, the signaling value of satellites was initially considered of secondary importance to their value as tools for military reconnaissance, with Eisenhower prioritizing the development of the top-secret air force spy-satellite program, WS-117L, over Vanguard. The first scientific satellite was considered to be a worthy project for the nation, but it did not require a race. This is underlined by the bureaucratic lines that prohibited von Braun from using the successful test of his Jupiter C rocket in 1956 from achieving the first satellite launch. Although von Braun was aware of the important signal that would result if he had been allowed to orbit the first spacecraft, the administration was not convinced that there was enough benefit to warrant overturning the established boundaries on the satellite project. Administrative propriety was of sufficient concern that von Braun’s group was ordered to ballast the inert fourth-stage motor of the Jupiter C with sand to ensure there was no “accidental” launch ahead of the Vanguard team. This was not because of arrogance that the Vanguard project would beat the Soviet Union, but simply due to the absence of a perceived urgent need, from either the president or the top military brass, to beat the Soviets in this endeavor.
There was as yet no demand for a large impressive signal vis-à-vis the Soviet Union—or at least no demand that it was believed a satellite could meet. This high-level lack of appreciation for the signaling value of a satellite was noted in the House Appropriations report on Project Vanguard written just after Sputnik: “The Vanguard Program was conceived in pre-Sputnik 1955 in an aura of unwarranted, but nonetheless real, national complacency concerning the technical supremacy of the United States.” 44 This reaction to Sputnik helps underline the transmission of information that was part of the achievement. It was not simply a prestigious act that damaged American pride. It also convinced many Americans—through the evidence provided by a single, small object—that it was in effect the unveiling of a major challenge to the overall technical supremacy of the United States. It was this perceived loss of supremacy that would create a strong political demand for U.S. space exploration where previous arguments had initially failed.45
The launching of Sputnik in 1957 provided a strong and credible signal to the world in both the political arena and the electromagnetic spectrum. One of the important features of the satellite was the fact that it contained a radio transmitter whose signal could be picked up by amateur radio operators and listening stations across the globe, with the result that the world could independently verify what the Soviets had accomplished. The political potency of Sputnik was thus amplified by its immediate and widespread verifiability during a time when the conditions of the Cold War led to significant information asymmetries and difficulties in accessing reliable information. In 1957, information on income distribution, economic indicators, and technologies, even for one’s own country, was relatively difficult to acquire. Information on social, political, and economic conditions was highly unreliable or sparse in many parts of the world and was particularly opaque across the borders of the Cold War. Statistical information on the Soviet Union was often nonexistent, and when it was present, it was difficult to trust. Moreover, books, radio, local newspapers, and word of mouth, which were the primary means of conveying information, could not easily traverse the political censorship and linguistic barriers between the Soviet Union and the West.
In contrast to the difficulty in obtaining reliable economic information across the boundaries of the Cold War, spacecraft were uniquely visible. A RAND / Rockefeller Foundation Conference in Washington in 1959 on “International Political Implications of Outer Space” stated that the unique visibility of space exploration made it of greater political importance than might otherwise have been the case. This visibility stemmed not only from the significant coverage of the event in the media or from the literal visibility of satellites—often it was the upper stage of the delivering launch vehicle that was seen by observers—it also stemmed from the global visibility of the heavens. Space is the only theater for which the entire world has essentially the same view. As such, the socioeconomic information encoded in Sputnik was more or less equally available to people at any major population center of the planet. In the pre-Internet era, no other signal had such widespread empirical verifiability. The psychological impact of the Sputnik moment was intense, as not only does the theater of space provide all viewers with equal visibility but it also positions them with the same perspective—looking up from the ground in wonder. The legendary, religious, and primal associations of the night sky served to further amplify the informational signal of Soviet technical power and mastery over the world.
Within this context of information asymmetry, the launch of Sputnik, verifiable simply by observing its flight across the night sky, was a credible signal to the entire world that the Soviet Union was the world leader in an advanced technology. It was undeniable that the launch of the world’s first spaceship required significant intellectual and physical resources as well as a sophisticated command-and-control infrastructure. With limited information available on actual conditions in Russia, it also implied a more advanced economy, educational system, and, most importantly, military capacity than had previously been assumed. Literally overnight, with one signaling action, the global perception of the general ability of the Soviet Union increased substantially to the point where many now questioned the supremacy of the United States. If all one knows for certain about a nation is that it has been able to achieve the expensive and hitherto impossible act of launching an Earth-orbiting satellite, then that in itself is a credible signal that it is a very significant power. As Gabriel Almond, one of the fathers of modern comparative political science, observed in 1960, “In general, we may say that space competition has an importance for public opinion that is perhaps out of proportion to its over-all technological and military significance. That is to say, there is a tendency in popular opinion to take the space competition sector as indicative of over-all tec
hnological and military strength.” 46 Because achievements in space were objective measures of social characteristics—at least in terms of technological ability, economic resources, and political will—they became a proxy measure for national standing at a time when other potential metrics were more difficult to measure.
The low-key response of the Eisenhower administration to Sputnik is consistent with an understanding of events based on signaling, since it demonstrates that the signal had the greatest impact for those who had the most significant information asymmetries regarding the Soviet Union. Eisenhower initially sought to publicly dismiss the significance of Sputnik, calling it just “one small ball in the air.” 47 This was more than sheer bravado for the media. It also reflected Eisenhower’s knowledge that his own plans were well advanced for a spy satellite to go beyond the U-2 planes. As commander in chief, Eisenhower had much better access to information and was thus able to judge the more fine grained reality of Soviet capabilities and to measure them in the broader context of the American economy. He underscored this in an article in The Saturday Evening Post after he left office. He suggested that other items be included in the “prestige race” with the Soviet Union, such as “our unique industrial accomplishments, our cars for almost everybody instead of just a favored few, our remarkable agricultural productivity, our supermarkets loaded with a profusion of appetizing foods.” 48 Although all of these were more or less visible and objective measures of social achievement to Americans, few had firsthand or even reliable secondhand knowledge of these variables elsewhere in the world. The State Department’s USIA wrote in an October 17, 1957, memo entitled “World Opinion and the Soviet Satellite: A Preliminary Evaluation” that “the technologically less advanced—the audience most impressed and dazzled by the Sputnik—are the audience most vulnerable to the attractions of the Soviet system. . . . The satellite, presented as the achievement and symbolic vindication of the Soviet system, helps to lend credence to Soviet claims.” 49 Space exploration achievements, unlike anecdotal reports on stocks of supermarket goods, could be verified by radar systems and radio communication. In the new, postcolonial states that were the battleground of the Cold War, the paucity of available information on relative economic and social conditions in the United States and the Soviet Union made the Sputnik signal all the more powerful. Eisenhower did not seem to recognize the central information transmission aspect of Sputnik, viewing it instead within a more nebulous prestige context, and as a result he underappreciated the event’s significance.
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