A topic that comes up often when considering the long term human exploration of Mars is the concept of Terraforming. Quite literally, terraforming describes direct intervention of human beings to modify the climate of another planet to make it more like the surface of the Earth. This makes a great deal of sense; it’s much easier to explore, build cities and carry out the daily business of living if the surface is warm, radiation levels are low, and the atmosphere is thick and breathable.
Of course the closer you start out to Earth-like conditions, the easier this process is. Terraforming Triton (a moon of Neptune) or Mercury, for instance, would be almost impossible. Even though Mars is just about the best candidate for terraforming in the solar system, it would still require an unprecedented industrial intervention and some creative solutions. Despite this, Mars is unlikely to be the first place where the human race practices terraforming. Instead, we most likely will first try terraforming the Earth itself.
This process goes by the name of geoengineering, but the goals are familiar to anyone who has ever planted and nurtured a garden. The goal is not to maintain your particular patch of ground in its pristine, primordial state, but to mould a viable mini-ecosystem of your own design. To that end gardeners routinely do things like add chemical fertilizer, spray for pests and introduce new species some of which do not even exist in the wild. If part of the garden grows poorly, it can receive special attention. If a particular plant thrives excessively and threatens to overtake the whole, it can be pruned back.
Sometimes gardening is done for pure pleasure, but other times it comes out of necessity. Removing dry overburden in forests reduces the fire hazard. Controlling the types of plants living close by can help reduce the number of pests or the ease of spread of disease. It can also be the means by which a resource is protected, such as in Japan in the late 1600s when silviculture began as a way to preserve and ration the use of different kinds of wood.
This last point brings up the subject of a closed environment. If the Japanese had had easy access to wood from abroad, they likely would have not have taken such stewardship of their own forests. Like late 17th century Japan, the Earth is itself an island in the solar system for which we need to take up environmental stewardship. Human beings have proved capable of changing the climate through our activities and we need to be careful how we wield this power.
But this doesn’t mean that the Earth, its surface and its inhabitants need to revert to some primal, wild state. Instead we need to evaluate the current state of the planet, how it is changing, and how we would like it to be. Since the costs of global warming will potentially be high, it is important to mitigate this risk. But reducing our CO2 emissions may not the only way to prevent a warming of the surface. Recently, the Copenhagen Consensus and others have begun examining the possibility of using technology on a large scale to counteract the effects of global warming. You can read their most recent report here: http://fixtheclimate.com/uploads/tx_templavoila/PP_Climate_Engineering_Pielke_v.1.0.pdf.
In this report they comment on the viability of inducing cooling changes to the Earth’s climate system, including the wide dispersal of aerosols (which can affect the amount of sunlight striking the surface both directly and as condensation nuclei for clouds) as well as capture and sequestration of carbon dioxide directly from the atmosphere. One danger here is that the Earth is a complicated system and so the feedbacks resulting from the implementation of any of these ideas is not necessarily well understood.
But this sort of positive mitigation is politically attractive and some of the ideas are very intriguing. For instance, if you were to convert CO2 from the atmosphere into biofuel for a vehicle by using a process powered by a renewable source such as solar energy, such a vehicle would be carbon-neutral.
Either way, given that we are on the cusp of having the technological power to geoengineer the Earth, it is up to us to use this power wisely. As we know from Easter Island's example, island systems can be delicate. But we shouldn't shy away from using it and from creating the world we want to have instead of just recreating what has come before.
Further Reading: “Collapse: How Societies Choose to Fail or Succeed” by Jared Diamond has a great account of Japan siviliculture and discusses how societies who responsably take control of their environment can have good outcomes. (I should mention that “Guns, germs and steel” is also a really good read)
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Sunk Cost
When I was in engineering school, one of our courses was called “engineering economics.” Presumably, this was meant to help us should we quickly become managers, as so many other U of T engineers had. One of the most interesting concepts presented was the importance of a sunk cost. Specifically, that any sunk cost was worthless and that we should resist the siren’s song of trying to use something just because it was costly when ignoring it would be cheaper. The classic example was the construction of a $10 billion nuclear power plant. If on the day of its completion power could be generated more cheaply from other existing sources letting the plant fall into disrepair was the responsible option.
However, when talking about unique deployed space hardware it’s hard to make that same choice. On the one hand, continued support eats up funding that could be used to forge ahead in other areas. On the other, shuttering a program before its senescence could leave vital or unique science undone which may cost more to do later on. An excellent case is the Lunar Seismic Network, deployed by the Apollo astronauts, which was deactivated for budgetary reasons in the 1970s. The amount of money required for that project to continue was minuscule compared to what we are considering spending in order to put seismometers back on the moon.
So what then to do with the International Space Station? NASA has revealed its plans to deorbit the orbiting laboratory in 2016 shortly after it is completed. (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/07/12/AR2009071201977.html?hpid=topnews ) I must admit that I have never been an enthusiastic fan of the station. The $100 billion or so spent on its construction by the United States alone always seemed to me to be money better put to more targeted uses. However, now that it has been nearly completed it seems a shame to see it removed even if its utility to the Moon-Mars program is tangential at best. Not to mention that even if it became a desirable asset once again, it would be unlikely to be rebuilt given the time and the expense required.
Instead of looking at the station as a sunk cost or even a liability, perhaps NASA could view their orbiting platform as an opportunity? After all, it is a unique asset which might even be able to fund itself or become a net revenue stream, given the right uses. Perhaps an auction could be arranged – I’m sure that private enterprise might be interested in a unique research environment, manufacturing facility or even a hotel of sorts. Perhaps it would eventually give Virgin Galactic or a similar company a destination. The Russian Space Agency often takes paying tourists on board their spacecraft, so there is a market for that out there, at the very least.
The only sticking point I could see would be that whoever were to take over the property would need to be responsible for orbit maintenance. Certainly, an uncontrolled de-orbiting or a collision in LEO is undesirable. Perhaps the best plan would be a long-term lease. In that way, at worst, NASA will simply move out its plans for de-orbiting and at best provide effective technology transfer, improve its bottom line, and help the human race to take a first step off the surface of the planet outside of direct governmental action. If it proves profitable for either partner, we could be in for some exciting times!
However, when talking about unique deployed space hardware it’s hard to make that same choice. On the one hand, continued support eats up funding that could be used to forge ahead in other areas. On the other, shuttering a program before its senescence could leave vital or unique science undone which may cost more to do later on. An excellent case is the Lunar Seismic Network, deployed by the Apollo astronauts, which was deactivated for budgetary reasons in the 1970s. The amount of money required for that project to continue was minuscule compared to what we are considering spending in order to put seismometers back on the moon.
So what then to do with the International Space Station? NASA has revealed its plans to deorbit the orbiting laboratory in 2016 shortly after it is completed. (http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/07/12/AR2009071201977.html?hpid=topnews ) I must admit that I have never been an enthusiastic fan of the station. The $100 billion or so spent on its construction by the United States alone always seemed to me to be money better put to more targeted uses. However, now that it has been nearly completed it seems a shame to see it removed even if its utility to the Moon-Mars program is tangential at best. Not to mention that even if it became a desirable asset once again, it would be unlikely to be rebuilt given the time and the expense required.
Instead of looking at the station as a sunk cost or even a liability, perhaps NASA could view their orbiting platform as an opportunity? After all, it is a unique asset which might even be able to fund itself or become a net revenue stream, given the right uses. Perhaps an auction could be arranged – I’m sure that private enterprise might be interested in a unique research environment, manufacturing facility or even a hotel of sorts. Perhaps it would eventually give Virgin Galactic or a similar company a destination. The Russian Space Agency often takes paying tourists on board their spacecraft, so there is a market for that out there, at the very least.
The only sticking point I could see would be that whoever were to take over the property would need to be responsible for orbit maintenance. Certainly, an uncontrolled de-orbiting or a collision in LEO is undesirable. Perhaps the best plan would be a long-term lease. In that way, at worst, NASA will simply move out its plans for de-orbiting and at best provide effective technology transfer, improve its bottom line, and help the human race to take a first step off the surface of the planet outside of direct governmental action. If it proves profitable for either partner, we could be in for some exciting times!
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
40 hours in Boulder
I just returned tonight from one of the World's hotbeds of Planetary Science research: Boulder, Colorado. It's here that you can find Colorado University, the Southwest Research Institute and the Space Science Institute which probably give boulder the highest per capita concentration of planetary scientists anywhere. Since this blog nominally has something to do with my search for employment, I should mention that I was in town interviewing.
While there I also had the chance to catch up with some old friends. Most notably, Oleg Abramov really did his adopted town proud, I think. In some ways the walking tours of downtown and two separate hikes (one of which was a bit of an adventure; getting trapped on top of one of the flatirons during a thunder storm) were probably representative of the place. It's certainly not the place for people who prefer to remain indoors.
I was impressed with all I saw and I would be proud to call that city my home in the future, should I get the opportunity. Maybe next time I'll have more then 40 hours to look around the place!
The view from my hotel window!
Convective cloud as seen from the front range of the rockies.
While there I also had the chance to catch up with some old friends. Most notably, Oleg Abramov really did his adopted town proud, I think. In some ways the walking tours of downtown and two separate hikes (one of which was a bit of an adventure; getting trapped on top of one of the flatirons during a thunder storm) were probably representative of the place. It's certainly not the place for people who prefer to remain indoors.
I was impressed with all I saw and I would be proud to call that city my home in the future, should I get the opportunity. Maybe next time I'll have more then 40 hours to look around the place!
The view from my hotel window!
Convective cloud as seen from the front range of the rockies.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Pragmatism and Vision on the occasion of an Anniversary
Today is July 20th, 2009 – the 40th anniversary of the Apollo 11 moon landing. One thing I can assure you is that before the day is out, a great deal of ink will have been spilled on both looking backwards and forwards to the past and future of NASA. Childhood memories of that fateful step will abound, as will calls for a bold new way forward, or assurances that we are already on our way back to the Moon, Mars and beyond. Some may even speculate about colonization or draw comparisons between the initial exploration and ultimate return to Antarctica. But the fact remains that there seems to be no real urgency in the air. Something seems to be missing.
Like any living creature, an agency needs a sense of purpose in order to survive. This purpose is articulated through achievable and desirable goals. For many agencies and government departments this is a straightforward exercise. Each of their overall goals can be broken down at many levels into prioritized subtasks to be carried out by individual people. The organization remains relevant and current through constant re-evaluation and by pruning off side tasks. Altogether, this is a remarkably pragmatic process.
While this formula works well for many departments, NASA has always been a little different. At the start it was very pragmatic, and very highly focused on “placing a man on the moon and returning him safely” prior to 1970. But since then the ultimate goal of the agency has broadened and become more ephemeral then most, despite attempts to bring it into the realm of the pragmatic. What is NASA’s purpose today? At its most broad (2002-2006) is was: “To understand and protect our home planet; to explore the universe and search for life; to inspire the next generation of explorers ... as only NASA can.”
But what does this somewhat circular statement really mean? Is NASA a builder of rockets and spacecraft and maintainer of an elite corps of explorers? Or is it a funding agency for fundamental knowledge about the earth, solar system and the universe? Or is it an inspirational vehicle whose benefits are indirect and therefore inherently less measurable? In many ways, all three have come to apply, giving a very broad set of potential mandates which defy attempts at focus.
To make matters worse, each area is in tension, and even within each subgroup there are many disagreements. To illustrate, let me recount a conversation I had a few years back in Tucson with another planetary scientist and an astronomer. Each of us felt that NASA’s overarching goal was to explore the universe, but we disagreed about the way to go about it. The other planetary scientist felt that human exploration was critical, despite the cost, since only “boots on the ground” would inspire the next generation of explorers. At the time, I felt that shuttle launches were a waste since for the cost of each we could explore several places in the solar system robotically. The astronomer felt that we should instead be investing the money in fundamental astrophysics because it alone could answer the big questions about the universe.
If three people closely aligned in interest and profession can have this kind of debate within a single phrase of the motto, it begs the question as to whether these areas are really reconcilable. Thus, should NASA be split up?
There is certainly a good argument to be made that terrestrial, planetary and astronomical research could be conceptually accommodated under the National Science Foundation (NSF). As well, with the new Global Exploration Initiative, the way forward through 2030 seems to be largely settled and negotiated with international partners. An agency entirely focused on implementing this plan might be more effective. It would also mean less uncertainty for those of us working within the field for whom funding seems to be framed as a zero sum battle between the Science Mission Directorate (SMD) and the Space Exploration Directorate (SED) for limited resources.
Ultimately you have to ask the question: why does NASA even exist – why do we do this? Despite all the arguments about technology transfer, innovative management examples and fancy mattresses, it isn’t about the tangible benefits (though these are real and important). One part of the equation, still relevant even after Apollo, is national pride. We want our nation to be a leader in space, and we are willing to pay a certain amount for that. Another is the appeal of the unknown and our curiosity about it, the visionary aspect. This pioneering spirit has been close to the hearts of many Americans, even if it is not lived day to day, and is probably the reason that per capita spending on space agencies in the US is the highest in the world at about $56 per person. Compare that to $17 for Japan, $9 for Canada, $7 for Europe, and $1.10 for India.
But even the per capita funding within the United States has fallen from a peak of almost $180 (adjusted for inflation) per person in 1965 (when the federal budget was much also smaller). Why has this drop-off occurred? Paradoxically, it could be a sign of increasing prosperity on Earth combined with the decreasing novelty of space travel from which the average citizen sees little direct benefit. For instance, grand plans for cities in space from the 1960s and 1970s looked good when conditions at home were poor, but lost their lustre when things improved. “Going to work in space” may have helped people relate to NASA in the 1980s, but it wasn't long before they started to question why they were being asked to cough up $2 every time someone needs to ride the space bus. Finally, today there is very little non-governmental space industry that is viable, so there isn't a whole lot of direct interaction.
So what can an agency caught in transition do? Crewed exploration purely for the benefit of simply refining science works well for Antarctica, but may be too costly to be done off planet. Of course, this may be a good way to stimulate industry, as the return to the Moon is trying to find out. But if we want to have a more relevant mission statement then a make-work program, instead we need to use our resources to answer the big questions. It’s no longer enough to have flags and footprints and after Apollo, I’m not sure that just landing on Mars or some other piece of real estate in the solar system, exotic as it is, will be enough. We need to capture the public’s imagination if we are to justify the expenditure of so many of their tax dollars. Thus we don’t so much need a place to go as a quest of sorts. Mallory’s famous quote no longer suffices.
And what could be better then determining the role played by life in the universe? This is a theme that we all can relate to at a fundamental level. Who hasn’t wondered about their place in the world? It’s a dream that we can chase, from Mars, to Europa and Enceladus and beyond. So let’s go to these places and focus intently on getting there and uncovering the story. Let's be sure to communicate our enthusiasm to the public so that they can share in our adventure.
This idea is just one of several possibilities. But no matter what we choose to do we need to be sure that along with the ‘how’ we’ve got a good answer for the ‘why.’ I’d happily pay 56 bucks for that.
Like any living creature, an agency needs a sense of purpose in order to survive. This purpose is articulated through achievable and desirable goals. For many agencies and government departments this is a straightforward exercise. Each of their overall goals can be broken down at many levels into prioritized subtasks to be carried out by individual people. The organization remains relevant and current through constant re-evaluation and by pruning off side tasks. Altogether, this is a remarkably pragmatic process.
While this formula works well for many departments, NASA has always been a little different. At the start it was very pragmatic, and very highly focused on “placing a man on the moon and returning him safely” prior to 1970. But since then the ultimate goal of the agency has broadened and become more ephemeral then most, despite attempts to bring it into the realm of the pragmatic. What is NASA’s purpose today? At its most broad (2002-2006) is was: “To understand and protect our home planet; to explore the universe and search for life; to inspire the next generation of explorers ... as only NASA can.”
But what does this somewhat circular statement really mean? Is NASA a builder of rockets and spacecraft and maintainer of an elite corps of explorers? Or is it a funding agency for fundamental knowledge about the earth, solar system and the universe? Or is it an inspirational vehicle whose benefits are indirect and therefore inherently less measurable? In many ways, all three have come to apply, giving a very broad set of potential mandates which defy attempts at focus.
To make matters worse, each area is in tension, and even within each subgroup there are many disagreements. To illustrate, let me recount a conversation I had a few years back in Tucson with another planetary scientist and an astronomer. Each of us felt that NASA’s overarching goal was to explore the universe, but we disagreed about the way to go about it. The other planetary scientist felt that human exploration was critical, despite the cost, since only “boots on the ground” would inspire the next generation of explorers. At the time, I felt that shuttle launches were a waste since for the cost of each we could explore several places in the solar system robotically. The astronomer felt that we should instead be investing the money in fundamental astrophysics because it alone could answer the big questions about the universe.
If three people closely aligned in interest and profession can have this kind of debate within a single phrase of the motto, it begs the question as to whether these areas are really reconcilable. Thus, should NASA be split up?
There is certainly a good argument to be made that terrestrial, planetary and astronomical research could be conceptually accommodated under the National Science Foundation (NSF). As well, with the new Global Exploration Initiative, the way forward through 2030 seems to be largely settled and negotiated with international partners. An agency entirely focused on implementing this plan might be more effective. It would also mean less uncertainty for those of us working within the field for whom funding seems to be framed as a zero sum battle between the Science Mission Directorate (SMD) and the Space Exploration Directorate (SED) for limited resources.
Ultimately you have to ask the question: why does NASA even exist – why do we do this? Despite all the arguments about technology transfer, innovative management examples and fancy mattresses, it isn’t about the tangible benefits (though these are real and important). One part of the equation, still relevant even after Apollo, is national pride. We want our nation to be a leader in space, and we are willing to pay a certain amount for that. Another is the appeal of the unknown and our curiosity about it, the visionary aspect. This pioneering spirit has been close to the hearts of many Americans, even if it is not lived day to day, and is probably the reason that per capita spending on space agencies in the US is the highest in the world at about $56 per person. Compare that to $17 for Japan, $9 for Canada, $7 for Europe, and $1.10 for India.
But even the per capita funding within the United States has fallen from a peak of almost $180 (adjusted for inflation) per person in 1965 (when the federal budget was much also smaller). Why has this drop-off occurred? Paradoxically, it could be a sign of increasing prosperity on Earth combined with the decreasing novelty of space travel from which the average citizen sees little direct benefit. For instance, grand plans for cities in space from the 1960s and 1970s looked good when conditions at home were poor, but lost their lustre when things improved. “Going to work in space” may have helped people relate to NASA in the 1980s, but it wasn't long before they started to question why they were being asked to cough up $2 every time someone needs to ride the space bus. Finally, today there is very little non-governmental space industry that is viable, so there isn't a whole lot of direct interaction.
So what can an agency caught in transition do? Crewed exploration purely for the benefit of simply refining science works well for Antarctica, but may be too costly to be done off planet. Of course, this may be a good way to stimulate industry, as the return to the Moon is trying to find out. But if we want to have a more relevant mission statement then a make-work program, instead we need to use our resources to answer the big questions. It’s no longer enough to have flags and footprints and after Apollo, I’m not sure that just landing on Mars or some other piece of real estate in the solar system, exotic as it is, will be enough. We need to capture the public’s imagination if we are to justify the expenditure of so many of their tax dollars. Thus we don’t so much need a place to go as a quest of sorts. Mallory’s famous quote no longer suffices.
And what could be better then determining the role played by life in the universe? This is a theme that we all can relate to at a fundamental level. Who hasn’t wondered about their place in the world? It’s a dream that we can chase, from Mars, to Europa and Enceladus and beyond. So let’s go to these places and focus intently on getting there and uncovering the story. Let's be sure to communicate our enthusiasm to the public so that they can share in our adventure.
This idea is just one of several possibilities. But no matter what we choose to do we need to be sure that along with the ‘how’ we’ve got a good answer for the ‘why.’ I’d happily pay 56 bucks for that.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
And now a brief word from Dr. Tyson
Those of you who get the research channel (or in Canada those with Rogers Digital - check under TV/Documentary Channel on ROD*) might be interested to check out a chat with Neil DeGrasse Tyson, director of the Hayden Planetarium sponsored by HHMI. In it he describes his early career and answers questions from students. It becomes obvious early on why it is that he is such a great spokesperson for our profession. He's certainly an engaging personality, ("Illuminating and Entertaining" as the host summed him up) and has a talent for reducing concepts down to their essentials, not unlike my own advisor Peter Smith.
It's a lesson that we all can take to heart and one he summed up with an interesting anecdote. Early on in his career he described an encounter with the media in which he tried to explain, in scholarly fashion, why "wobble" wasn't quite the right term for describing the doppler method for detecting extrasolar planets. It turned out that his gyrations to demonstrate were the only thing that ended up on screen. From then on, he has made sure to have one two and three sentence descriptions in plain language of just about every topic in astronomy. This ensured that the message that he wanted to get across to the public did so directly, without misinterpretation or edit.
I try to remember that oft quoted phrase "If I had more time, I would have written a shorter letter" typically attributed to Blaise Pascal. Conciseness is a challenge, especially for myself, but I aim to improve it! It's also very important to maintain this directness. Many of us are publicly funded and should be able to describe what we do to a broad audience. Besides, it's more fun anyways when we can share our passion and energy with a broader audience!
One final comment on the documentary: while I applaud Tyson's response to a student asking about challenges, I have to warn anyone considering Science that it tends to be more gray in practice. Tyson responded by telling the student that blind alleys abound in Science and it's not whether you make the big discovery or not that defines you as a Scientist, but instead your ability to regroup and make it around obstacles. Even a negative result is a publishable result. This is a good ideal, but I wonder how much hiring committees get caught up in trying to hire superstars with first author articles in the most prestigious journals. Likewise on the opposite side, it's a bad sign that "Experiment didn't work out" is not an uncommon reason for leaving the field (see an anecdote buried in this article describing the difficulties of working in Science: http://philip.greenspun.com/careers/women-in-science ).
*UPDATE: the lecture is now available online. Click on the image above or type http://www.hhmi.org/grants/Cech_deGrasse/index.html into your browser.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
ITAR, Roth and Friedman
While most of these essays will be showing up about every two weeks, noteworthy events will justify an added comment. One such event was the recent conviction and sentencing of a University of Tennessee professor, J. Reece Roth in a case involving the International Traffic in Arms Regulations, better known to us spacecraft types as ITAR. You can read about the specifics of the case here: http://www.knoxnews.com/news/2009/jul/01/ex-ut-prof-gets-4-years-mishandling-defense-secret/.
ITAR is the law of the land in the United States, is enforced by the State Department and covers the export of defence technologies. While it mainly applies to military hardware it also applies to DoD-sponsored research, (as in the Roth case) the activities of defence contractors and, spacecraft and launch systems. As such, many NASA activities are covered by ITAR provisions and I can tell you from personal experience that these regulations are taken very seriously.
I should also mention that the term “export” is meant very broadly and information or equipment does not have to leave the country in order to be considered exported. Simply allowing a foreign national unauthorized access or taking a laptop with contract information abroad will satisfy the export provision. As well, many types of information that might not seem at first glance to be sensitive are covered. These include spacecraft instrument deck layouts, for instance. Often as a result, international treaties are required to secure international participation.
(Note: This may not always be the case. There has been talk of reclassifying spacecraft and launch hardware under the commerce department to free up this area. Much of this is due to a loss of market share in the commercial launch market to Europe since the late 90s.)
However, this all adds up to an inconvenience for those of us who are not US Citizens who would like to make a contribution to spacecraft and planetary science. In some cases, we cannot even apply for positions, while in others the compliance requirements put us at a competitive disadvantage compared to others. Even in the mildest cases, we often can not be included in many of the important decision making processes.
But I am ok with that. During my tenure in Arizona, I knew that I was a guest, even though - to the credit of those around me - I was always treated as an equal with the rest of my classmates. (Granted I am Canadian, so it was often forgotten that I was not, in fact, American myself) I am thankful for the opportunities that I was able to advantage of, and all the help I received over those years. As such, it is not for me to criticize why these rules exist. The US has a right to protect the technologies developed within its borders and a duty to provide the best opportunities for its citizens.
But it should be pointed out that these restrictions and the vigour with which they were enforced as shown by the Roth case may have the effect of discouraging talented individuals from outside the country from immigrating. (More potential pitfalls are discussed over at wikipedia in the controversy section: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Traffic_in_Arms_Regulations) As Thomas Friedman of the New York Times points out, this could impact economically on the continued leadership of the United States in many technical fields.
While I would not go so far as he does in suggesting that all PhD recipients at US universities should be granted citizenship “stapled to their diplomas,” clearly fewer barriers before and after graduation would help retain top individuals. Further, given the serious expense involved with advanced training, often at the expense of the state or federal government, retention would be an admirable and cost-effective goal.
In the end it seems that Roth’s violation was more to the letter of the law, rather then to the spirit in which the law was enacted. Even the compliance officers at the University of Tennessee expressed their surprise in their report (http://www.ncuraregioniii.com/Handouts/C19.pdf) that a conviction was obtained without any evidence that national security was compromised. However, his activities continued even after he was informed of the ramifications. It was this flouting of the regulations which ultimately seems to have resulted in his conviction, and for that neither the prosecution nor the law can be faulted.
ITAR is the law of the land in the United States, is enforced by the State Department and covers the export of defence technologies. While it mainly applies to military hardware it also applies to DoD-sponsored research, (as in the Roth case) the activities of defence contractors and, spacecraft and launch systems. As such, many NASA activities are covered by ITAR provisions and I can tell you from personal experience that these regulations are taken very seriously.
I should also mention that the term “export” is meant very broadly and information or equipment does not have to leave the country in order to be considered exported. Simply allowing a foreign national unauthorized access or taking a laptop with contract information abroad will satisfy the export provision. As well, many types of information that might not seem at first glance to be sensitive are covered. These include spacecraft instrument deck layouts, for instance. Often as a result, international treaties are required to secure international participation.
(Note: This may not always be the case. There has been talk of reclassifying spacecraft and launch hardware under the commerce department to free up this area. Much of this is due to a loss of market share in the commercial launch market to Europe since the late 90s.)
However, this all adds up to an inconvenience for those of us who are not US Citizens who would like to make a contribution to spacecraft and planetary science. In some cases, we cannot even apply for positions, while in others the compliance requirements put us at a competitive disadvantage compared to others. Even in the mildest cases, we often can not be included in many of the important decision making processes.
But I am ok with that. During my tenure in Arizona, I knew that I was a guest, even though - to the credit of those around me - I was always treated as an equal with the rest of my classmates. (Granted I am Canadian, so it was often forgotten that I was not, in fact, American myself) I am thankful for the opportunities that I was able to advantage of, and all the help I received over those years. As such, it is not for me to criticize why these rules exist. The US has a right to protect the technologies developed within its borders and a duty to provide the best opportunities for its citizens.
But it should be pointed out that these restrictions and the vigour with which they were enforced as shown by the Roth case may have the effect of discouraging talented individuals from outside the country from immigrating. (More potential pitfalls are discussed over at wikipedia in the controversy section: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Traffic_in_Arms_Regulations) As Thomas Friedman of the New York Times points out, this could impact economically on the continued leadership of the United States in many technical fields.
While I would not go so far as he does in suggesting that all PhD recipients at US universities should be granted citizenship “stapled to their diplomas,” clearly fewer barriers before and after graduation would help retain top individuals. Further, given the serious expense involved with advanced training, often at the expense of the state or federal government, retention would be an admirable and cost-effective goal.
In the end it seems that Roth’s violation was more to the letter of the law, rather then to the spirit in which the law was enacted. Even the compliance officers at the University of Tennessee expressed their surprise in their report (http://www.ncuraregioniii.com/Handouts/C19.pdf) that a conviction was obtained without any evidence that national security was compromised. However, his activities continued even after he was informed of the ramifications. It was this flouting of the regulations which ultimately seems to have resulted in his conviction, and for that neither the prosecution nor the law can be faulted.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Do we need “All of the Planets, All of the Time”?
A colleague of mine with whom I have written a paper or two, Andrew Schuerger, announced at LPSC one year the existence of life on Mars. While it was a little tongue-in-cheek, his point contained an essential truth: that given the decontamination procedures in use, viable microbial life had almost certainly been transported to Mars on the inside of spacecraft. This was not idle speculation, nor was it entirely novel; cameras retrieved by the Apollo astronauts from the Ranger Lunar Landers still carried culturable bacteria after years of exposure to vacuum and radiation on the surface of the moon.
Even so, this doesn’t mean that we can expect to see carpets of green radiating out from our landed spacecraft any time soon. In fact, what organism are present are most likely in the form of dormant and hardened spores since Mars remains a pretty harsh place for even bacteria to grow. Further, anything viable on the exterior of a Martian spacecraft or on the surface would be killed within at most a few months of exposure to UV, depending on where it fell (you can take a look at http://adsabs.harvard.edu/abs/2007Icar..192..417M for more details on these extreme cases).
This begs the question as to whether procedures used to decontaminate spacecraft and prevent forward contamination (not to be confused with reverse contamination by any extraterrestrial microbes, the type popularized by movies like the Andromeda Strain), collectively known as planetary protection and administered out of the Planetary Protection office of NASA in the United States, are really necessary.
One reason for wanting extra stringent sterilization is scientific. You need to have a very clean spacecraft to prevent any sensitive life or organic-detection equipment from inadvertently showing a false positive. To prevent this, severe decontamination measures are often taken. For instance, the Robotic Arm on the Phoenix Lander was enshrouded in a “bio-barrier” until after landing. But as we didn’t want to come to Mars to “discover” terrestrial organics on the scoop, this was an important precaution.
The specific level of sterility required varies by destination. The Robotic Arm employed by Phoenix needed to be as clean as it was as a result of its potential contact with the ice table in a region where life or its traces were possible. By international agreement, COSPAR has designated four levels of these regions which require progressively more stringent planetary protection measures (category five relates to reverse contamination http://cosparhq.cnes.fr/Scistr/Pppolicy.htm). The level of protection ranges from none, for a level one body like the moon to full sterilization for access to so-called special regions of Mars or Europa, the only two level four bodies in the solar system.
There are a few locations that may come as a surprise. Even orbiters of Mars are designated as level three, while a Venusian lander is rated at level one, mainly because there is nothing we can do to a spacecraft on Earth that is as destructive as what the venusian environment will do in-situ.
Either way, exploring a special region can be a costly or even a prohibitive burden on any space mission. Sterilization for the Viking Mission cost almost US$320 million, adjusted for inflation, or about 70% of the cost of an entire discovery-class mission.
More significant is the potential impact on mission operations. Often there are financial pressures which require reducing the functionality of hardware, a process known as descoping. This is true of nearly any mission, large or small. Cassini, a burly flagship, had its scan platforms eliminated while Phoenix, a bare-bones Scout, saw its Direct-To-Earth antenna and descent imager descoped. Thus, as a significant expense, one can cut costs dramatically by avoiding any region that requires special procedures altogether.
This is having a large impact on our exploration of Mars. Both ESA’s Exo-Mars and NASA’s Mars Science Lab, each a flagship-class mission, are avoiding special regions to pare back costs.
As well, it is arguable that an opportunity to study Europa might have been lost by the requirement of disposing of the Galileo Spacecraft in Jupiter’s atmosphere and not having it strike Europa. This could have been observed from the ground, or timed to coincide with the passage of the New Horizons spacecraft, which passed through the Jovian system on a gravity assist in February, 2007. The resulting plume could have told us a great deal about the composition of the Europan surface. Even if it had not been placed on a collision course for the moon, the spacecraft could have continued collecting data until it ran out of orbit-maintenance propellant and allowed to become derelict.
It is true that we do not want to contaminate these places to the point that we can no longer study them. But what makes these regions special is also what makes them interesting and desirable targets. As such, I have to wonder if the best is not the enemy of the good in this case. As much as we can learn incrementally from non-special regions, the rewards of exploring these other areas are potentially much greater. Space exploration is a public enterprise, and nothing grabs the imagination of our funding base more then uncovering more about the potential for life in the solar system and our place in it. If we continue to ignore these places because we set such a high bar for their exploration, we risk loosing this valuable support.
Perhaps we should be thinking in terms of resource management. Anyone who has had a cold can appreciate the resourcefulness of the little Von Neuman machines which are terrestrial microorganisms. But evolution cannot operate in the absence of reproduction and even in special regions, conditions are not exactly clement. The chances of terrestrial contaminants merely venturing beyond the level of dormant spores, not to mention thriving and replicating, anywhere on the Martian or Europan surface is low.
As such, perhaps we could consider setting aside areas where limited local contamination is permissible. This would preserve the special regions as a whole while allowing us to get answers to our biggest outstanding questions. As well, recall that any directly interacting part or life detection sensor will need to be incredibly clean to avoid false positives, so even this compromise does not increase the risk much. As Andrew has said, there is life on Mars within our landed spacecraft. But if it is confined to that barest of inhabitable niches, then the planet remains protected.
Either way, the point may be moot soon. With boots-on-the-ground human exploration planned for not long after the current pair of missions to Mars, contamination becomes inevitable. After all, it’s hard to sterilize a creature that is 10% by mass bacteria.
For more information, you can check out this helpful Nature News article: http://www.nature.com/news/2009/090520/full/459308a.html
Even so, this doesn’t mean that we can expect to see carpets of green radiating out from our landed spacecraft any time soon. In fact, what organism are present are most likely in the form of dormant and hardened spores since Mars remains a pretty harsh place for even bacteria to grow. Further, anything viable on the exterior of a Martian spacecraft or on the surface would be killed within at most a few months of exposure to UV, depending on where it fell (you can take a look at http://adsabs.harvard.edu/abs/2007Icar..192..417M for more details on these extreme cases).
This begs the question as to whether procedures used to decontaminate spacecraft and prevent forward contamination (not to be confused with reverse contamination by any extraterrestrial microbes, the type popularized by movies like the Andromeda Strain), collectively known as planetary protection and administered out of the Planetary Protection office of NASA in the United States, are really necessary.
One reason for wanting extra stringent sterilization is scientific. You need to have a very clean spacecraft to prevent any sensitive life or organic-detection equipment from inadvertently showing a false positive. To prevent this, severe decontamination measures are often taken. For instance, the Robotic Arm on the Phoenix Lander was enshrouded in a “bio-barrier” until after landing. But as we didn’t want to come to Mars to “discover” terrestrial organics on the scoop, this was an important precaution.
The specific level of sterility required varies by destination. The Robotic Arm employed by Phoenix needed to be as clean as it was as a result of its potential contact with the ice table in a region where life or its traces were possible. By international agreement, COSPAR has designated four levels of these regions which require progressively more stringent planetary protection measures (category five relates to reverse contamination http://cosparhq.cnes.fr/Scistr/Pppolicy.htm). The level of protection ranges from none, for a level one body like the moon to full sterilization for access to so-called special regions of Mars or Europa, the only two level four bodies in the solar system.
There are a few locations that may come as a surprise. Even orbiters of Mars are designated as level three, while a Venusian lander is rated at level one, mainly because there is nothing we can do to a spacecraft on Earth that is as destructive as what the venusian environment will do in-situ.
Either way, exploring a special region can be a costly or even a prohibitive burden on any space mission. Sterilization for the Viking Mission cost almost US$320 million, adjusted for inflation, or about 70% of the cost of an entire discovery-class mission.
More significant is the potential impact on mission operations. Often there are financial pressures which require reducing the functionality of hardware, a process known as descoping. This is true of nearly any mission, large or small. Cassini, a burly flagship, had its scan platforms eliminated while Phoenix, a bare-bones Scout, saw its Direct-To-Earth antenna and descent imager descoped. Thus, as a significant expense, one can cut costs dramatically by avoiding any region that requires special procedures altogether.
This is having a large impact on our exploration of Mars. Both ESA’s Exo-Mars and NASA’s Mars Science Lab, each a flagship-class mission, are avoiding special regions to pare back costs.
As well, it is arguable that an opportunity to study Europa might have been lost by the requirement of disposing of the Galileo Spacecraft in Jupiter’s atmosphere and not having it strike Europa. This could have been observed from the ground, or timed to coincide with the passage of the New Horizons spacecraft, which passed through the Jovian system on a gravity assist in February, 2007. The resulting plume could have told us a great deal about the composition of the Europan surface. Even if it had not been placed on a collision course for the moon, the spacecraft could have continued collecting data until it ran out of orbit-maintenance propellant and allowed to become derelict.
It is true that we do not want to contaminate these places to the point that we can no longer study them. But what makes these regions special is also what makes them interesting and desirable targets. As such, I have to wonder if the best is not the enemy of the good in this case. As much as we can learn incrementally from non-special regions, the rewards of exploring these other areas are potentially much greater. Space exploration is a public enterprise, and nothing grabs the imagination of our funding base more then uncovering more about the potential for life in the solar system and our place in it. If we continue to ignore these places because we set such a high bar for their exploration, we risk loosing this valuable support.
Perhaps we should be thinking in terms of resource management. Anyone who has had a cold can appreciate the resourcefulness of the little Von Neuman machines which are terrestrial microorganisms. But evolution cannot operate in the absence of reproduction and even in special regions, conditions are not exactly clement. The chances of terrestrial contaminants merely venturing beyond the level of dormant spores, not to mention thriving and replicating, anywhere on the Martian or Europan surface is low.
As such, perhaps we could consider setting aside areas where limited local contamination is permissible. This would preserve the special regions as a whole while allowing us to get answers to our biggest outstanding questions. As well, recall that any directly interacting part or life detection sensor will need to be incredibly clean to avoid false positives, so even this compromise does not increase the risk much. As Andrew has said, there is life on Mars within our landed spacecraft. But if it is confined to that barest of inhabitable niches, then the planet remains protected.
Either way, the point may be moot soon. With boots-on-the-ground human exploration planned for not long after the current pair of missions to Mars, contamination becomes inevitable. After all, it’s hard to sterilize a creature that is 10% by mass bacteria.
For more information, you can check out this helpful Nature News article: http://www.nature.com/news/2009/090520/full/459308a.html
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Bookends
Today I finished reading Kim Stanley Robinson's Mars trillogy (+1 for the short story collection) for the second time. Robinson's work has always had an interesting element of the objective for me; it's a product of the amount of research that goes into his books. At times, this can make him a hard author to read, but there are dividends to be paid to a patient audience. I know that it took me several tries to get into Antarctica, but it was well worth it in the end. But even in a work so well plotted, with so much hard science and engineering for a background, it was a completely different experience for me this time around.
You see, when I first read the books, I was involved with my udergraduate work. At the time I was studying to be an engineer, but I'd always had an idle interest in science fiction since I was young. In fact, I might have gone straight into astronomy, had it not been for the frustration I had experienced with a certain telescope in my youth. Since then, the idea of space travel always seemed a bit disconnected from reality for me. The type of thing you might daydream about, but not something you would actually do as a career.
But these books showed me that there was something more. Perhaps I could turn my interest into my career. And so, I enrolled in and completed a doctorate in planetary science after finishing up my undergrad. As a result, I now know much of the background material inside and out. So while I was interested to read the books once more, just to meet all the familiar characters over again, I was even more curious to see what I would think now that I knew the language.
You see, reading a book is not a passive activity, but depends highly upon what you bring to the table. This is something I've encountered before with the Ender's Game series from Orson Scott Card. When I first read the books at 16, it just could not get better then the first book where the main character is a child and then a teenager. Later, when I was 25, I re-read the series and now I've come to feel that the second book "Speaker for the Dead" is the better one. Will I prefer the third book when I am fifty? I would not be surprised.
And so this time when I reread the books, it felt more like summing up. Mars is a place I've visited, if only by proxy, over the course of the Phoenix mission and in my research. What interested me more this time around wasn't the excitement of the initial exploration and colonization or even the terraforming ("Red," "Green") but what comes next ("Blue," "Martians"). How is it that people choose to live their lives and all the little stories that come together to make up a culture.
I know these last two have earned the derision of many, but I really appreciated the tapestry being put together, even if it was less technical and less plot-driven then the others. I even appreciated how Robinson brings in short stories written before the books that mildly contradict what happens in the 'canon.' Each of us sees reality in subtly different ways, and neither of us ever walks the same road twice, changed as we are by the interviening time.
Perhaps this also appeals to me because I feel like I am at a bit of a cross-roads. I've completed my training, discovered, explored and constructed my world, so to speak. So now it is time to figure out how to live in it. However, this year, I seem to be stuck going sideways. Even though I've entered a new field, (out of necessity, admitedly) I feel like I'm just rehashing the past five years over again. And I'm ready to return to planetary science. I'm ready to forge on ahead. I'm ready for a new challenge.
You see, when I first read the books, I was involved with my udergraduate work. At the time I was studying to be an engineer, but I'd always had an idle interest in science fiction since I was young. In fact, I might have gone straight into astronomy, had it not been for the frustration I had experienced with a certain telescope in my youth. Since then, the idea of space travel always seemed a bit disconnected from reality for me. The type of thing you might daydream about, but not something you would actually do as a career.
But these books showed me that there was something more. Perhaps I could turn my interest into my career. And so, I enrolled in and completed a doctorate in planetary science after finishing up my undergrad. As a result, I now know much of the background material inside and out. So while I was interested to read the books once more, just to meet all the familiar characters over again, I was even more curious to see what I would think now that I knew the language.
You see, reading a book is not a passive activity, but depends highly upon what you bring to the table. This is something I've encountered before with the Ender's Game series from Orson Scott Card. When I first read the books at 16, it just could not get better then the first book where the main character is a child and then a teenager. Later, when I was 25, I re-read the series and now I've come to feel that the second book "Speaker for the Dead" is the better one. Will I prefer the third book when I am fifty? I would not be surprised.
And so this time when I reread the books, it felt more like summing up. Mars is a place I've visited, if only by proxy, over the course of the Phoenix mission and in my research. What interested me more this time around wasn't the excitement of the initial exploration and colonization or even the terraforming ("Red," "Green") but what comes next ("Blue," "Martians"). How is it that people choose to live their lives and all the little stories that come together to make up a culture.
I know these last two have earned the derision of many, but I really appreciated the tapestry being put together, even if it was less technical and less plot-driven then the others. I even appreciated how Robinson brings in short stories written before the books that mildly contradict what happens in the 'canon.' Each of us sees reality in subtly different ways, and neither of us ever walks the same road twice, changed as we are by the interviening time.
Perhaps this also appeals to me because I feel like I am at a bit of a cross-roads. I've completed my training, discovered, explored and constructed my world, so to speak. So now it is time to figure out how to live in it. However, this year, I seem to be stuck going sideways. Even though I've entered a new field, (out of necessity, admitedly) I feel like I'm just rehashing the past five years over again. And I'm ready to return to planetary science. I'm ready to forge on ahead. I'm ready for a new challenge.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Who am I?
Let me introduce myself. My name is John Moores and I'm a Planetary Scientist currently working in Toronto, Canada. I graduated last fall with a doctorate from the Lunar and Planetary Laboratory at the University of Arizona where I studied under Peter Smith, Principal Investigator (or P.I. as we call him - watch out for plenty of acronyms on this blog) of the Phoenix Mission. Prior to my time at LPL, I completed a Bachellor's Degree in Engineering Science at the university of Toronto.
I've worked on a bunch of space missions (Phoenix, Huygens) and hope to work on a bunch more, with a little luck. Scientifically speaking, I seem to enjoy studying water particularly in its frozen form. I did my dissertation on different types of water on Mars and am really excited about studying comets, glaciers, clouds and icy satellites. Even ice on the moon, which hopefully we'll know more about soon once the results are in from LCROSS (which successfully launched today - congrats to them and the LRO spacecraft which shared the fairing).
If you "want to know more" (*) feel free to drop by my page over at www.lpl.arizona.edu/~jmoores.
Next post: Actual content (I promise)
(*) That line from "Starship Troopers" has to be useful for something, seared as it is in my brain. Those looking for (good) Heinlein, give "The Moon is a harsh mistress" a try. It even fits in with today's theme.
I've worked on a bunch of space missions (Phoenix, Huygens) and hope to work on a bunch more, with a little luck. Scientifically speaking, I seem to enjoy studying water particularly in its frozen form. I did my dissertation on different types of water on Mars and am really excited about studying comets, glaciers, clouds and icy satellites. Even ice on the moon, which hopefully we'll know more about soon once the results are in from LCROSS (which successfully launched today - congrats to them and the LRO spacecraft which shared the fairing).
If you "want to know more" (*) feel free to drop by my page over at www.lpl.arizona.edu/~jmoores.
Next post: Actual content (I promise)
(*) That line from "Starship Troopers" has to be useful for something, seared as it is in my brain. Those looking for (good) Heinlein, give "The Moon is a harsh mistress" a try. It even fits in with today's theme.
Third Time's a Charm
Hello, and welcome to HTWT! For those of you keeping score, this will be the third time I have attempted to keep a blog. So, if you've come by and haven't seen any new posts for years, I sincerely apologize.
However, there is reason to hope that this one may be more successful then the last two. First, to mine and my wife's surprise, I've been maintaining a twitter account for a couple of months (@ArcticSaxifrage). This suggests that I may be able to find the time and stick with online expression on a semi-regular basis. Secondly, I have a compelling reason for starting this blog and attempting to maintain it. I'll be blunt: I'm a recent doctoral graduate in planetary science who is looking for a job and opportunities for scientific collaboration. By allowing a bit more of myself online, hopefully I'll get the chance to advance both aims. So, if you fit the bill and can help, then I've done my job.
As such, I see this as just one other facet of my online presence. I hope to use it to compliment each of the other three: my professional website (www.lpl.arizona.edu/~jmoores/) , twitter account (@ArcticSaxifrage) and LinkedIN profile. Each of these does some things well and others not so well. In particular, a venue for more in-depth and considered writing and interaction has been lacking. Hopefully this blog will adress this.
That doesn't mean that this blog will be overly technical. I hope that what I write will be accessible to a broad audience interested in planetary science. As well, do not hesitate to ask questions. As a former academic, there's nothing we like better then the opportunity to help. One of the benefits of planetary science is the broadness of the enterprise. As such, those of us so-trained get enough of a taste of the entire field to be a bit enthralled with it all without getting to bogged down everywhere in minutia. We also are forever learning new things and are keen to share what we find. As such, the focus of this blog may change over time.
So there you have it. This is why I'm doing this and I hope that you find reason to enjoy what you find written in this space. I have "fancy plans and pants to match"(*). You and I will both see how it turns out.
Next Post: Who am I?
(*) Ahh "News Radio" - from the biography translated out and back again.
However, there is reason to hope that this one may be more successful then the last two. First, to mine and my wife's surprise, I've been maintaining a twitter account for a couple of months (@ArcticSaxifrage). This suggests that I may be able to find the time and stick with online expression on a semi-regular basis. Secondly, I have a compelling reason for starting this blog and attempting to maintain it. I'll be blunt: I'm a recent doctoral graduate in planetary science who is looking for a job and opportunities for scientific collaboration. By allowing a bit more of myself online, hopefully I'll get the chance to advance both aims. So, if you fit the bill and can help, then I've done my job.
As such, I see this as just one other facet of my online presence. I hope to use it to compliment each of the other three: my professional website (www.lpl.arizona.edu/~jmoores/) , twitter account (@ArcticSaxifrage) and LinkedIN profile. Each of these does some things well and others not so well. In particular, a venue for more in-depth and considered writing and interaction has been lacking. Hopefully this blog will adress this.
That doesn't mean that this blog will be overly technical. I hope that what I write will be accessible to a broad audience interested in planetary science. As well, do not hesitate to ask questions. As a former academic, there's nothing we like better then the opportunity to help. One of the benefits of planetary science is the broadness of the enterprise. As such, those of us so-trained get enough of a taste of the entire field to be a bit enthralled with it all without getting to bogged down everywhere in minutia. We also are forever learning new things and are keen to share what we find. As such, the focus of this blog may change over time.
So there you have it. This is why I'm doing this and I hope that you find reason to enjoy what you find written in this space. I have "fancy plans and pants to match"(*). You and I will both see how it turns out.
Next Post: Who am I?
(*) Ahh "News Radio" - from the biography translated out and back again.
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