Category Why Mars

On April 2, 2007, Alan Stern, age 50, joined NASA. A one-time astronaut candi­date, Stern had a $5.4 billion budget to manage and a constituency up in arms. He pledged to wring more good science out of his budget and to stop “manage­ment by checkbook,” that is, constantly adding money to projects beyond their original cost estimates. Either principal investigators would manage projects within costs, or they would risk project cancellations, he said.63 “There are going to be things I do that cause pain.”64

Griffin had appointed Stern in part to help him deal with the scientific com­munity. Cleave had never been truly accepted by the community. Stern bolstered his office’s status by appointing John Mather to be his chief scientist. Mather was a cowinner of the Nobel Prize for Physics in 2006 for his discoveries connected with the big bang. With Stern (planets) and Mather (telescopes) in charge, space scientists had to take the NASA science leadership seriously.65

Griffin, meanwhile, continued to criticize the scientific community. In May, he accused NAS of failing to take account of realistic costs in its decadal surveys of space science needs. The NAS SSB, he charged, routinely—and dramati­cally—underestimated costs and then complained when NASA scaled back or cancelled projects the science body favored. An NAS spokesman acknowledged that Griffin had a point.66

Stern reinforced Griffin, explaining that scientists were involved in a zero – sum game. Echoing Marburger, he noted that to make room for new projects, NASA would have to turn off long-running projects. One of the longest-run­ning and most celebrated projects under Stern’s aegis was that of Spirit and Opportunity. In May, Spirit made a major discovery. It analyzed a patch of Mars soil that was extremely rich in silica. This provided some of the most convinc­ing evidence yet that ancient Mars was quite wet. The processes that generally produced such a concentrated deposit of silica required the presence of water.

“You could hear people gasp in astonishment,” said Squyres, the principal investigator. “This is a remarkable discovery. And the fact that we found some­thing this new and different after nearly 1200 days on Mars makes it even more remarkable. It makes you wonder what else is still out there.”67 Obviously, long – running, still-productive projects like the Mars Exploration Rovers would not go quietly, particularly when led by a scientist with a public relations sense like Squyres.

Stern was a change agent in temperament but, unlike Huntress, was uncom­fortable and unskilled in bureaucratic politics. Stern was impatient with the routines and constraints of operating in a complex organization. Huntress was a quiet entrepreneur. Stern was overt and public. Stern called his administrative philosophy “pragmatism,” and what he meant by that was “exchanging” more perfect solutions for more practical ones by using existing systems, modified to the least extent practical, to accelerate the pace of exploration.68 He applied that approach to Mars. The goal was MSR—this is what counted. To move the date for MSR closer would mean modifying the schedule of missions he inherited and converting MSL into even more a means toward MSR than it already was. In the long-standing tug-of-intellectual-war between leapers and gradualists, Stern was emphatically a leaper in the sense of wanting to get to MSR quickly.

The problem he had was resistance to the changes he wanted to impose and suspicions on the part of many Mars advocates about his motives. This was especially the case because he was seeking to innovate in a major way in a time of budget stasis. To do the new, he had to cut back on the old, including Mars projects that did not fit into his “pragmatic” philosophy. And he was in a hurry.

Griffin focused on human spaceflight and was reluctant to cope with the scientific community—a group he found vexing. He told Stern he would have a relatively free hand to run SMD. Stern took him seriously and told his staff he “had the keys to the program.”69 He wanted to reshape it in accord with his priorities. Many worried Mars advocates saw him as an “outer planets” man, but he vowed he also had a strong interest in Mars. However, he intended to move Mars research in a better direction. For example, one month after he arrived, JPL came to him asking for more money for MSL. He wanted that practice to stop. What he really wanted to do was to speed up MSR. As he recalled, “What I wanted was to give Mars Sample Return a higher priority. Since I was a boy, people have been talking about Mars Sample Return. I wanted to move it for­ward. . . . I wanted to get the first sample back as soon as possible—unlock the door. An imperfect sample return would be better than none at all.”

He spoke to Griffin and told him about his MSR priority. Griffin responded, “Let’s go.” And Stern was off and running.70 On July io, Stern used a telephone hookup to speak to some 500 Mars scientists attending the 7th International Conference on Mars. He said that it was time for NASA to target MSR in a seri­ous way. A new Mars astrobiology strategy recommended by the SSB set “analy­sis of a diverse suite of appropriate samples” as the highest-priority Mars science objective.71 In keeping with this recommendation, Stern said NASA needed to reorient the existing program as soon as possible in spite of the constrained budget. He proposed to begin by attaching equipment to MSL which would allow it to capture a sample of soil and rock as it moved across the Mars surface. “I think there’s something concrete about putting your stake in the ground,” he declared. Retrieving the sample would come later. Such a return mission would be costly, he stated, perhaps $3 billion to $4 billion. To get that kind of money would require skipping a mission between MSL and MSR. However, he said the lost mission would be worth it, given the significance of MSR. MSR would build support for the planetary program, he argued, in the scientific community, public, Congress, and OMB.

He pointed out that even at the present scaled-back level that the Mars pro­gram had undergone, it still absorbed almost half of all the money the planetary

program had—46%. The Mars community, he urged, should thread the needle. He warned that if the community did not opt for concentrating resources in the manner he described, the Mars budget would shrink. “That’s my analysis,” he said, “not my wish. . . that’s my analysis of the way the politics will go.” He called for an MSR mission in 2018. “Let’s get this done.. . make some history,” he exhorted.72

The Mars community reacted with considerable wariness. MSR was indeed the holy grail of the robotic program. It was the goal toward which the sequence of missions designed by Hubbard and implemented by Figueroa and now Mc – Cuistion moved, the culmination of the “follow-the-water” strategy. What sent a shiver through the community was the trade-off. Stern’s comment about drop­ping a mission to get the money sent a signal of alarm. Which mission? There were many Mars scientists who were not astrobiologists and had other technical interests. And would omitting one mission be enough?

Philip Christensen, a leading Mars scientist and professor of geological sci­ences at Arizona State University, spoke for many of his colleagues when he declared, “I am concerned that the sample return mission would take over the Mars program. If you put that mission too far in the future with not much in between, then you lose a lot of momentum. . . a lot of young talented scientists and engineers.” He saw “a real serious challenge” in carving out enough money in the near term to pay for MSR and still maintain a dynamic program.73

Zubrin wrote an op-ed in Space News entitled “Don’t Wreck the Mars Pro­gram.” He indicated that Stern was possibly thinking beyond killing one mission for MSR, to the point of considering sacrificing all missions, including the 2011 Scout project, to get money for sample return. Zubrin defended the robotic program as an essential precursor to human flight. “Since the origin a decade ago, the existing fly-every-opportunity robotic Mars program has proven to be a brilliant success.” He claimed to be no fan of Dan Goldin, but he gave the former NASA Administrator credit for launching a “sustained exploration program involving frequent launches” which created not only an infrastructure on Mars but a “proficient team competent to carry out ever more complex Mars missions.”74

Stern was undeterred by the criticism. He directed Ames to design a caching box for the MSL. Chris McKay, one-time Mars Underground leader and now an astrobiologist at Ames, was one who supported the push for MSR by starting with changes in the MSL rover. Indeed, he wanted to go further. He called on NASA and the Mars community to think not of one sample return mission, but a program of missions. The first sample return, he said, should be a “simple, pathfinder-like sample return… a technology demonstration.”

By using MSL to cache samples, NASA would get people to begin focusing on sample return as a goal, said McKay. “It ties sample return to the ongoing program. There’s a tendency to think of sample return as something ‘out there.’ … It doesn’t need to be. It can be something in the Mars program.” McKay argued that sample return had to “connect, ultimately, with human exploration of Mars.”75

The European Space Agency, meanwhile, expressed interest in cooperating with NASA on an MSR mission. NASA indicated openness to the possibility, and discussions began in a very general, long-range way.76 Stern had wasted no time in putting his stamp on the implementation of MEP.

As Stern planned what the next development steps in the Mars program would be, the operating program he inherited continued to move forward. In August, NASA launched the first Scout mission. In contrast to the other proj­ects, this mission was generated through a competition in the scientific com­munity and largely run by non-NASA scientists. A Scout mission was intended to be smaller in cost and personnel than a typical NASA/JPL venture. However, it had to be relevant to the NASA strategy, i. e., follow the water.

The goal of Phoenix, as designed by the University of Arizona’s Peter Smith, was to go near the Martian North Pole and “touch” water ice. From Lederberg’s entreaties at the time of Viking, there had been the view that near the poles there would be water (in the form of ice) and evidence of possible life. Phoe­nix would not be equipped to actually determine life issues. Moreover, it was stationary, not a rover. But at $400 million, it did carry a digging capability. It would try to penetrate the ice and see what characteristics it had that might be favorable or unfavorable to life. MPL had had this objective, but it had crashed. Phoenix “rose from the ashes” to take MPL’s place.77

As NASA dealt with two missions (Mars Exploration Rovers and MSL) in vary­ing stages along a project cycle, its longer-run hopes for the MAX-C mission rested considerably on ESA and ExoMars decisions. Dordain was having trou­ble getting consensus from the nations to which he reported. France and Britain expressed reluctance to commit to the 2016 planned launch because of questions about who did what in 2018. Dordain complained he had to have decisions by June 29-30, when the Industrial Policy Committee met. That way he could get contractors moving July 1. “If we are not ready to launch the orbiter in 2016, there is no 2018 mission. If I delay agreeing to ExoMars financing until ques­tions about the rover are settled, industry could later tell me I am responsible for their missing the 2016 launch window. I do not want this.” He expected to alleviate some of the concerns expressed about the 2018 mission through the letter from Bolden confirming NASA’s intention to jointly develop the 2018 mission with ESA. He expected that letter June 28.52

It arrived late in the day on June 29. Bolden wrote that NASA would do its utmost to commit to the 2018 mission by September 15, when it hoped to have more clarity about its budget prospects. At this point, Bolden did not know what resources he would have. That reality meant delay on the 2016 decision until September 29-30 when the Industrial Policy Committee would take up the issue again.

Dordain decided that ESA had sufficient existing authority to fund work on ExoMars 2016 to keep an industrial team working on it at a minimal level for a few months. This would enable the mission to go full speed later to make up time for the 2016 launch date—assuming the United States came through with assurance in September and the Industrial Policy Committee gave its go-ahead. Dordain and the Industrial Policy Committee did not wish to foreclose options. Doing nothing amounted to a decision to kill ExoMars 2016, and without the 2016 mission, the 2018 project could be in jeopardy.53

On July 7, Italian Space Agency president Enrico Saggese said that his agency would be willing to sacrifice an entry, descent, and landing module planned for the 2016 flight if that would put the project back on track. Italy’s sacrifice mattered. Italy was the biggest contributor to ExoMars 2016, with 33% of the

ESA budget. Saggese said Italy wanted the collaboration to survive and launch ExoMars 2018. Yannick d’Escatha, president of the French Space Agency (with 15% of the spending on the mission), said his agency would also be willing to sacrifice the entry and descent module to reduce the possibility of the 2016 mis­sion exceeding its budget and threatening the 2018 project.

ESA’s biggest hurdle was NASA’s inability to confirm its role in the 2018 rover mission. Bolden had asked ESA to wait until September, when he could say more about NASA’s commitment. But ESA worried that waiting until mid- September before fully approving the 2016 mission would compromise the 2016 launch date. Dordain decided that ESA would wait until October 1 to make a final decision, meaning it would continue to find the money to keep the con­tractor team going on a skeletal basis with short-term contracts. Missing the 2016 launch date would threaten the 2018 mission since the 2016 mission would provide a telecommunications relay the 2018 rover would need to send informa­tion back to Earth.54

Few individuals or institutions are truly “against” Mars exploration. Opponents are concerned with the issue of priority and whether Mars gets too much versus the outer planets or some other science (or nonscience) option. Throughout the history ofMars exploration, there have been “opponents” who are, in fact, advo­cates for another priority. Their rhetoric typically calls for “balance.” Likewise, there have always been those who oppose federal spending in general, especially for programs they see as nonurgent. Larger, macropolitical forces invariably impinge on decision making in a specific policy sector, such as space. Big science is an inviting target for budget cutters, whether in OMB or Congress.

There have been a number of pressing alternatives within space policy to Mars exploration over the decades, such as Earth’s Moon in the 1960s and Ju­piter’s moon, Europa, in the twenty-first century. Europa also may have life— under its ice. In late 2011, with level NASA funding, Mars came up against huge overruns in the James Webb Space Telescope. This project had extremely influential political support in Congress, more so than Mars. Mars Observer in the 1980s had to wait on the Hubble Space Telescope. Now Mars would wait on Hubble’s successor.

There is only so much money for big science (concentrated or distributed). Unless advocates of Mars make their case strongly and well, they will not neces­sarily get their way. It may be easier to cut a distributed big science program, like Mars, than one that is concentrated in structure, such as the James Webb Space Telescope. A specific mission within a distributed program can be extracted more easily than killing a massive concentrated program, at least one that is well along in implementation.

Politics is about “who gets what, when, and how.” Politics applies to plan­etary science as much as to other fields. Who is to say that Hubble was not deserving of being ahead in line for shuttle launch after the Challenger disas­ter set it against Mars Observer? Earth observation satellites relate to climate change and, arguably, the long-term survival of the human species. Advocates for this part of the space program have a legitimate case to make. Their advo­cates have done so. Proponents of human spaceflight continually press NASA— and, indirectly, robotic Mars missions—for resources. In the long run, human spaceflight and Mars exploration are mutually dependent. In the short run, they compete. Figueroa’s comment that the relationship between these two major NASA programs is akin to that between an elephant and a mouse is apt. NASA Administrator Bolden, in the wake of the Obama budget proposal for FY 2013, set in motion a planning effort for Mars which more strongly linked robotic and human spaceflight. Administrators have sought such a linkage before and sel­dom succeeded in forging a true partnership. The human and robotic programs represent two different cultures within NASA.

Unfortunately, there is never enough money for all worthy endeavors. Ad­vocates of alternatives to Mars become opponents of spending on robotic Mars flights even though that is not necessarily their intent. Similarly, flagship mis­sions become barriers to spending on “little science,” and there can be divisions within the Mars community. NASA centers vie with one another and with uni­versities and industry. The debate is not about good versus bad, but about vari­ous “goods.” Over the long haul, Mars exploration has advanced to the extent that it has prevailed over the “opposition,” or found ways to reach some measure of accommodation through alliances.

Mars exploration is a striking example of big science. Big science is character­ized by large organizations, multidisciplinary teams, great expense, government management, and, often, political controversy. There are various examples of big science, at NASA and other agencies, but this Mars endeavor especially illuminates “programmatic” or “distributed” big science. Much big science is concentrated in a single huge machine. But distributed big science in this case consists of missions (also called projects) that make up an extended, multidecadal program of exploration. Projects may be closely or loosely coupled. Some of the individual missions are “big” by any standard, in the sense of having billion – dollar costs. Others are moderate by big science standards, costing hundreds of millions. There was a time in the 1990s when Mars missions were pushed hard to be “faster, better, cheaper” (FBC), attributes that usually meant smaller. But Mars missions have subsequently grown, with MSL listed at $2.5 billion.

Moreover, when the individual missions are aggregated in a coherent program, the combination is obviously very large in scale.

While specific numbers are hard to delineate or aggregate precisely over a half century or more, it is virtually certain that NASA has spent more money on Mars than any other single planet over its existence as an agency. In recent years, approximately one-half of the planetary budget has gone to Mars, and the planet has had its own director in NASA Headquarters and at JPL. Whereas the Cassini mission to Saturn was an example of concentrated, multibillion-dollar big science, the missions to Mars are spread out, with projects of varying scales. The Mars missions are distributed in time—taking place over decades. They are also distributed in purpose—orbiters, landers, and rovers. This is not only big science but an example of a large technical system in action. When Phoenix landed on Mars in 2008, an orbiting Mars satellite photographed the event. At the same time, Spirit and Opportunity roved the terrain. Similarly, Mars Recon­naissance Orbiter “watched” as MSL descended to Mars in 2012. The national policy to create a “sustained. . . robotic presence” on Mars was realized.

Big science is important to better comprehend because it represents a high priority within an agency and within a national budget. Big science projects can be high-visibility “flagships” for an agency and often for a country. In execu­tion, big science projects link government, university, and industry into large and diverse teams, increasingly with international partners. Big science entails extremely challenging management and political issues. It absorbs much of the agency’s money and prevents smaller efforts from being undertaken. The politi­cal dilemmas—who gets what, when, and how—can be the most difficult of all to resolve in making a long-term big science program succeed.

Webb’s reason for concern—the diminution of political support for space— was glaringly obvious, and that worry was magnified by a disastrous unforeseen event. Shortly after the budget submission in early January 1967, the Apollo fire of January 27 occurred. It killed three astronauts while they were training at Cape Canaveral. Immediately, almost everything at NASA was put on hold, while the agency coped with the disaster and its aftermath. Webb personally dealt with the president and the congressional investigation. He got Apollo through the six-month ordeal following the fire relatively unscathed and made personnel and organizational changes that strengthened the agency and con­tractor system for completing the Apollo project. But he himself was weakened as he drew the media and political focus of the investigation to himself and shielded the organization, thereby expending much of his political capital.9

Also, opponents of NASA in Congress from both the right and left used the Apollo fire to attack NASA and siphon funds from space to other areas of spending (such as the Vietnam War and social programs for the cities). Congress wanted to make substantial cuts, not in Apollo but in other space programs, including Voyager, projected to cost in the billions over time. In the summer and fall of 1967, debate raged in Congress over the NASA budget. Johnson, meanwhile, grew desperate to find money for Vietnam and domestic priorities and to deal with a soaring federal deficit. He was even proposing a tax increase. In August, he declared that the country’s financial situation had changed over the months since he had submitted his budget. He had “to distinguish between

the necessary and the desirable.”10 Apollo was protected, but Webb had to de­cide what other priorities to keep and what to let go. Johnson gave him leeway to choose, and Congress pushed the NASA Administrator to state his priorities unequivocally. Webb strongly resisted.

The NASA Administrator wanted to keep Voyager, a key to NASA’s future after Apollo. But several senior academic scientists testified against it. Even more damaging, Webb was undermined by his own agency, or at least the Manned Spacecraft Center (MSC). In July, the Houston center had sent out a request for proposals for human missions to Mars and Venus. Webb was aghast, furi­ous with the political insensitivity of MSC. In fighting to keep Voyager against congressional budget cutters, Webb had taken great pains to link it rhetorically with scientific discovery, not human spaceflight. His allies in Congress had done the same. Virtually everyone knew that the mood of Congress and the country was against Mars decisions involving human spaceflight at this point.11

But Houston did not get the bureaucratic strategy. Legislative opponents of NASA immediately seized on the Houston announcement as ammunition in the context of Johnson’s statement about deciding “between the necessary and the desirable.” They charged that Voyager was a “foot in the door” for human spaceflight to Mars.12 Now they had what they considered the smoking gun of evidence. Support for Voyager, tenuous at best, evaporated. Saying they had to nip a covert human Mars program in the bud, legislative opponents persuaded Congress to kill Voyager in late October 1967. To make their point unmistak­ably clear, they also terminated a Mariner orbital flight of 1971 which NASA had proposed to help locate a place for Voyager to land. The only planetary mission remaining was a two-Mariner flyby of Mars for 1969. The Mars advocates and planetary science community in general were shocked, devastated, and, to some degree, chastened.

This was what Viking was all about, at least that was the message NASA had communicated to the public: the search for life. The core of the scientific team for exobiology consisted of six biologists. Lederberg was one. The leader was Harold “Chuck” Klein of Ames. Sagan was not officially on the biology team. His role was in the site-selection group. However, he was deeply involved with the exobiologists and was unquestionably Viking’s public face. Never had a NASA robotic mission been conducted in such a fishbowl environment. The media were present in force, hanging on to every word the scientists and Martin said.

Sagan had continually fanned the flames of public expectation by his com­ments. His book The Cosmic Connection had appeared in 1973 and became a best seller. He was a regular on the late-night television program the Tonight Show, hosted by Johnny Carson. While other exobiologists speculated about finding microbial life, Sagan spoke of “macrobes.” These would be organisms large enough to be seen by Viking’s camera. “For all we know,” he said, “there is a thriving population of large organisms on the planet. Nothing in our present understanding ofMars excludes this possibility.”63 Talking about Viking, Sagan’s rhetoric could soar. “Viking will be remembered, if it works, the rest of human history. It deals with the deepest question that human beings have asked as long as they have been human beings.”64 He was correct, of course, but Sagan’s parenthetical “if it works” tended to be de-emphasized in the translation from scientist to media to public. Hinners kept trying to control him to some degree, without success.65

The scientists on the biology team varied in their assessments of the pros­pects. When asked, Klein declared that “among the biologists on the team, the odds go all the way from one chance in ten down to maybe one chance in a mil­lion. Depends on which one of the biologists you talk to. Mine are one chance in 50, which I think are not bad [odds].” The key, he said, was the “payoff,” if life were found.66

Klein was worried, however, about the downside of failure. Most of the prominent scientists involved in Viking were academics. He was a government scientist and could feel the pressures of nonsuccess after such a public relations buildup (and $1 billion investment). He confided that NASA was putting too much emphasis “on the question of life.” He worried about what would happen if Viking failed to find life.67 No one knew more than he that the selection of experiments represented something of a “shotgun” approach. Were these shots in the dark despite the careful efforts of NASA and distinguished scientists? He would rather have followed the incremental approach that Murray had ex­pounded, particularly since so little was known about the surface chemistry of Mars.68 But NASA as an institution had gone for the “great leap” strategy, and he was now fully part of that effort.

In July, the Phobos mission was ready to go. There would be two probes sent, one July 7, the other July 12. There was great expectation and attention paid to the flight in the United States. The Soviet Union had not tried to go to Mars since 1973, and it had failed then. Success potentially meant initiation of a more robust Mars program in both the Soviet Union and the United States, with col­laboration a central, political purpose.

Science magazine spoke of “Mars Mania,” highlighting the enthusiasm and expectation that were building. American dignitaries went to the Soviet Union to watch the Phobos launch, and U. S. scientists prepared to participate in re­search Phobos made possible. In return, NASA had agreed that Soviet scientists could participate in Mars Observer research. NASA and JPL worked to incor­porate the Mars balloon relay system into Mars Observer development.38

The launch for Phobos was spectacular, and the various Western dignitar­ies who attended were impressed. Sagdeev, who had spearheaded the mission, called previous attempts with small bodies like Phobos a “quick kiss.” This was going to be a prolonged dalliance, he said.39 But relatively early into what was a seven-month flight, on August 31, problems arose on the Phobos 1 space­craft. Flight controllers in the Soviet Union sent Phobos 1 a radio command that “lacked a single character.” This error confused “its navigation system” and moved “its solar panels out of alignment with the sun.” Without adequate power, Phobos і ran into severe difficulty.

A “forlorn” Sagdeev was photographed behind a model of the Phobos space­craft at the U. S. ambassador’s residence in Moscow. It was September 9, and he had to announce that Phobos і seemed doomed, tumbling out of control mil­lions of miles from Earth. By November, it would be officially ruled a failure.40 The Soviets and their allies still hoped for the success of Phobos 2. It reached Mars on January 29, 1989. Tass proudly announced that the planet Mars “has acquired one more satellite which will bring mankind closer to unraveling the mysteries of the planet.”41 It did return useful data on Mars and Phobos briefly. However, in late March, as it neared the long-anticipated Phobos rendezvous, it ceased to function.

The Phobos failure damaged the Soviet Mars program. The repercussions were dreadful for Mars advocates in the United States. At least for the moment, the dream shared across nations of a Mars Together initiative was on hold. An angry Sagdeev lashed out at engineer-managers who had had final control over technical design. Computer backups might have saved the mission, he com­plained, but were not available. “I hope that, in the future, space technology producers will have their absolute freedom restricted so that the world scientific community, as the end user of the technology, can have a say in decision making on spacecraft design.” That remark brought a retort from Roald Kremnev, as

ranking Phobos engineer, reminding Sagdeev that “space technology designers have to comply with a set of restrictions relating to the funds and the weight and size of the spacecraft, etc.” Scientists cannot expect to have their own way, he countered.42

The disappointment was deep not only in the Soviet Union but also in America. The Planetary Society and U. S. scientists associated with Phobos had banked on success of at least one of the two probes. They viewed Phobos not as a Soviet mission, but as a mission that “transcended” national borders and could lead to a regeneration of Mars flights in the United States.43 Scientists in the United States and the Soviet Union were linked in what they hoped would be a sequence of ever more challenging Mars missions. The Planetary Society saw Phobos as part of an overarching strategy to rekindle public interest in space, build bridges of peace between the United States and the Soviet Union, and pressure NASA to be more Mars oriented. Now, Mars exploration depended on what happened to the next flight in line, Mars Observer, in America. Also, Mars exploration depended on the man Fletcher had briefed on Mars policy following the Ride report, George H. W. Bush, elected president in November.

As 1999 began, NASA surged forward. NASA now planned an advanced rover, the kind analogous to one first discussed after Viking, which would traverse great distances and aid in identifying and collecting soil and rock samples. The sample would be reclaimed later and returned for analysis in Earth laboratories. The multistage mission was complicated and demanding. NASA knew it, but the collective attitude was exceedingly positive. The Jet Propulsion Laboratory appointed Bill O’Neill as Mars Sample Return project manager. An experienced leader, he enthusiastically began planning for the actions ahead. O’Neil called MSR “the most exciting, complex robotic space mission ever,” a mission that was “historic.”1

Clinton’s policy toward NASA continued to be mixed. His budget, an­nounced at the beginning of February, cut NASA by 1% from the preceding year. However, space science got another boost of $3.6 %.2 Mars exploration was obviously NASA’s lead planetary program. For Goldin, it was much more. Mars was the destination about which he had been thinking since he was a boy.3

Goldin set up a “Decadal Planning Team” and enlisted the space science and human spaceflight directors in its support. He also established an activity called HEDS—for Human Exploration and Development of Space. This enterprise aimed at getting various parts of NASA to think about robotic and human Mars exploration. They would address, for example, the kinds of sensors that robotic

spacecraft to Mars might carry to help future astronauts.4 He instructed the Decadal Planning Team to think beyond the space station. “I want to get people to Mars for the right reasons,” he said.5 He truly believed that human spaceflight to Mars would be possible in the not-too-distant future, and it was time to plan for that eventuality. Toward that end, he expected the robotic and human programs to join forces. But Goldin’s vision was cut short by unexpected and painful reality. NASA suffered a major setback in its Mars program and had to step back, rethink, and formulate a different strategy—in fact, a new program.

The timing and substance of the president’s announcement could not be dis­connected from what happened with the MEP. If Spirit succeeded, it would be much easier to herald a new human program to the Moon and Mars. But there was reason to be wary. Other countries recently had joined the United States in the Mars quest. They were finding the Red Planet as daunting as the pioneering nations, the United States and Russia, had. The Japanese on December 9 had to declare a Mars mission they had sent a failure. They were unable to put their probe into its intended orbit. On Christmas Eve, the European Space Agency did achieve Mars orbit with its Mars Express, but the Beagle 2 lander/rover it carried failed the next day.30

Weiler’s comment about Mars being “a death planet” had justification. O’Keefe, Weiler, and Elachi were all present on Saturday night, January 5, 2004, at JPL’s mission control room as Spirit made its long-awaited attempt to land. Because of the distance between Mars and Earth, there was a gap of several minutes between what happened on Mars and signals of what happened were received on Earth. “I’m scared,” admitted Weiler. “An awful lot of things have to go right. . . it’s up to the Gods now.” Carrying its 384-pound rover NASA described as a PhD field geologist in capability, the spacecraft began its harrow­ing descent to Mars. It entered Mars’s atmosphere at 12,000 miles per hour and had six minutes to carry out a series of automated maneuvers that would lead to either a safe landing or a disaster. Weiler called this period of time “six minutes from Hell.”31

Spirit made it. When the signal arrived that the spacecraft had safely con­cluded its bounce-after-bounce landing, joy erupted at JPL mission control. Scientists, engineers, and NASA officials cheered. Naderi cried. He “ran down

the corridor to see Theisinger [the project manager].” He was emotional too. Everyone “hugged one another.”32 Sean O’Keefe opened a bottle of champagne. The celebration was one of immense relief. “There are probably several hun­dred people here for whom it’s the best day of their lives,” one scientist told a Washington Post reporter. At a news conference a little later, O’Keefe stated, “This is a big night for NASA.” “We’re back!” he exclaimed, “and we’re on Mars.”33 O’Keefe later told Elachi, “You saved the agency.”34

The significance of Spirit’s achievement for the White House was indicated by Bush’s science advisor, John Marburger, who was also among the notables at JPL. “This is going to give everybody a big boost,” he commented. “It gives a big boost to the American people. Obviously, this helps a lot to instill confidence in any policy step that you make.”35

In June, MSL went through a Critical Design Review (CDR), the most signifi­cant decision point since the 2006 PDR. It revealed that some of the problems that had surfaced at the PDR, especially those of the actuators, had not been solved. NASA would have to go back to more conventional actuators, and that would add money and time. Figueroa, who chaired the CDR, warned Stern he would need to put more money into MSL and should not make any unnecessary changes in design. But Stern was determined to speed MSR. By September,

Stern faced the reality that if he wanted to add a sample-collecting capability to MSL, he would have to subtract certain other capabilities. The problem was that costs kept going up. He had taken office promising to end what he called management by checkbook.

The issue came to a head over an amount that was relatively modest—$75 million in a project now costing $1.7 billion. The issue was that this was the most recent of a sequence of cost increases. More importantly, Stern saw a need to hold the line, or admit defeat in his get-tough management approach. Thus, he ordered the MSL project manager to omit two instruments, cap oth­ers, and alter certain design elements. Doing so, in his view, would avoid the overrun, while also providing scope for his sample return addition. Stern called the changes “low-impact mission scope reductions.” In discussing his decision September 19, he stated, “I’ve spent all the reserves for the Mars Exploration Program for next year. The next check I write results in cancelling a mission or mission extension.” He warned that he had even considered terminating MSL.78

The Planetary Society, led by Huntress, decried the reductions in capability in MSL. The Society sent letters to U. S. lawmakers urging them to block imple­mentation of the cutbacks until Congress could “evaluate them in the context of the overall NASA budget.” It charged, “The loss to science on MSL seems out of proportion. The goal of MSL is to conduct science, and to throw out so much of the mission science objectives for less than 4% of the mission cost, and for assurance costs that have not yet been realized, seems penny-wise and pound foolish.”79

The Stern decision caused particular dismay for those contractors directly affected. They sought to find ways to deal with the situation. Stern struck a hard bargain. In November, he announced the outcome of negotiations. The two primary devices to be deleted would be restored, he said. These were the Mars Descent Imager and the Laser-Induced Remote Sensing for Chemistry and Micro-Imaging Instrument.

Stern explained in a letter to the Mars science community that he agreed to restore the descent imager because its maker, the Malin Space Science Systems Company, “has agreed that there will be no additional costs to NASA.” As for the other laser instrument, he said the principal contractors had found ways to significantly reduce its costs to NASA. Those costs were down to $400,000, a figure that caused Stern to declare “victory” in his negotiations. “The outcome,” he said, “is even better than we had imagined possible in September.”80

Decision making for the Mars program under Stern increasingly revolved

about MSL. It was emerging as a flagship not only for the Mars program but for NASA generally. As its costs rose and debates swirled over what kind of equipment it should carry, the question of where it should land on Mars also simmered in the background.

NASA had a steering committee for the MSL site selection. This commit­tee in late October brought together a large assembly of leading Mars scien­tists to narrow the number of places MSL might land. The group met for two days in a Pasadena hotel. The group represented various disciplines, including astrobiology.

There were 51 possible sites discussed. As in the past, safety and scientific potential were critical values to balance. Each site was discussed at length, and NASA said additional sites could be nominated. The meeting became “boister­ous” as strong-willed individuals advocated their choices. Majority votes were taken. When the meeting concluded, the list stood at six. “A lot of people sub­verted their interests [in a particular site] to the science. This degree of com­munity participation is one reason the Mars program has been so successful,” stated David Des Marais, a geochemist at NASA-Ames.81

NASA said that with the help of the steering committee and other scientists, it would decide on a single site in nine months. It was still uncertain what would come after MSL, but preparations for this project moved ahead.

As 2008 began, Congress finally passed an omnibus budget bill to keep the government running. Its most important impact on NASA was that while con­tinuing to keep NASA spending relatively flat, the Democratic majority made modest changes in the science budget reflecting a desire to raise the priority of Earth science.82 For years, this NASA program had been constrained by the Bush administration’s relative disinterest in the climate change issue. The Democrats increased spending on the field. But without major enhancements of NASA funding overall, the stress on Mars spending worsened.

The Mars program suffered another significant blow in early 2008 when NASA had to postpone its next Scout mission, an orbital project to study Mars’s atmosphere, from 2011 to 2013. This decision, due to a conflict of interest dis­covered in the proposal competition, marked the first time in a decade that NASA would miss a Mars launch window.83

Fisk, as chair of the NAS SSB, declared that the way NASA was going gener­ally, and in science particularly, was not “sustainable.” As 2008 was an election year, he, Hubbard, Huntress, and many others outside the agency discussed

ways they could get a message to the next president that NASA was in trouble, as well as suggesting what might be done as remedy.84

In early February, Bush released his FY 2009 budget. Once again, Science magazine reported, the president put NASA “between a rock and a hard place.”85 With virtually everything squeezed within NASA’s $17.3 billion budget, the sci­ence program was held to a 1% increase, or $4.6 billion. Griffin knew that the budget was “painful” to scientists, but he had his gargantuan problems with the human spaceflight program and Bush’s failure to support it. “You’re only going to get so much,” he told the community. “Suck it up and live with it.”86