Space.MSNBC.com: Science shortfalls limit NASA spaceflight ambitions
Nearly 50 years after the first human spaceflight, NASA is in poor shape to send astronauts on long deep-space voyages because the agency's life and physical sciences program has shrunk dramatically in both size and scope in recent years, a new report suggests.
However, NASA could achieve the insights and breakthroughs needed to send humans deeper into space than ever before – including to Mars – if the agency supports its life and physical sciences program with strong leadership and stable funding, according to the National Research Council report.
The report, titled "Recapturing a Future for Space Exploration: Life and Physical Sciences for a New Era," was released Tuesday by the council to help set an agenda for research in the next decade.
NASA's human spaceflight future
NASA's success in human space exploration to date has depended on strong programs studying important questions in life and physical sciences. A forward-looking portfolio of such research could help lead to interplanetary voyages and advance fundamental knowledge of life, materials and technology that can lead to spinoff benefits on Earth, the report noted.
However, several years of budgetary challenges and priority being given to other programs at NASA have left the agency's life and physical sciences program with no clear institutional home and led it to dwindle significantly, according to the committee that wrote the report. As a result, NASA is now in poor shape to take full advantage of the unparalleled opportunities presented by the International Space Station's laboratory environment.
"At some point in the 2001-2002 time frame, life and physical sciences research was an integrated program, receiving about $500 million per year," said Elizabeth Cantwell, co-chair of the committee that wrote the report and director of mission development at Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory in California. "There were a number of reorganizations and changes between then and 2010, with the biggest change in the 2006-2007 timeframe, and a number of lines of research were either parceled out to new management structures or eliminated."
"It's hard to track how much funding was eliminated, but it looks like it's down to $150 million to $200 million, so a lot of fundamental research was cut," Cantwell told Space.com.
Leadership is key
Strong leadership with scientific know-how is needed to highlight just how important life and physical sciences are in human exploration and help give it the clout it requires, the committee wrote. The report concludes that re-establishing the program under a single management structure housed in an appropriate part of the agency will be key to the program's success, although the committee makes no recommendations as to what that place might be. In addition, they add that a stable and adequate funding base is needed to support a robust research program that attracts top scientists.
"A focused life and physical sciences program can make possible the achievements that bring the space community, policymakers and the U.S. public to a realization that we are ready for the next significant phase of human space exploration," Cantwell said.
Among the areas that the report recommended future life and physical science research at NASA should concentrate on included:
--An effective countermeasures program to fight the adverse effects of the space environment on the health and performance capabilities of astronauts, which would make prolonged human space exploration missions possible.
--The effect that gravity or lack thereof has on biology, a deeper understanding of which could not only help astronauts fight loss of bone in microgravity but also perhaps slow the loss of bone with aging.
-Orbital fuel depots for cryogenic rocket fuels.
-Collecting or producing large amounts of water on the moon or Mars.
-Advances stemming from research on fire retardants, fire suppression, fire sensors and combustion in microgravity that provide the basis for a comprehensive fire-safety system, greatly reducing the likelihood of a catastrophe.
-Regenerative fuel cells that can provide power for long periods at high rates, of use not only in the dark on the surface of the moon but potentially on Earth.
"Research in the life and physical sciences can enable space missions and, as a unique benefit, there is critical research that can in turn be enabled on Earth by access to space," said Wendy Kohrt, professor at the University of Colorado, Denver, and co-chair of the committee that wrote the report. "With the advantage of the space environment, we believe there is an opportunity to significantly advance fundamental scientific understanding."
The committee that wrote the report has met with NASA and congressional staffers about their findings. "It's being taken seriously," Cantwell said. "The challenge they have to take into consideration is how we make the next decade or two decades of important research happen, to keep human space exploration not just in existence but moving forward."
Rabu, 06 April 2011
Senin, 04 April 2011
EU wants better space cooperation with China
EU wants better space cooperation with China
The European Union announced Monday that it wants to improve cooperation with China on space exploration and technology.
But one expert in the field said China is catching up quickly with the EU and should be regarded as an ever-stronger competitor in the field.
EU Industry Commissioner Antonio Tajani said the space initiatives should become an integral part of EU foreign policy, making it all the more important to improve cooperation with China, which has a rapidly developing space policy.
Advertisement: Story continues below The EU said it wants to develop its links in the field of satellite navigation.
China launched its first manned flight in 2003 and plans an unmanned moon landing next year and a space station later. Within years, it has become a major player in space technology, while the EU has lost some its edge over protracted political haggling related to its Galileo satellite navigation system.
Now the European Commission wants to boost the industry again to increase economic output.
"Space is strategic for Europe's independence, job creation and competitiveness," Tajani said in Frascati, Italy. In his outline for the 27 EU member states, he called for outreach programs with "emerging space powers," specifically China.
After being an investment partner in Galileo, China has developed its own Beidou, or "Compass," navigation system and has been in conflict with the EU over radio frequency overlap. It is increasingly seen as a test of wills.
"We have had more competition than cooperation," said Jonathan Holslag, a research fellow at the Institute for Contemporary China Studies at the University of Brussels. "The Beidou initiative is extremely important. Their development is extremely fast, while the EU has been bogged down in administration and political games."
The EU does not want to back down though. Both the EU and France came out in defense of maintaining the European system and set it as a priority for the next years.
Even though Europe still has an edge in many areas, it also shows that international cooperation is necessary to secure its own future.
Currently, the EU space industry has euro5.4 billion ($7.7 billion) in revenue. The EU expects that the market for global satellite navigation systems will reach an annual global turnover of euro240 billion ($342 billion) in 10 years.
The European Union announced Monday that it wants to improve cooperation with China on space exploration and technology.
But one expert in the field said China is catching up quickly with the EU and should be regarded as an ever-stronger competitor in the field.
EU Industry Commissioner Antonio Tajani said the space initiatives should become an integral part of EU foreign policy, making it all the more important to improve cooperation with China, which has a rapidly developing space policy.
Advertisement: Story continues below The EU said it wants to develop its links in the field of satellite navigation.
China launched its first manned flight in 2003 and plans an unmanned moon landing next year and a space station later. Within years, it has become a major player in space technology, while the EU has lost some its edge over protracted political haggling related to its Galileo satellite navigation system.
Now the European Commission wants to boost the industry again to increase economic output.
"Space is strategic for Europe's independence, job creation and competitiveness," Tajani said in Frascati, Italy. In his outline for the 27 EU member states, he called for outreach programs with "emerging space powers," specifically China.
After being an investment partner in Galileo, China has developed its own Beidou, or "Compass," navigation system and has been in conflict with the EU over radio frequency overlap. It is increasingly seen as a test of wills.
"We have had more competition than cooperation," said Jonathan Holslag, a research fellow at the Institute for Contemporary China Studies at the University of Brussels. "The Beidou initiative is extremely important. Their development is extremely fast, while the EU has been bogged down in administration and political games."
The EU does not want to back down though. Both the EU and France came out in defense of maintaining the European system and set it as a priority for the next years.
Even though Europe still has an edge in many areas, it also shows that international cooperation is necessary to secure its own future.
Currently, the EU space industry has euro5.4 billion ($7.7 billion) in revenue. The EU expects that the market for global satellite navigation systems will reach an annual global turnover of euro240 billion ($342 billion) in 10 years.
Jumat, 01 April 2011
Fallen giant: The Soviet space industry
Ria Novosti, Features & Opinion Page: Fallen giant: The Soviet space industry
Ordinary Russians see little connection between space exploration and economics. If anything, they see expensive space programs as a permanent drain on the nation’s resources. Some are inclined to take it personally, as if the dark vacuum of space somehow sucked the money right out of their pockets.
Space is beyond the realm of the rational and, therefore, beyond the realm of economics. But Russia’s space program was built, in part, by ordinary Russians using ordinary steel. Space exploration was considered a national priority in the Soviet Union, with the funding to match. Elaborate production chains were set up, the necessary infrastructure was built, and state-of-the-art technologies were developed virtually from scratch. Aerospace specialists were paid stable salaries and received good housing, both of which were in short supply in the command economy of the Soviet Union. But it wasn’t just about the money for them. By their own account, they worked to experience the thrill of creative endeavor and to feel a sense of confidence about the future.
Three megaprojects, in particular, made an enormous contribution to the development of Soviet production and technical expertise. They were the three horses that pulled the Soviet troika into the future.
The nuclear project was managed by Igor Kurchatov, Igor Tamm and Yuly Khariton. The space rocket project was led by Sergei Korolyov, Valentin Glushko, Vladimir Chelomei and Mikhail Yangel. The aerospace defense project utilized surface-to-air missile systems developed by Pyotr Grushin and Lev Lyulyev, under the supervision of Alexander Raspletin. Anatoly Basistov and Grigory Kisunko helped create a missile-defense system around Moscow. Moreover, Aksel Berg and Alexander Mints contributed to the creation of over-the-horizon radar.
By the late 1940s, thirty years had passed since the Bolsheviks took power and set about transforming a largely agrarian country into an industrial power. Moreover, the Soviet Union had just emerged victorious from the most destructive war in history. But the three horses of the Soviet troika galloped ahead so fast that here was hardly any time to stop and admire the results. Enormous challenges were laid before Soviet scientists, and they proved themselves up to the task.
The existence of nuclear physicists in the Soviet Union was an open secret, but no one knew about the missile-defense specialists who had worked in secret since the 1950s until the collapse of the Soviet Union. In recent years, publications about their herculean efforts have begun to appear.
The Soviet space program symbolized the victory of brains and willpower over a seemingly insurmountable legacy of technical and economic backwardness under the tsars.
Last train to the sky
The Soviet space program was immensely popular. People followed news of new launches with rapt attention. Cosmonauts could not go anywhere without being recognized. Rocket and spacecraft designers were supposed to keep a low profile and inhabit their own private world. They even used pseudonyms to join the Soviet Academy of Sciences.
But the results of their work were hard not to notice. They merged technologies and established production chains at countless plants, research institutes, design bureaus and scientific associations. Affiliated companies sprung up all across the nation, from the Baltic republics to Russia’s Far East. Leading research and production facilities came and went, establishing various co-production arrangements in their own interests. Enterprises were built and commissioned, matter-of-factly manufacturing products unheard of only five years ago.
The government lavished money on the space industry. In return, it was supposed to stun the world with tangible results, regardless of the price.
As the years went by, this young and vibrant industry grew ossified. Its intellectual centers were covered over with a crust of “specialized agencies.” These centers fenced themselves off from rivals with “planned research subjects” and fancy titles like “lead project manager.” Designers were given state awards and prizes, while rank-and-file employees were rewarded with quarterly and annual bonuses. Intrigues were commonplace, causing heart attacks for the people involved. The entire design and production process involved hundreds of thousands of people operating machine-tools and working at drawing boards for decades on end. Everything changed, except that the Soviet state invariably paid for results, allowing people to devote themselves entirely to their work.
Anatoly Basistov, the father of the A-135 missile-defense system around Moscow, rebelled against the bureaucratic logic of the late 1970s. At the time, the general contractor was expected to request the maximum possible resources for its subordinate science-and-production agencies. Basistov told the Soviet leadership that he was unable to develop a system that would completely shield Moscow from nuclear warheads. Basistov was horrified to realize that if he said he could do it, the Politburo would provide him with however many billions from the budget, without giving second thought to what else the money could be used for.
Rocket-and-missile experts, radio electronic system designers and nuclear physicists lived in a world of unlimited responsibility for unlimited results, to be obtained using limited resources and under tough deadlines. They lived that way for decades, growing accustomed to walls separating them from the rest of the country. It would be blasphemy to say that they lived and worked in ideal conditions. It would be double blasphemy to claim that they did not realize that such work deprived the entire nation of something highly important. And it would be naïve to believe that this situation could continue indefinitely.
Much has already been said about the economic implications of the U.S. space program. There is no need to go into details here. Suffice it to recall Teflon and Velcro, which became household names. Both were by-products of the Apollo lunar program. The Soviet Union, in contrast, was capable of coming up with fantastic engineering solutions but cared little about their consumer value and possible civilian applications.
The Soviet Union turned its hi-tech industry into a deadly “blade” to accomplish just one objective. But the “blade” did not always serve as the extension of the economic “hand,” except when it was needed to create another defense-industry miracle.
Its capacity for working miracles disappeared in the 1990s when the colossal monolith crumbled along with the system that had spawned it, leaving a sea of bitterness and grudges in its wake, as well as nostalgia for a lost paradise for engineers and technicians.
A bad hangover
Imagine the shock when two or three generations of specialists, who were convinced that that they are the best of the best in the most advanced fields, suddenly see their situation change 180 degrees overnight.
After Russia embarked on the road to a market economy, these specialists were told that the country no longer needed their work, that too much had already been spent on them. They were also told that they had to adapt to the market system in the next five years, including by selling their products wherever they could.
You can turn a blind eye to technology, but you can’t abolish it completely. In 1993, the national aerospace industry asserted itself on the commercial space-launch market. It took the industry a lot of time and effort to adapt to the realities of the market economy, losing human resources, production facilities, experience, knowledge and hope in the process.
These strong and proud people had flown too close to the Sun, or rather they had brought the Sun too close to their pedestrian and sinful fellow humans. The fall of the aerospace industry was cruelly sobering after several decades of intoxication with the limitless possibilities afforded under the Soviet space program.
The seeds of the Soviet space industry’s tragic downfall had been sown in its very creation. It could not have been otherwise. Without those fatal flaws it would have never emerged, and would have failed to accomplish all those stunning feats that won respect world over.
Even the Soviet Union, with its supposedly developed socialist society, could not escape the Darwinist dialectic. Highly specialized “species” are unavoidably doomed to a bright, albeit brief, existence when the environment to which they were so perfectly adapted vanishes in an instant.
Ordinary Russians see little connection between space exploration and economics. If anything, they see expensive space programs as a permanent drain on the nation’s resources. Some are inclined to take it personally, as if the dark vacuum of space somehow sucked the money right out of their pockets.
Space is beyond the realm of the rational and, therefore, beyond the realm of economics. But Russia’s space program was built, in part, by ordinary Russians using ordinary steel. Space exploration was considered a national priority in the Soviet Union, with the funding to match. Elaborate production chains were set up, the necessary infrastructure was built, and state-of-the-art technologies were developed virtually from scratch. Aerospace specialists were paid stable salaries and received good housing, both of which were in short supply in the command economy of the Soviet Union. But it wasn’t just about the money for them. By their own account, they worked to experience the thrill of creative endeavor and to feel a sense of confidence about the future.
Three megaprojects, in particular, made an enormous contribution to the development of Soviet production and technical expertise. They were the three horses that pulled the Soviet troika into the future.
The nuclear project was managed by Igor Kurchatov, Igor Tamm and Yuly Khariton. The space rocket project was led by Sergei Korolyov, Valentin Glushko, Vladimir Chelomei and Mikhail Yangel. The aerospace defense project utilized surface-to-air missile systems developed by Pyotr Grushin and Lev Lyulyev, under the supervision of Alexander Raspletin. Anatoly Basistov and Grigory Kisunko helped create a missile-defense system around Moscow. Moreover, Aksel Berg and Alexander Mints contributed to the creation of over-the-horizon radar.
By the late 1940s, thirty years had passed since the Bolsheviks took power and set about transforming a largely agrarian country into an industrial power. Moreover, the Soviet Union had just emerged victorious from the most destructive war in history. But the three horses of the Soviet troika galloped ahead so fast that here was hardly any time to stop and admire the results. Enormous challenges were laid before Soviet scientists, and they proved themselves up to the task.
The existence of nuclear physicists in the Soviet Union was an open secret, but no one knew about the missile-defense specialists who had worked in secret since the 1950s until the collapse of the Soviet Union. In recent years, publications about their herculean efforts have begun to appear.
The Soviet space program symbolized the victory of brains and willpower over a seemingly insurmountable legacy of technical and economic backwardness under the tsars.
Last train to the sky
The Soviet space program was immensely popular. People followed news of new launches with rapt attention. Cosmonauts could not go anywhere without being recognized. Rocket and spacecraft designers were supposed to keep a low profile and inhabit their own private world. They even used pseudonyms to join the Soviet Academy of Sciences.
But the results of their work were hard not to notice. They merged technologies and established production chains at countless plants, research institutes, design bureaus and scientific associations. Affiliated companies sprung up all across the nation, from the Baltic republics to Russia’s Far East. Leading research and production facilities came and went, establishing various co-production arrangements in their own interests. Enterprises were built and commissioned, matter-of-factly manufacturing products unheard of only five years ago.
The government lavished money on the space industry. In return, it was supposed to stun the world with tangible results, regardless of the price.
As the years went by, this young and vibrant industry grew ossified. Its intellectual centers were covered over with a crust of “specialized agencies.” These centers fenced themselves off from rivals with “planned research subjects” and fancy titles like “lead project manager.” Designers were given state awards and prizes, while rank-and-file employees were rewarded with quarterly and annual bonuses. Intrigues were commonplace, causing heart attacks for the people involved. The entire design and production process involved hundreds of thousands of people operating machine-tools and working at drawing boards for decades on end. Everything changed, except that the Soviet state invariably paid for results, allowing people to devote themselves entirely to their work.
Anatoly Basistov, the father of the A-135 missile-defense system around Moscow, rebelled against the bureaucratic logic of the late 1970s. At the time, the general contractor was expected to request the maximum possible resources for its subordinate science-and-production agencies. Basistov told the Soviet leadership that he was unable to develop a system that would completely shield Moscow from nuclear warheads. Basistov was horrified to realize that if he said he could do it, the Politburo would provide him with however many billions from the budget, without giving second thought to what else the money could be used for.
Rocket-and-missile experts, radio electronic system designers and nuclear physicists lived in a world of unlimited responsibility for unlimited results, to be obtained using limited resources and under tough deadlines. They lived that way for decades, growing accustomed to walls separating them from the rest of the country. It would be blasphemy to say that they lived and worked in ideal conditions. It would be double blasphemy to claim that they did not realize that such work deprived the entire nation of something highly important. And it would be naïve to believe that this situation could continue indefinitely.
Much has already been said about the economic implications of the U.S. space program. There is no need to go into details here. Suffice it to recall Teflon and Velcro, which became household names. Both were by-products of the Apollo lunar program. The Soviet Union, in contrast, was capable of coming up with fantastic engineering solutions but cared little about their consumer value and possible civilian applications.
The Soviet Union turned its hi-tech industry into a deadly “blade” to accomplish just one objective. But the “blade” did not always serve as the extension of the economic “hand,” except when it was needed to create another defense-industry miracle.
Its capacity for working miracles disappeared in the 1990s when the colossal monolith crumbled along with the system that had spawned it, leaving a sea of bitterness and grudges in its wake, as well as nostalgia for a lost paradise for engineers and technicians.
A bad hangover
Imagine the shock when two or three generations of specialists, who were convinced that that they are the best of the best in the most advanced fields, suddenly see their situation change 180 degrees overnight.
After Russia embarked on the road to a market economy, these specialists were told that the country no longer needed their work, that too much had already been spent on them. They were also told that they had to adapt to the market system in the next five years, including by selling their products wherever they could.
You can turn a blind eye to technology, but you can’t abolish it completely. In 1993, the national aerospace industry asserted itself on the commercial space-launch market. It took the industry a lot of time and effort to adapt to the realities of the market economy, losing human resources, production facilities, experience, knowledge and hope in the process.
These strong and proud people had flown too close to the Sun, or rather they had brought the Sun too close to their pedestrian and sinful fellow humans. The fall of the aerospace industry was cruelly sobering after several decades of intoxication with the limitless possibilities afforded under the Soviet space program.
The seeds of the Soviet space industry’s tragic downfall had been sown in its very creation. It could not have been otherwise. Without those fatal flaws it would have never emerged, and would have failed to accomplish all those stunning feats that won respect world over.
Even the Soviet Union, with its supposedly developed socialist society, could not escape the Darwinist dialectic. Highly specialized “species” are unavoidably doomed to a bright, albeit brief, existence when the environment to which they were so perfectly adapted vanishes in an instant.
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