The Long Space Age

by Alexander MacDonald

  The idea that signaling is the basis of trade between the intrinsically motivated supply side of the spaceflight production equation and the politically motivated demand side provides a basic model—at least for government-funded space exploration—that, though simple, is still more instructive than the “prestige thesis” that has often been dominant in the explanation of the space race. William Sims Bainbridge’s The Spaceflight Revolution: A Sociological Study, which details the myriad techniques that the engineer-entrepreneurs and other early spaceflight advocates used to acquire the resources for their projects, notes how “the spacemen” manipulated politicians’ concerns over “the nebulous heavens of international prestige” and were able to “sell false solutions,” since, as he puts it, America did not seem to have benefited from successfully landing on the Moon.127 Though there is a great deal of insightful observation and argument in his work, it brings to mind the original etymology of “prestige” as a sleight of hand, as does Gerard DeGroot in The Dark Side of the Moon when he claims that the Apollo program was a “brilliant deception” and a “glorious swindle.”128 Although there is certainly some truth to Bainbridge’s opening statement, that it was “not the public will but private fanaticism that drove men to the moon,” it is a mistake to ignore or deny the political value that space exploration had in the context of the Cold War.129 If we leave behind the concept of prestige, however, and build on a framework that recognizes the signaling characteristic of spaceflight, it becomes possible to recognize both the driving importance of the intrinsic interests of the spaceflight pioneers and advocates, and the political value that was obtained by allocating resources toward a strong spaceflight-related signal. Viewed from this perspective, the Cold War American space exploration program was the result of a grand bargain that bridged the supply and demand sides of the spaceflight production equation at an unprecedented scale.

  In understanding the space race and the lunar landings as part of a signaling process, it is also important to recognize the unique conditions that made that initial grand bargain possible. It was a rare conjuncture of technological events and geopolitical circumstances that allowed space exploration activities to develop at such a rapid pace in the middle of the twentieth century. The space race was also enabled by an expansionary postwar global economy, with especially strong growth in American GDP in the 1960s, which made the massive expenditures required to produce the costly spaceflight signals both affordable and politically salable. Space-exploration-related expenditures in the 1960s could thus be viewed more enthusiastically than would be the case during the oil price shocks and stagflation of the 1970s or the anxious concern over the U.S. deficit in the 1990s. Not only was the Apollo program at the crest of the momentum of the first generation of spaceflight pioneers, it came at a point when their activities had immense perceived and real political value, allowing for a large-scale exchange of resources for signaling goods between politicians and the spaceflight industry. While spaceflight accomplishments continue to have real signaling value, the heightened political demands that drove the extraordinary growth of the American space industry in the 1950s and 1960s have dissipated and may not coalesce again in the near future.

  From this perspective, the Apollo program should not be seen as the classic model of American space exploration, but rather as an anomaly. From a long-run historical perspective, this “Apollo Anomaly” represented an exciting new paradigm for American space exploration, but ultimately a short-lived and ephemeral one. NASA and the American spaceflight community have continued to try to emulate the superficial conditions of the anomaly—with new presidential directions and planetary destinations—in the hope that the anomalous funding, appetite for risk, and political momentum will return, but to no avail. It is not due to a lack of direction or leadership that American astronauts have not left low-Earth orbit in over forty years. In a world with easier access to information, to the point of ubiquitous information overload, the signaling value of space exploration has diminished. NASA has correspondingly received a fairly stable and substantial budget over the past few decades—the national luxury of spaceflight, having been acquired, remains a political necessity—but nothing comparable to the peak that it experienced during the Apollo program.

  There may, however, be some benefits to the decreased signaling value of spaceflight. If the nature of a strong signal is in part that it is costly to produce, then it has at least in part been the expense of spaceflight that has thus far provided much of its enduring political value. Yet many of those men and women who have, throughout the century or so since Goddard’s first experiments, contributed to the development of spaceflight have themselves desired to travel into space and have not: the cost has thus far been prohibitive for the vast majority of them, and the incentives have not effectively aligned within the government to substantially reduce the cost of spaceflight. As the signaling value of spaceflight decreases, it becomes more apparent to intrinsically motivated spaceflight engineers and entrepreneurs that the future of space exploration—and their personal potential to experience it—under wholly governmental auspices may be limited, and they may begin to seek out and cultivate other patrons. As happened in the early twentieth century for Goddard and in the nineteenth century with astronomical observatories, some of these efforts have been successful, and patrons in the private sector have once again begun to resume some of their traditional historical role in the funding and pursuit of American space exploration. In the conclusion we will consider what the combination of the different phenomena explored in this book—signaling, intrinsic motivations, and the long shifting history of public and private funding for space exploration—means for the future.

  THE NEXT SPACE PATRONS

  Mankind will not remain forever confined to the Earth. In pursuit of light and space it will, timidly at first, probe the limits of the atmosphere and later extend its control to the entire solar system.

  —Konstantin Tsiolkovsky, Letter to B. N. Vorobyev, 1911

  What do we learn from this long-run perspective on American space exploration? How does it change our understanding of the history of spaceflight? How does it change our understanding of the present? This book has provided an economic perspective on two centuries of history, with examinations of early American observatories, the rocket development program of Robert Goddard, and the political history of the space race. Although the subjects covered have been wide-ranging, together they present a new view of American space history, one that challenges the dominant narrative of space exploration as an inherently governmental activity. From them a new narrative emerges, that of the Long Space Age, a narrative that in the longue durée reveals personal initiative to have been the wellspring of American space exploration activities for over a century before the Space Age and that shows signaling-based political support to be dramatic but short-lived in comparison with the long history of private funding.

  Together, these studies argue for a reorientation of the overall economic narrative of American space exploration. By focusing more attention on the extensive history of activities in the pre–Space Age era it becomes clear that private funding and intrinsic motivations have played a much greater role than have generally been considered—comparable at times to space exploration’s considerable political value as a signaling device. Though its political signaling value has been the principal source of demand for the grandest spaceflight efforts, it is also a value that is temporary and fleeting when considered in historical perspective. The more persistent long-run forces are those of individual passions and intrinsic motivations, in private pursuit of the dream of a future in space. In its full historical context, American space exploration is more often a private initiative than a governmental one.

  Examining the history of the Long Space Age as a whole presents three important and related insights. Perhaps the most unexpected discovery has been the empirical evidence concerning the long-run importance of private funding in the financing of American space expl
oration—the precedent of privately funded hundred-million-dollar and even billion-dollar resource-share-equivalent space exploration projects in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. This shows that the twenty-first-century trend of wealthy individuals, such as Paul Allen, Jeff Bezos, and Elon Musk, devoting some of their resources to the exploration of space is not an emerging one. Rather it is a persistent, enduring trend that is now reemerging. These men are space entrepreneurs and patrons in the long tradition of James Lick, George Ellery Hale, Andrew Carnegie, and Harry Guggenheim. After an important but comparatively brief period of geopolitical space theater during the Cold War, these new explorers of the heavens are placing their bets, dedicating their resources, and picking up where their predecessors left off. This is the heart of the Long Space Age—that in the long historical perspective, the American movement out into space is much more than the story of “one giant leap” by its government in service of geopolitical competition; it is a cumulative story of the many small steps of its people, some taken with the support of their government, but many of the most important supported by private resources and individual will alone.

  The expenditure data collected for astronomical observatories and Goddard’s programs, along with NASA’s programmatic history, also suggest that there has been significant volatility in long-run space exploration expenditures, often with a sharp expenditure peak, followed by a decline. The histograms of total U.S. observatory expenditures revealed this pattern, with peaks in the 1840s, 1870s, and 1920s, followed by decades of relative decline. These peaks correspond to the culmination of the American Observatory Movement, the founding of the Lick Observatory, and the founding of the Palomar Observatory, respectively. On a smaller scale, Goddard experienced a number of revenue peaks during the course of his program, in 1918, during the First World War, when working for the U.S. Army Signal Corps; in 1931, with the first grant from Daniel Guggenheim; and in 1942, during the Second World War, when working for the navy’s Bureau of Aeronautics. NASA also experienced a significant funding peak during the Apollo program, reaching its maximum height of expenditure in 1965, which was subsequently followed by a sharp decline in the 1970s. Together, the data suggest that the time evolution of American space exploration expenditures has included significant variation for almost two centuries, and that continued peaks and troughs in expenditures should be expected. It is worth noting that the peaks identified were the result of roughly three types of activity: an elite social movement, individual large private-sector investments, and geopolitical conflict.

  Despite the repeated peaks and troughs of expenditures, however, the persistence of private-sector and intrinsic support throughout the Long Space Age also suggest that the cultural momentum of spaceflight is far from expended. Although some of the political momentum may have ebbed, when single individuals, either through financial or intellectual resources, are able to direct historical development, cultural influences and personal motivations can become more important than geopolitics or financial incentives. The driving forces of spaceflight can thus be seen as a set of personal urges and passions. As Arthur C. Clarke put it, “Any ‘reasons’ we may give for wanting to cross space are afterthoughts, excuses tacked on because we feel we ought, rationally, to have them. They are true but superfluous, except for the practical value they may have when we try to enlist the support of those who may not share our particular enthusiasm for astronautics, yet can appreciate the benefits which it may bring, and the repercussions these will have upon the causes for which they, too, feel deeply.”1 This personal, intrinsic value gives spaceflight activities an enduring robustness. As long as there are individuals who desire to fulfill the vision of a space-faring future for themselves and for humanity, and who possess the requisite resources, talent, and willpower, the Long Space Age is far from over.

  In addition to these insights into the historical patterns of American space exploration expenditures, there are a few lessons learned that are relevant for current issues in space policy. One is that the regular creation of new institutions has been an important feature of American space history. The history of American astronomy is in part a history of the new astronomical institutions that were established and that supported researchers with funds and facilities; the Harvard College Observatory, the Lick Observatory, the Mount Wilson Observatory, and the Palomar Observatory are four examples that remain active and important institutions of American astronomy today. Although John Quincy Adams failed in his initial attempt to create a national observatory, his efforts led to the creation of the Smithsonian, which became the first federal institution to invest in spaceflight technology development when it supported Goddard’s research in 1917. In this context, NASA appears not as the sole defining institution of American space exploration, but rather as one institution among many—one with a changing role and identity as the political environment, U.S. aerospace industrial base, and private-sector ambitions and capabilities change around it. It is far from inconceivable to envision that NASA, as a federal institution, might experience further institutional evolution. NASA may have started out as an organization responsible for the development and operation of its own launch vehicles and spacecraft, but perhaps in the future it may focus more on its robotic and human space exploration missions while transitioning launch-vehicle development and operation to the private sector—particularly if the relevant private-sector entities continue to build on the lead they have recently developed over the government in the area of reusable launch systems, which have the potential to significantly reduce the cost of spaceflight. It is worth noting that intrinsically motivated individuals who desire to personally explore and travel through space tend to be very interested in reducing the cost of spaceflight so that they can do more of it.

  The long-run history of American space exploration should teach us to see these transitions—the rise of new institutions and the transformation of old ones—as part of the natural course of American space development. The American space community would do well to accept this historical fact and perhaps spend less time and energy worrying about how to preserve and rehabilitate old institutions and more effort on encouraging the emergence of new institutions of American space exploration that could provide new impetus amid the current circumstances and opportunities. It is worth noting that a large fraction of the institutions that have had the longest-lived influence—the Lick Observatory, the Mount Wilson Observatory, the Smithsonian—have been independently established with ample endowments each provided by a single wealthy philanthropist who had the objective of creating a permanent legacy.

  American space exploration has been the product of a multiplicity of people and projects over decades and centuries that have evolved over time into a network of public and private interests and institutions. At times, private interests and institutions have had the strongest influence within the network, such as during the Observatory Movement or the private funding of Robert Goddard, and at other times it has been public interests and institutions that have been strongest, such as during the Cold War or Goddard’s military funding. Understanding space exploration as the product of networks of public and private actors highlights the ability of administrations and individuals to create new nodes and dynamics within these networks in order to advance objectives in space. As Bromberg has pointed out in NASA and the Space Industry, NASA itself is a consummate example of a public-private innovation network, with its missions produced by a combination of government civil servants and private-sector workers.2 New billionaire-backed private-sector space companies and projects thus do not reinvent space exploration out of whole cloth, but rather they add new nodes to an existing network that has been evolving for over a hundred years. Their value then is not necessarily that they are more efficient or innovative than governmental efforts. Rather, it is that they increase the diversity and complexity of the overall network of production and therefore contribute to its strength, by, for example, counteracting trends toward consolidation in t
he aerospace industry, by creating a multiplicity of human spaceflight organizational cultures, and by resisting the tendency within governmental engineering and scientific-research organizations, such as NASA, to primarily back their own projects. Furthermore, the creation of new private institutions of space exploration can, under certain circumstances, be considered endogenous variables. History shows that billionaire interest in space exploration is something that can be cultivated. Hale cultivated Carnegie’s interest, and Goddard and Lindbergh cultivated Guggenheim’s. There is much to learn about the practical techniques of motivating grand new projects of space exploration in the correspondence of these early space entrepreneurs, with their extensive networks of patrons and friends, and the long list of private-sector projects that have been encouraged in this way suggests that, at least in part, it will be through similar such relationships and efforts that future space exploration projects will emerge.