Centauri Dreams

I’ve been thinking all weekend about Dandridge Cole, the aerospace engineer and futurist whose death at age 44 deprived interstellar studies of one of its most insightful advocates. Cole died in 1965, just five years before a deadline he himself set (in 1953!) for a manned landing on the Moon. But then, the former paratrooper from Ohio thought a lot about the future and the need for a kind of ‘future studies’ that would look at current technological trends and project going forward just as conventional historical studies reconstruct what happened to us in centuries past.

The heart attack that struck Cole down in his office at General Electric’s Space Technology Center in Valley Forge, PA deprived us of much, but we do have the substantial legacy of a number of articles and monographs, along with three books, among which Islands in Space: The Challenge of the Planetoids, written with Donald Cox (Chilton Books, 1964) may stand out as the most influential. Andreas Hein, who is heading up the Project Hyperion worldship study for Icarus Interstellar, harks back to the inspiration of Cole in The Hollow Asteroid Starship: Dissemination of an Idea, published on the Icarus blog late last week.

Image: Dandridge Cole, who coined the term ‘macro-life’ to refer to human colonies in space and their evolution. Credit: Wikimedia Commons.

The idea is now a familiar one to science fiction fans, especially after its appropriation by George Zebrowski in his 1979 novel Macrolife, but in the mid-60s, the notion of hollowing out an asteroid to create an interstellar vehicle would hardly have been common currency. As Hein comments in his article, what Cole was doing was creating a bridge between the kind of space colonies that Gerard O’Neill would make famous and the worldships that might one day take a large human colony, a self-contained society, to a distant star.

The idea has resonance because star journeys may turn out to be multi-generational affairs that evolve naturally out of our eventually mastered skills at creating self-contained habitats in nearby space. If you can build a ship large enough and comfortable enough to re-create a planet-like environment within it, then living there might become so natural that future generations born aboard the craft would see no need for planetary living. A colony world like that might eventually disengage from the stellar system that created it and begin a voyage that would have no other aim than continuing exploration, taking ‘home’ with the crew wherever it went.

Artist and futurist Roy Scarfo provided the artwork in Cole’s 1965 book Beyond Tomorrow. On his site, Scarfo recalls going with Cole in the ambulance and being in the hospital at the time of his death. A futurist to the end, Cole had planned to have his body frozen and had made a serious study of cryogenics:

When we got to the hospital, the hospital personnel took him to a room. When they informed me that Dan was dead, and knowing that Dan wanted to be frozen, I called Ettinger, who I believe was in Chicago and who was the authority on cryogenics at the time. He knew Dan and instructed me to get in touch with a hospital and make arrangements for freezing. I believe it was the University of Pennsylvania hospital. I was racing against time as every second counted to preserve the body.

Personal and legal issues persuaded the family not to proceed with the arrangements, and Cole was buried conventionally, with Scarfo serving as one of the pallbearers.

Scarfo also wrote an appreciation of Cole on Alex Michael Bonnici’s Discovery Enterprise site in which he recalls working with Cole on Beyond Tomorrow in the evenings after work in Scarfo’s office at GE, where they would go over the chapters word by word. Says Scarfo:

Our work together gave us a handle as “the weird couple” because of the way-out material we were producing together. Today many of those concepts are as common as soap. The majority of our work together was done outside our regular responsibilities at GE, although sometimes they overlapped. We would meet almost daily for lunch at the cafeteria and afterward walk and talk during the rest of our lunch hour. This went on for years.

We’re surely due for a renewed look at Cole’s contribution and his ideas, especially as attention now turns to mining and the other possibilities the asteroids represent. Alex Michael Bonnici wrote his own tribute to Cole in 2007, one that encapsulates the asteroid-as-habitat idea:

In 1963, Cole wrote Exploring the Secrets of Space: Astronautics for the Layman with I. M. Levitt. In this book they suggested hollowing out an ellipsoidal asteroid about 30 km long, and rotating it about its major axis to simulate gravity. By reflecting sunlight inside with mirrors, and creating, on its inner surface, a pastoral setting an asteroid could be transformed into a permanent space colony. Cole and Cox also envisioned that asteroids would provide the raw materials to form the basis of a spacefaring civilization. And, that asteroidal materials would also serve terrestrial needs. In their view these materials could be transported using mass drivers or linear motors. Cole’s work largely presages that of Gerard K. O’Neill by more than a decade.

Extend the notion to an interstellar journey and you get what Cole would call a ‘nomadic pseudo-Earth’ that would be the seeding ground for so-called ‘macro-life.’ Cole’s view was that future human evolution inside such habitats, which includes synchrony between humans, their environment, and their technology, creates a ‘new large-scale life form.’ It was one he felt we must become, for in the years not long before his death, he had become extremely worried about our species not only in terms of population pressure but also weapons proliferation. Moving into space would be the chance to give humanity a progressing series of new and better starts.

Image: The populated asteroid from without and within. Credit: Roy Scarfo.

Here’s TIME‘s take on Cole’s macro-life views in a January 27, 1961 article:

Cole proposes the development of giant spaceships, each of which would contain at least 10,000 individual humans who would function rather like the cells of a multicelled animal; collectively, they would constitute what Cole calls a unit of “macrolife.” Stowed along with the humans in the vast body of the macroorganism would be domestic animals, plants, raw materials, machines and computers, as well as microfilms of all the books in the Library of Congress. A fully developed unit of macrolife would have rocket propulsion to enable it to move at will around the solar system. It would be able to live independently almost anywhere in space, but its normal habitat would be the asteroid belt between Mars and Jupiter where it could feed upon the mineral riches of the asteroids.

Macrolife in space would be self-adjusting, spinning off new units aboard new asteroids as necessary, but Cole freely acknowledged the difficulties in creating self-sustaining biospheres, urging that underwater bases or other sealed environments would need to become experimental testbeds for his ideas. A spacefaring species aboard a hollowed-out world, spun up for artificial gravity and provided with many of the amenities of planetary life, could well take to the stars one day. But in any case, Cole’s legacy of insightful probings of the human future will endure, the work of a man whose all too short life yielded much and has inspired interstellar theorists ever since.

For more on Cole, see Joseph Friedlander’s In Praise of Large Payloads for Space.

Our expectations determine so much of what we see, which is one of the great lessons of Michael Michaud’s sweeping study of our attitudes toward extraterrestrial intelligence in Contact with Alien Civilizations (Springer, 2006). But extraterrestrials aside, I’ve also been musing over how our attitudes affect our perceptions in relation to something closer to home, the human space program. Recently I was reminded of Richard Gott’s views on the space program and the Copernican Principle, which suggest that just as our location in the universe is not likely to be special, neither is our location in time.

My expectation, for example, is that whether it takes one or many centuries, we will eventually have expanded far enough into the Solar System to make the technological transition to interstellar missions. But Gott (Princeton University) has been arguing since 2007 that there is simply no assurance of continued growth. In fact, his work indicates we are as likely to be experiencing the latter stages of the space program as its beginnings. The view is controversial and I like to return to it now and again because it so shrewdly questions all our assumptions.

Image: Apollo 17 Saturn V rocket on Pad 39-A at dusk. Will manned space exploration ever achieve the levels of funding that made Apollo possible again? Credit: NASA.

So ponder a different, much more Earth-bound future, one in which funding for human spaceflight may end permanently. Examples abound, from the pyramid-building phase of Egypt’s civilization to the return of Cheng Ho’s fleet to China — not every wave of technology is followed up. Thus Gott, in a short but intriguing discussion called A Goal for the Human Spaceflight Program:

Once lost, opportunities may not come again. The human spaceflight program is only 48 years old. The Copernican Principle tells us that our location is not likely to be special. If our location within the history of human space travel is not special, there is a 50% chance that we are in the last half now and that its future duration is less than 48 years (cf. Gott, 2007). If the human spaceflight program has a much longer future duration than this, then we would be lucky to be living in the first tiny bit of it. Bayesian statistics warn us against accepting hypotheses that imply our observations are lucky. It would be prudent to take the above Copernican estimate seriously since it assumes that we are not particularly lucky or unlucky in our location in time, and a wise policy should aim to protect us even against some bad luck. With such a short past track record of funding, it would be a mistake to count on much longer and better funding in the future.

This application of the Copernican Principle goes against my deepest presumptions, which is why I appreciate the intellectual gauntlet it hurls down. Because what Gott is sketching is a by no means impossible future, one in which the real question becomes how we can best use the technologies we have today and will have in the very near future to ensure species survival. Gott’s answer is that within the first half of this century or so, we will have the capability of planting a self-sustaining colony on Mars, making us a two-planet species and thus better protected against global disaster of whatever sort. We will have created an insurance policy for all humanity.

Let’s act, in other words, as if we don’t have the luxury of an unbroken line of gradual development, because an end to the space program some time in the 21st Century might mark the end of any chance we have to get into the Solar System, much less to the stars. Skip the return to the Moon, a hostile environment not conducive to colonization, and go for the one best chance for extending the species, a planet with water, reasonable gravity and the resources needed to get an underground base off to a survivable start. The real space race? The race to get a colony planted in the most likely spot before all funding for human spaceflight ends.

Gott is reminded of the library of Alexandria, a laudable effort to collect human knowledge but one that eventually burned, taking most (but thankfully not all) of Sophocles’ plays with it. Here he’s thinking of the surviving seven Sophoclean plays and weighing them against the 120 that the dramatist wrote, by way of making the case for off-world colonies as soon as possible:

We should be planting colonies off the Earth now as a life insurance policy against whatever unexpected catastrophes may await us on the Earth. Of course, we should still be doing everything possible to protect our environment and safeguard our prospects on the Earth. But chaos theory tells us that we may well be unable to predict the specific cause of our demise as a species. By definition, whatever causes us to go extinct will be something the likes of which we have not experienced so far. We simply may not be smart enough to know how best to spend our money on Earth to insure the greatest chance of survival here. Spending money planting colonies in space simply gives us more chances–like storing some of Sophocles’ plays away from the Alexandrian library.

As I said, this is bracing stuff (and thanks to Larry Klaes for the pointer). Gott is not the only one wondering whether there is a brief window that will allow us to move into the Solar System and then close, but he is becoming one of the more visible proponents of this view. The motto of the Tau Zero Foundation — ad astra incrementis — assumes a step-by-step process over what may be centuries to develop the technologies for travel to other stars. But Gott’s point is emphatic and much more urgent: For incremental development in space to occur, we should multiply the civilizations that can achieve it, spinning off colonies that back up what we have learned against future catastrophe.

That’s a job not for the distant future but for the next 4-5 decades. Gott reckons that if we put up into low Earth orbit as much tonnage in the next 48 years as we have in the last 48 years (in Saturn V and Shuttle launches alone) we could deliver 2,304 tons to the surface of Mars. And while he talks about heavy lift vehicles like the Ares V, we also have commercial companies like SpaceX with its Falcon Heavy concept and the continuing efforts of Robert Zubrin’s Mars Society to make something like this happen even absent massive government intervention.

Will the first interstellar mission be assembled not by an Earth team but by the scientists and engineers of a colony world we have yet to populate? There is no way to tell, but a Mars colony of the kind Gott advocates would give us at least one alternative to a future Earth with no viable space program and no prospects for energizing the species through an expansive wave of exploration. One colony can plant another, multiplying the hope not only of survival but renaissance. But all of it depends upon getting through a narrow temporal window that even now may be closing.