The aerospace industry is currently buzzing about the financial aspects of space travel. From revisiting the actual costs of the Apollo missions to speculating on the potential price tag of the Artemis program, and reports of budget overruns at NASA, the conversation is heavily focused on dollars and cents. This financial focus has prompted reflections on the true costs and financial considerations inherent in ambitious endeavors like space exploration.
It’s important to clarify that this analysis isn’t based on any insider knowledge from NASA. Instead, it draws upon historical perspectives to inform our understanding of the future of space exploration costs.
A well-known anecdote within NASA lore centers on James Webb, a legendary administrator. The story goes that during a limousine ride to the White House to present the budget for the manned moon landing, Webb reviewed the $10 billion estimate. Based on his experience, he reportedly doubled it, presenting President Kennedy with a $20 billion figure. The actual cost ultimately reached approximately $24 billion, a 20% increase over Webb’s revised estimate.
Regardless of its absolute truth, this myth highlights a crucial point: cost estimations for ambitious projects are frequently lower than the final expenditure. Norman Augustine, in his book “Laws” on aerospace projects, humorously addresses this tendency: “(Law XXIV) ‘The most unsuccessful three years in the education of cost estimators appears to be fifth-grade arithmetic.’”
Recent media reports suggesting that the Artemis program could cost “$20 to $30 billion” over five years raise concerns about potential “sticker shock” in Congress. This is a valid worry, as cost concerns contributed to the demise of the Space Exploration Initiative in 1989. Similarly, in 2009, Augustine himself deemed the Constellation program ‘unsustainable,’ a diplomatic way of saying Congress would likely reject the escalating costs.
While comprehensive cost studies for Artemis haven’t been publicly released, initial estimates seem surprisingly low. Perhaps the emphasis on public-private partnerships and leveraging the efficiency of the commercial space sector is contributing to these lower projections. Time will tell if these measures are sufficient to contain costs.
Regardless of the final price tag, a program like Artemis represents an exceptional investment in the future of our nation and humanity. While the figures may seem astronomical to the average person, in the grand scheme of national budgets, they are relatively modest. These sums are comparable to rounding errors in the budgets for programs like Medicare or the Department of Defense, figures that Congress routinely manages.
Facilitating space commerce holds the potential to unlock unimaginable innovations and products in the future. Could the Wright brothers have foreseen the widespread accessibility of air travel today? Could Alexander Graham Bell have envisioned the capabilities of an iPhone? Space commerce is already generating profits through communication satellites and Earth observation technologies. The establishment of reliable space transportation could also pave the way for profitable ventures like off-world mining. However, the most transformative space-based industries of the future are likely beyond our current comprehension. It’s akin to attempting to predict the full impact of the transcontinental railroad in the 1850s. Leading the way to Mars, via the Moon, can yield immense benefits for generations to come.
However, it’s time to shift the focus from the purely financial aspects. While monetary costs are undeniably important, they are not the paramount concern when committing to a program like Artemis. The ongoing discussion has largely overlooked the most significant cost, the one that could ultimately derail any advanced space exploration initiative: human casualties.
The Apollo program, while iconic, tragically lost three astronauts in a ground accident. Apollo 13 narrowly averted disaster, and the program encountered numerous other near-misses that are less widely known. In the realm of low Earth orbit missions, the Soviet Soyuz program suffered two fatal reentry accidents, claiming two crews, and experienced at least four additional mission failures. The Space Shuttle program, despite its greater flight frequency compared to Apollo, tragically lost two crews, totaling 14 lives.
We must confront the inherent risks of space exploration with unwavering clarity. Traveling to the Moon in 2024 will not be significantly safer than it was in 1969. Exploration, by its very nature, involves risk, and this risk inevitably materializes with some regularity.
The true cost of Artemis will be measured in blood. This stark reality must be acknowledged.
Bringing up this sobering aspect may seem ill-timed when program approval is the immediate goal. Death is hardly a persuasive selling point. However, neglecting this crucial element will leave the program vulnerable to collapse at the first sign of tragedy.
Personally, this risk, while profound, is acceptable when weighed against the potential rewards. However, the nation must consciously decide to place individuals in harm’s way. This commitment is justifiable only because of the substantial benefits that are anticipated. If public support falters at the first accident due to a failure to anticipate such risks, it would have been better not to embark on this journey at all.
Reflecting on the Oregon Trail, a poignant plaque quotation reminds us: “Every few yards along the trail there was some jettisoned furniture or luggage; every quarter mile the carcass of a horse or oxen, and every mile a grave.” Echoing this sentiment, Winston Churchill famously declared to the Canadian Parliament: “We have not journeyed all this way across the centuries, across the oceans, across the mountains, across the prairies, because we are made of sugar candy.”
We stand at a crossroads. We must meticulously evaluate both the costs and the potential rewards.
Only then can we commit, or choose to remain grounded.
My vote is to venture forth.
