Category Why Mars

The planetary program, and thus the robotic Mars segment, had a reprieve. However, the big question remained: What about NASA as a whole? The future of Mars could not be separated from that of NASA as an agency. That depended most on the space station. Beggs had been trying to persuade Reagan to back a space station virtually since he became NASA’s leader. When the moment of decision arrived, Beggs played his Mars card, among other arguments.

In late 1983, Beggs gave the president many reasons to adopt the station. For example, a space station could open up manufacturing new materials in weightlessness. It could provide scientific research and display leadership vis­a-vis the Soviet Union, which already had a small space station in orbit. The Cold War context was a strong selling point, arguably the key one. But Reagan asked, “Why aren’t you going all the way to Mars?” “That is exactly where we are going, Mr. President,” replied Beggs.70

What Beggs meant was that the space station could serve as a staging base for expeditions to the planets and provide experience for astronauts in long – duration stays. Beggs knew he could not make Mars the major station selling point generally, but it was important as an enticement for Reagan. According to Keyworth, Reagan truly loved the space program.71 Reagan not only agreed but also announced his decision January 25, 1984, in his State of the Union address. Like Nixon with the shuttle decision in 1972, Reagan authorized thereby an engineering development program big enough and long-term enough to keep NASA viable as an independent agency. As before, human spaceflight would set boundaries for what was possible budgetarily for other NASA programs, includ­ing potential robotic Mars missions. But it was a much wider boundary with a station than without it.

However indirectly and amorphously, the decisions for human spaceflight and robotic Mars exploration science were linked. Once again, the robotic Mars exploration program could be sold indirectly as a precursor to human explora­tion, even though the space station would be in low-Earth orbit and not justified publicly in any significant degree with Mars. Keyworth, in straining to explain why he was now backing the space station when he had vehemently opposed it previously, said in early 1984 that the space station was not an end in itself. It was a way to achieve broader ends, and these included Mars exploration. Keyworth said he agreed with those larger goals.72

In the budget announced in February 1984, NASA had a new mission, the space station, and the go-ahead for a robotic return to Mars—a low-cost or- biter called the Mars Observer. The Mars community, especially the geolo­gists, rallied around Mars Observer.73 However, the “program line” NASA and SSEC proposed for a series of relatively modest observer missions had not been approved. Mars Observer was a single project. There was no guarantee there would be a successor.

Mars advocates did not get much of what they wanted, but they got a first step in the revival of robotic Mars exploration. On April 9, 1983, NASA pro­cessed the last Red Planet image from the only component of the Viking system still functioning, one lander. The last “extended mission” of Viking was finally petering out. In May, JPL scientists and engineers gathered around a screen that received Mars data and celebrated the project with a poignant final farewell. “There’s a lot of feeling. It’s like losing a close friend,” said George Gianopulos, Viking’s last project manager.74

Viking was officially over. The Viking 3 rover was abandoned as a proposal for the time being. NASA downsized its ambition as a scientific and political strategy for recovery. But Mars Observer provided hope for a Mars future.

As 1996 got under way, NASA found itself pressed between the Republican Congress and President Clinton, as they fought over the federal budget. This bitter struggle had led to the government’s shutting down in 1995 because of an inability to get a budget bill passed to keep it running. That shutdown was over, and most agencies were now operating on a continuing resolution, under which Congress permitted them to spend at a level commensurate with what they spent the previous year.1

NASA eventually got its 1996 budget—$13.8 billion—in May, but the fiscal uncertainty continued. Clinton promised a balanced budget by the time he left office, and the Office of Management and Budget proposed cuts in NASA’s bud­get in ensuing years. Under the OMB plan, from $13.8 billion in 1997, NASA would plummet to $11.6 billion in 2000. Making matters worse for NASA was its need to cope with Russia’s torpidity in fulfilling its space station obligations, thereby helping to delay that project and adding to its expense. Under the 1993 presidential-congressional agreement, the station was getting $2.1 billion a year. With the overall budget falling, space science and robotic Mars exploration would be further squeezed. Huntress complained that NASA could not sustain its science initiatives under the projected funding.2 Goldin, meanwhile, seemed to want more rather than fewer initiatives as he allied himself closely and vocally

with Gore’s “doing more with less” policy. NASA and its Mars program seemed to need a miracle to extract itself from a dire financial prospect. This miracle came—in the form of a meteorite from Mars. The agency’s response was to reorient the Mars Surveyor Program from a comprehensive, gradual approach leading to Mars Sample Return to one that was targeted to achieving the sample return goal at the earliest instance. The Mars meteorite provided Goldin with what he needed—a way to raise Mars above the space subsystem level to national and even global attention. It was a punctuation point that altered the political equilibrium, at least for the moment. With support from the president, vice president, and Congress, Goldin seized the opportunity to forward his dream.

Formulated at the end of the Clinton administration, the new “follow-the-water” Mars Exploration Program was adopted under President George W. Bush. The question at the conclusion of the Clinton years for Mars advocates was whether the political consensus favoring Mars would hold. Aiding in the transition to a positive decision was the Office of Management and Budget, which provided continuity in policy as administrations changed. Goldin’s successor as NASA Administrator, Sean O’Keefe, came from OMB and supported the new pro­gram. The Space Shuttle Columbia disaster of 2003 led to a decision by Bush to initiate a human spaceflight effort to the Moon and Mars. O’Keefe gave even more priority to the robotic Mars program as a result. As Mars became a higher priority, rival programs suffered in the budget wars, and there was significant conflict within the space policy domain. Opponents of what they regarded as too much Mars at the expense of other space science needs rose in rebellion. Implementation of the existing MEP progressed well, however. Mars advocates used the favorable NASA setting under O’Keefe to transform the flagship mis­sion of the program, the Mars Science Laboratory, into an even bolder project.

Change and Continuity

On January 20, 2001, following the tumultuous aftermath of one of the closest presidential elections in history and a Supreme Court decision favoring him,

George W. Bush became president, with Dick Cheney as his vice president. Bush accepted Dan Goldin’s offer to remain as NASA Administrator until he found his own appointee. Goldin’s own power, so great under Clinton, dimin­ished quickly under Bush.1 Mars, however, would do well in the presidential transition.

Isakowitz pushed Hubbard and Garvin hard to refine their ideas. “The idea was to make our logic unassailable,” Garvin recalled. They spoke about funding and the sequence of missions in the 10-year program. “What would it take to get to Mars Sample Return?” Isakowitz asked. The Mars Smart Lander emerged as especially important in the progression of missions toward MSR. If the Mars Smart Lander was so important, Isakowitz said, “Why not send two?” Hub­bard and Garvin, conscious of costs, did not accept the invitation to go that direction.2

In the long meeting, NASA and OMB officials discussed and debated various issues. It helped that Hubbard and his associates had gotten support for the new program from authoritative scientific advisory groups. The science endorse­ment had to be clear. But so did possible benefits in terms of successful missions for the new Bush administration. As always, MSR was central to the meeting, but it would not take place under even two Bush terms. OMB, responsive to the president, wanted to know what Bush would get for the money.

Congress appropriated one year at a time, but OMB planned in five-year budget intervals. Hubbard was proposing a 10-year program. Budget options for the five-year projection included continuing the existing baseline, which was running approximately $350 million to $400 million a year; an increase over five years adding up to more than a half-billion dollars beyond the baseline; and expenditures even more ample that might accelerate MSR.

After the meeting, there were more interactions between NASA and OMB, with Weiler now deeply involved, as the new officials took power at the White House and OMB. Isakowitz and his political superiors negotiated the Bush bud­get for NASA. Far and away, the most serious issue with which they dealt was a huge overrun afflicting the International Space Station. The NASA science budget was consequently an area where Isakowitz and his civil service associates had more leeway in decision making. In early February, Weiler informed Hub­bard that the signs were positive from OMB for the Mars budget.

On February 28, the Bush White House gave a preview of its budget plans, promising more details in April. The major consequence for NASA in general was the new administration’s decision to tackle the space station overrun through major cuts in that program. However, the White House left space science rela­tively untouched. For Mars, the verdict was to give its advocates everything for which they had realistically hoped. As Hubbard later wrote, “The celebrations in the Mars Program office could be heard to the end of the [NASA building’s] hallway at 300 E St. SW. We had received, over the period from 2002 to 2006, a total increase of $548 million, or more than one hundred [million dollars] a year total.” He declared, “Now it was time for the champagne.”3

In April, the details of the Bush FY 2002 budget were clarified. NASA would go up to $14.5 billion dollars, a modest raise from the Clinton budget. Space science would grow from $2.3 billion to $2.4 billion dollars. The Bush White House fully adopted the new MEP and the more than half-billion-dollar raise developed by NASA and OMB for its first five years. To add money for Mars and other priorities at NASA, the Bush administration cancelled proposed missions to Pluto and the Sun.4 For Mars enthusiasts, the Bush transition was off to an ideal start—albeit at the expense of other space options. Moreover, the Mars advocacy coalition seemed now to include OMB.

In November and December, there were ups and downs for Griffin. The positive event was that Congress passed legislation that gave the agency the funds Bush had requested for FY 2006—$16.5 billion. It also, for the first time, formally endorsed the Vision for Space Exploration (i. e., Constellation) in the NASA Authorization Act of 2005.20 Congress also directed NASA to retain the general balance between human spaceflight and science, a directive not so welcome for Griffin in view of the setbacks he experienced in this period.

Griffin desperately wanted to speed up the development of Orion-Ares I, as the shuttle successor and initial capsule-rocket component of the Constellation Program was called. But what he discovered was that the shuttle cost projec­tions were now running $3 billion to $5 billion higher than estimated in 2004. One reason lay with the lengthy and expensive repairs. Also, instead of launch expenses declining as the shuttle neared its rescheduled 2010 retirement date, they would require virtually what they had cost in earlier years.21

Griffin went to OMB in November and asked for a realistic budget that returned the money taken away from NASA’s projected five-year budget just before he became administrator. He also wanted a substantial raise for NASA. The request was for almost a 9% increase. OMB responded with less than half that figure, with most of that going to Katrina-related facility repairs. Griffin warned that unless he got substantial additional program funds, he would be forced “to hold science’s budget fixed at FY 2006 levels for the next five years.” That would hurt all science programs, including the robotic Mars effort.22 Sci­ence editorialized that NASA was “back to eating seed corn.” It commented that the issue was not just human spaceflight versus science. When push came to shove, Griffin would have to go with lunar research over Mars research because the Moon came first in the Moon-Mars initiative.23

Many of the individuals who were involved in the post-Columbia interagency committee meetings in late 2003 and who assisted O’Keefe in getting the Vision for Space Exploration adopted were no longer in government or had moved to positions in government different from that decision period. Bush and Cheney were still around, but both preoccupied with issues other than space. Neither had given any indication, at least publicly, of wanting to use political capital to help NASA. Nevertheless, Griffin appealed beyond OMB to the president to get the money he believed the agency had to have to do its job.

Bush—like most presidents—did not customarily intervene in agency-OMB disputes, but Griffin was forcing the issue. In December, the day of decision arrived. The key protagonists at the meeting in the Oval Office were OMB di­rector Josh Bolton and Griffin. Bush, Cheney, presidential science advisor John Marburger, a state department representative, and various other high-ranking aides were present.24

It was quickly clear that the big raise Griffin wanted would not fly when the administration was still scrambling to pay for higher priorities, including the Iraq War and Katrina recovery. So how was NASA to pay the huge and unantici­pated shuttle costs? Bolton gave the OMB position, which was to end the shuttle early, arguing that it was a dead-end program. But terminating the shuttle meant also abandoning the space station and breaking a host of international com­mitments, as Griffin pointed out. Bush’s legislative aide told the president that Congress would not let him kill the shuttle even if he had wanted to do so.

The next option discussed was to take money from science—the five-year flatlining strategy Griffin had warned might happen without a significant NASA raise. Griffin felt forced by his desire to protect Constellation and narrow the shuttle succession gap to defend the science-flatline option. Bolton opposed him, and Marburger spoke up for science. In the end, Bush sought a measure of compromise. He gave NASA a modest raise. The shuttle would continue, as would the space station. Science would get a small increase, perhaps an aver­age of 1% a year for five years. Exploration systems would also go up, but they would have to help fund the shuttle costs.

Griffin had said “not one thin dime” would be taken from science to sup­port human spaceflight, specifically the Constellation Program. Now, thanks to the White House funding decision, money would come from both science and human exploration systems to pay for the shuttle shortfall. Griffin’s goal to narrow the four-year shuttle successor gap could now not be achieved.25 For the robotic MEP, these presidential choices created an environment that virtually guaranteed austerity for at least the remainder of Bush’s term.

In February 2006, Bush’s budget request was announced. NASA got addi­tional funds for Katrina repairs. Science at NASA received a 1.5% raise, but the five-year projection showed that mark declining to an average of 1% a year. Mars funding was cut in half. The Science magazine news report on the budget stated, “The prospects for NASA-funded scientists are among the bleakest in the federal government.”26

The reaction from scientists and their congressional supporters was immedi­ate and negative. Huntress, a former director of NASA’s Science Directorate, criticized NASA for “using money intended for science programs to fund con­tinued operation of the shuttle.” Like OMB, he could not agree with that trade­off, since the shuttle was “a program scheduled for termination.” Congressman Sherwood Boehlert said he was “greatly concerned” with the science cutbacks.27

Among the scientists, the planetary researchers were most alarmed. Rita Beebe, a New Mexico State University researcher and member of the NAS SSB, complained that the planetary scientists had been especially hit by the cuts. “The proposed budget transforms an existing, vibrant program into a stagnant holding pattern,” she declared. Beebe suggested that NASA was “reenacting the events of the 1970s,” a time when the planetary program went from an active series of missions to the doldrums. She called the damage “immediate and in­creasingly irreversible.”28 An astrobiology researcher, Rocco Mancinelli, called the budget “a disaster,” coming just when “instruments aimed at understanding the fingerprints of life. . . are being built for the Mars Science Laboratory.”29 The Planetary Society (of which Huntress was the current president) launched a Save Our Science (SOS) campaign among its members.30

Griffin called the scientific response “a hysterical reaction, a reaction out of all proportion to the damage done.”31 There was still a great deal of money for science, he pointed out, and the 1% five-year raise was better than the 0.5% cut borne by federal nondefense discretionary programs generally. Griffin’s words seemed to make many scientists all the angrier, and they reminded him of his “not one thin dime” pledge the year before. Fisk pointed out that 1% was no raise; it translated into “a major retrenchment” given inflation.32

Fisk and his SSB decided that they should take the lead in building a united front among space scientists. Unless they did so, the various disciplines and specialties would fight among themselves and weaken their position. At best, a united community might be able to appeal to Congress to enlarge the science budget. The lawmakers made their decisions regarding the president’s budget proposal over the course of 2006. At minimum, the scientists would try to agree among themselves as to what were top priorities that had to be protected, rather than having those priorities determined by NASA managers or Congress.

Cleave, Griffin’s embattled science chief, bore the brunt of the scientists’ ire. She was pilloried for cancelling a small mission in March—an asteroid project called Dawn—shortly after she had promised a congressional committee that she would be attentive to such missions. These kinds of smaller projects benefit – ted academic scientists and their graduate students. Critics charged that NASA seemed intent on protecting the larger “flagship” missions and the institutions behind them, such as JPL. They were flagships, Griffin insisted, because the scientific community, via the NAS, had helped make them so through NAS decadal surveys of science priorities.33 The “big” versus “little” science balance clearly was an issue, as was Mars versus non-Mars planetary science.

On July 17, NASA’s new Administrator, Charles Bolden, was sworn in. A retired Marine Corps general and former astronaut, the 62-year-old Bolden was very much a Mars advocate. His orientation was human spaceflight, but his Mars interest and internationalist bent augured that there would be support at the top of NASA for what Weiler was trying to do. In his first address to NASA employees, Bolden declared that most NASA people wanted to go to Mars, but “there are a lot of ways to get there. The challenge for us in the next few months is to figure out the single most cost-efficient path to get there.”22

Early in September, the Augustine panel reported to Bolden and the White House on its preliminary findings.23 Its most striking comment was that NASA was on an “unsustainable trajectory.” There was too great a gap between what it was supposed to do and the money it had to do its job. The Augustine panel had been asked to concentrate on human spaceflight. But what it said about sustain­ability in this area had applicability to everything NASA did.

The panel was charged to come up with options for NASA and the presi­dent, and it did so. Two that fit within NASA’s existing budget profile it did not believe worth pursuing, since they kept the United States where it was, in low-Earth orbit. The three it believed were potentially viable for an exploration agency were “Mars First,” “Moon First,” and “Flexible Path.” All would require more money, $3 billion more than NASA currently had, to be added over the next few years, with annual cost-of-living increases each year subsequently. It emphasized that Mars was the “ultimate destination,” but there were too many uncertainties about risks to make it the first place to go for humans. “Moon First” represented the current pathway, which Obama had inherited from Bush. An alternative, “Flexible Path,” meant going to “free space” destinations, such as asteroids, Lagrange points (“special places in space of particular significance for scientific observatories and future space transportation infrastructure”24), and moons of Mars. In this option, the Moon base that was part of the Bush plan would be postponed, but not necessarily abandoned. The Flexible Path option was akin to the strategy many Mars advocates (such as Hubbard and the Planetary Society) proposed. They wanted to go to Mars as soon as possible and feared that the United States would get mired building a base on the Moon.

The Augustine panel did not explicitly recommend a choice between the Moon First and Flexible Path options, stating they were not mutually exclusive and both were relevant to Mars. But in subsequent congressional testimony and interviews, Augustine came across as favoring the Flexible Path. The Augustine panel noted that human and robotic spaceflight could be integrated well under the Flexible Path option. Thus, humans “could rendezvous with a Moon of Mars, then coordinate with or control robots on the Martian surface, taking ad­vantage of the relatively short communications times” this proximity provided. There were “a lot of exciting things one could do [via the Flexible Path] along the way to Mars,” Augustine told a House committee.25

In October, the Augustine panel produced its final report.26 There were no surprises. It provided much greater detail on all aspects of human spaceflight. However, its basic message was consistent with the interim document when it came to future exploration: Mars was the “ultimate destination,” and the most viable and desirable routes “worthy of a great nation” were Moon First and Flexible Path. The problem was that the current spending was far inadequate for either approach, again calling for an additional $3 billion by FY 2014, with cost-of-living raises each year afterward.

The report went to Bolden and the White House science advisor, John Hold – ren. What they would recommend to President Obama remained to be seen. What he would decide remained to be seen. What stood out for many observers was the panel’s emphasis on Mars as a destination for scientific and exploration purposes, as well as the call for using a “first among equals” strategy for NASA to achieve its goals with international partners.

The Augustine panel’s report seemed to strengthen Weiler’s hand as he worked to secure the future of the robotic Mars program. Weiler commented, “I think the trend [in Mars space policy] is more and more collaboration. .. we’re talking about getting extra value… out of a mission.”27 While the United States remained the dominant space power, there were many spacefaring nations ac­tive in the twenty-first century. The United States was talking with ESA about Mars, but there were additional alliance possibilities. Significantly, Russia was collaborating with China on a mission to Phobos, the Mars moon that had long been a goal of the Russians. They had hoped to launch in 2009, but—like the United States with MSL—found they had to delay to 2011.28 As it turned out, the Russian probe never made it out of Earth orbit and crashed in the ocean.29

Mars was the destination of choice for many nations, and most acknowledged the virtues of partnership. The robotic program was seen as important in its own right, as well as a prelude to human spaceflight. With all its problems, NASA looked ahead and charted its course for the Red Planet through the robotic program. On November 5, 2009, Charles Bolden, NASA Administrator, and Jean-Jaques Dordain, director general of the ESA, signed a potentially historic agreement to plan together a joint program. Henceforth, if this agreement were adopted and implemented, the United States and Europe would go to Mars in concert.30

NASA wasted no time in trying to build on the positive momentum the landing created. On August 20, NASA announced another Mars lander as the next in its midsized Discovery series of planetary exploration missions. This $425 million mission was called InSight, standing for Interior Exploration using Seismic In­vestigations, Geodesy, and Heat Transport. Led by JPL, it would be launched in 2016. It was a stationary lander to study the interior of Mars via seismic readings and would build on technology used for NASA’s 2007 Mars Phoenix.29

InSight won against two other non-Mars candidates (a probe to a Saturn moon and one to a comet). Given the excitement surrounding Curiosity and scientific and congressional outcry against the Mars budget cuts, the choice of InSight was not surprising. NASA wanted to send missions to Mars every 26 months. With MAVEN and InSight, NASA was now covered until 2016. The 2018 mission might initiate what Administrator Bolden had called Mars Next Decade. The question was, what would that mission be and how could NASA afford one?

For months, Mars advocates had been pressing Congress and the Obama administration. By September, the Planetary Society had generated 2,000 physi­cal petitions and 17,000 e-mails to Congress, asking for restoration of the cuts to planetary and Mars programs.30 Although some non-Mars scientists complained of “Mars myopia,” there was relative unity in the planetary community, in part because the NRC Decadal Survey had established Mars as the priority, and Squyres had emphasized to scientists the need for a unified front.

The problem for Mars advocates was that Congress and Washington gener­ally were preoccupied with the upcoming presidential election. It was very hard to get anything done in the fall of 2012 if it required congressional action. On Mars, the Curiosity rover began its trip along the surface of the Gale Crater to Mount Sharp. It would take a while to get there. In the meantime, NASA awaited the findings of the Mars Program Planning Group (MPPG) led by Figueroa.

On September 25, Figueroa and Grunsfeld briefed an NRC committee on various options that were being developed thus far by the MPPG. They noted that MPPG was trying to design a program that would be relevant to the mis­sions of space science, human exploration, and technology development. That was the charge Bolden had given Grunsfeld, and Grunsfeld had relayed to Figueroa. Bolden, like other NASA Administrators, saw Mars as a NASA-wide objective.

It was pointed out in the discussion that space science and human spaceflight had historically viewed one another with suspicion. Figueroa likened the rela­tion to that of an elephant and a mouse, with each wary of the other. Although the two programs were on different tracks, Figueroa believed they could come together on MSR. He said MSR remained the top science priority and he could see options for human spaceflight involvement in it. For example, astronauts could collect a sample en route back to Earth from Mars. They could ensure it was safe enough to be brought to the Earth’s surface without fear of planetary contamination. Although Figueroa did not specify where astronauts would col­lect the sample, some observers saw ISS as one possibility.31

Both Figueroa and Grunsfeld emphasized that sample return was the best goal to bring the three different directorates together: human spaceflight, science, and technology development. The technologies developed for MSR would benefit human and robotic endeavors. “Sending a mission to go to Mars and return a sample looks a lot like sending a crew to Mars and returning them safely,” Grunsfeld pointed out.32

The immediate need, Grunsfeld stated, was to make a decision about 2018. If NASA were to launch in 2018, it would have to begin preparations in the next four or five months. The 2018 option was ideal from the standpoint of alignment of Mars and Earth, but was limited by what Grunsfeld called “the $800 million cost bogey.” That meant it would be an orbiter. Figueroa said a rover would cost from $1 billion to $1.5 billion.33

Speaking at an international conference the next day, Bolden noted that to reach the president’s goal of human spaceflight to Mars in the mid-2030s, it would take not only cooperation within NASA but also international coopera­tion. Bolden came from a human spaceflight emphasis. He later commented that scientists saw MSR as “the Holy Grail” of the robotic program. “The ques­tion for many of us is what the timing of accomplishing the Holy Grail is. Do you have to do it before you can send humans? Some would say ‘certainly.’ But when Neil Armstrong landed on the Moon, we did not have a sample.”34

There was obviously debate within NASA about emphases and roles in any cooperative endeavor related to Mars, and the NASA Administrator and Sci­ence Mission director needed to agree. Sooner or later, issues about who paid for what would have to be worked out. In the fall of 2012, as NASA planned for Mars Next Decade, however, there were many more pressing unanswered questions, and they would have to remain unanswered pending further events on Mars and in the country.

One immediate question was answered in November when Obama was reelected president. For NASA, that election seemed a positive development because a victory for his opponent would have meant one more review of the entire NASA program. The agency desperately needed a measure of stability. There was already enough angst for NASA over the looming sequestration of funds, across agencies, in 2013, unless the president and Congress worked out a deal to avert this calamity. For NASA, sequestration would mean $1.7 billion in reductions.

Meanwhile, on Mars, the extreme excitement that accompanied Curiosity’s landing had given way to a muted expectation about what it would discover. The media clung to any word from NASA or the project’s lead scientist, Grotz – inger, which seemed to have anything to do with Martian life. In late November, Grotzinger said that Curiosity would be making history, and the media specu­lated that it had found organic molecules—that is, the building blocks of life sought in the mission and which Viking had not found years before. But that possibility was quickly dampened by NASA. There was, to be sure, optimism among Mars exploration advocates that the rover would find something signifi­cant for life, sooner or later, but the agency said, in effect, “not yet!”35

NASA began its martian quest with a long-term program called Mariner. It planned a series of increasingly challenging probes. The Apollo Moon decision indirectly helped martian advocates. Apollo raised the level of NASA funding enormously. More money overall gave more money to Mariner. Mars enthusi­asts had resources they needed to get started in a serious way. There was politi­cal consensus around Apollo and Mariner.

Adopting Mariner

Work on NASA’s program to Mars began at the Jet Propulsion Laboratory even before JPL had official blessings from headquarters. In 1959, Pickering told his JPL colleagues to start creating a “planetary machine.”1 JPL then formulated requirements for a spacecraft that could travel enormous distances, survive a very long time, carry sophisticated and vulnerable scientific instruments, and transmit data back to Earth. The Soviets were working on such a spacecraft, but they had not succeeded in launching one as yet. Pickering assigned John Casani, a young engineer who had joined JPL in 1956, to take charge of the initial plan­ning and design effort.

Casani formed a team of JPL specialists to tackle this exceptional challenge. They would aim at Venus and Mars. Pickering organized the planetary team so as to separate it from the lunar group. The lunar team was under much stricter

deadlines. The planetary group had deadlines also, but a decision to develop hardware had yet to be made. Moreover, the planetary unit could learn lessons from its lunar colleagues.

Casani had no illusions about the difficulty. He recalled his feeling at the time: “It would take a colossal effort on the part of an enormous number of people.”2 JPL planned a program, successive flights over a decade or more, with each more technically ambitious than the preceding one. In early i960, JPL briefed Glennan on its plans: “first planetary flybys, then planetary orbiters, then orbiter-landers.” As before, Glennan insisted that the planetary program not get in the way of the lunar activity. Pickering was equally insistent about JPL interests. JPL would give lunar Ranger launches priority, but once this series was completed, JPL wanted “the major program activity of the laboratory” to be planetary flight.3

The discussions and negotiations continued, with Newell playing a mediating role. Glennan wanted to run a cost-conscious, technically sound agency, with clear priorities, and he intended to hold the reins on Mars enthusiasts. Never­theless, on July 15, i960, Glennan officially approved the proposed planetary program, to be called Mariner.4 A month later, NASA Headquarters authorized JPL to move forward with development. The issue was now not whether to go to Mars, but how quickly.

Pace would depend on many factors, especially resources. Resources, how­ever, were related not just to JPL and other NASA interests but to NASA’s priority in national policy generally. That in turn depended on Cold War com­petition with the Soviet Union, which also had its eye on Mars. The Soviet planetary program, like that of lunar exploration, was well ahead of the U. S. program. The leader of the entire Soviet space effort, Sergey Korolev, was a brilliant rocket engineer who dreamed of sending human beings to the Red Planet. The Soviet premier, Nikita Khrushchev, understood how space exploits could advance his nation’s prestige, and he provided ample resources to Korolev. As in the United States, Korolev made the Moon the immediate priority for spaceflight. However, it was Mars that fired his imagination. When he spoke of Mars, his excitement showed, and he could become almost “ecstatic” over the possibility of exploring Mars.5 Robotic probes would precede human ventures. In 1958, he had directed his space organization to start working on robotic flight to Mars. Mars and Earth would come into proximity every two years; he tar­geted i960, the nearest opportunity for the first try with a flyby.6

In October i960, Khrushchev came to New York to address the United Na­tions. Visiting Eisenhower, he gave the president replicas of Soviet pennants Luna 2, the Soviet probe that had struck the Moon earlier, carried. Khrushchev had a replica of another, more advanced spaceship that presumably he would show if the Soviet Mars probe succeeded. It was launched also in October, but it fell back to Earth and crashed in Soviet territory.7 That the Soviets were trying hard was now known unmistakably by the United States. The political impera­tive behind the Mars program gathered force.

Competition was fanned by John Kennedy, elected president in November. During the campaign, he pledged to speed up the U. S. space program so the United States could overtake the Soviet Union. He linked U. S. fortunes in space to a national security issue: the “missile gap.”

In 1974, technological development continued and progress was painstakingly made. One reason for the progress was that NASA was pouring more money into Viking. If NASA could not get funds from OMB/White House and Con­gress, it reprogrammed funds from other accounts. The result was that Viking’s budget escalated and Congress grew restive over what it called overruns. Under congressional pressure, top NASA officials evaluated the project. Viking was up to $930 million in cost. Given other expenses, Viking was well into the billion – dollar class of major projects. NASA had to postpone other new starts to pay for Viking.23

In March, Fletcher appointed Rocco Petrone, director of the Marshall Space

Flight Center, NASA associate administrator (“general manager”), the number three position in the agency. He replaced Newell, who had retired in late 1973. Petrone had a reputation for being a hard-nosed and tough manager. Fletcher appointed Naugle to be Petrone’s deputy. Noel Hinners, a 38-year-old NASA geochemist who had headed lunar programs, took Naugle’s position as associate administrator for space science and applications. Low, the deputy administrator, also wanted to replace Martin as project manager, not because of anything he had done wrong, but because Low felt “a fresh look” could “clean up the prob­lems, and provide new impetus to the project.” Naugle and Cortright argued vehemently against what they believed would be a major disruption in Viking. Low pulled back.24

Petrone announced he would enforce cost discipline in regard to Viking. NASA had little choice but to do so. In August, Congress specifically warned NASA to stop reprogramming funds from other missions to rescue Viking and scheduled hearings on Viking for November to underline its concern.25 Never­theless, Hinners got a call from Cortright. “I need $30 million more for Viking,” he said. Hinners refused. A half hour later, he received a call from Low, who said, “Give him the money, Viking is important. [We] can’t afford to have it fail. It is a priority.” Hinners dipped into his reserves without taking it from other programs.26

With congressional hearings approaching, Petrone and Hinners established budget caps for Viking, and Petrone stated that any deviation from the caps would require his personal approval. Viking managers would have to document attempts to find economies within the project budget before asking headquar­ters for any additional money. Petrone himself had a reserve set aside for emer­gencies, but he emphasized he would keep close control of it where Viking was concerned. He required Hinners to supply him “with weekly status reports on project costs and manpower levels for Martin Marietta, JPL, TRW, and Honey­well throughout the winter of 1974.” Petrone not only followed the numbers but specifically directed Martin Marietta, the prime contractor, to work harder. To save money, Petrone and Hinners killed a backup Viking 3 system that was being built as a contingency in case either of the two Vikings ran into trouble, along with various other organizational adjustments.27

Hence, when congressional hearings by the House subcommittee oversee­ing space science took place in November, Petrone and other NASA officials could claim strong action to control costs. Petrone declared he “drew the line” on Viking costs, and Langley and other managers would have to answer to him

if they wanted to cross that line. A congressional staffer told the media after the hearings that NASA had to be careful about cost escalation. “The space program,” he said, “is sort of a national luxury—like a mink coat for your wife. It’s a nice thing to do if you can afford it.”28

The Mars Observer project kept Mars exploration alive in the mid – and late 1980s, but not in a manner that Mars advocates desired. Within NASA’s Sci­ence Directorate, Mars policy fell to Briggs, the planetary director, as superiors concentrated on other matters. Briggs found little support for going beyond Observer and raising Mars exploration’s status. He “made peace with the Mars program as it was,” not as he wished it to be. “I was not chaffing to get its en­largement. My goal was to implement the SSEC core program, particularly the inner planets and the Mars Observer.”1 It was clear to external advocates that they had to press NASA harder if they were to get the kind of Mars program they wanted.

Advocates like Carl Sagan hoped that the Soviet Union, as a competitor or ally, could help revitalize Mars exploration in the United States. His was an end run around NASA and the space policy subsystem, which he saw as weighted against Mars as a priority. He looked for national and international policy al­lies. But to succeed in this macropolitical strategy, the Soviets would have to be successful technically.

Sagan looked to the White House to resurrect the Mars exploration pro­gram—and NASA generally. He and like-minded proponents did so before and after the Space Shuttle Challenger disaster of 1986. Challenger adversely affected the agency, but it did bring NASA to presidential attention. Would

presidential interest make a difference for Mars? It did not do so in the case of Ronald Reagan. President George H. W. Bush, however, made a human space­flight decision in 1989 to go back to the Moon and on to Mars. The political environment for Mars policy thus wound up better at the beginning of the 1990s than it had been 10 years before. It was a long and torturous haul, but outside and inside advocates succeeded in moving Mars higher on the NASA agenda over the course of a decade.

The politically driven financial constraints came at a time of renewed scientific optimism about the potential for life on Mars. The optimism derived mainly from discoveries on Earth and the distant cosmos. Research since Viking was turning up increasing evidence that hardy microbes and other organisms could thrive on Earth in the most unlikely and hostile places, where it was incredibly hot or cold. Indeed, these beings were accorded the name “extremophiles.”

Mike Carr commented to the media, “We’re in a different world. Our under­standing of biology has advanced so much in the past 20 years. The probability that life could have started on Mars has greatly increased.”3Another stimulus for renewed scientific optimism about Mars lay with discoveries far from Earth and the Red Planet. Scientists in the mid-1990s were beginning to discover evidence of planets around distant stars. These discoveries, which were of Jupiter-sized planets, gave hope that, sooner or later, astronomers would detect Earth-like planets.4

These remarkable discoveries on Earth and in the cosmos not only stim­ulated renewed hope about Mars but also helped spawn planning for a new initiative at NASA called “Origins” which would link planetary research with research in the cosmos around a theme of how the universe and life began. It was a theme that echoed much of Sagan’s writing, and Sagan continued as a close Goldin advisor. Goldin and Huntress strained to find money to nurture the new venture, which they hoped would help reignite public interest in the space program. Michael Meyer, who headed exobiology studies under Huntress, recalled that Goldin “knew taxpayers were not interested in NASA for science’s sake. The public cared about human exploration and the search for life. Goldin also was interested in biology. He thought that was the next frontier. Goldin had Huntress and me in for talks. He spoke with me alone. I would get a call from him. It was a ‘heady’ experience.”5

Senator Barbara Mikulski (D-MD), a staunch NASA supporter, was alarmed about NASA’s fiscal future and pressure to downsize employment, especially as it affected facilities in her state.6 She pressured Clinton and Gore to have a “space summit” to discuss NASA’s perilous future and what could be done about it.

In July 1996, the last Case for Mars conference took place at Boulder—at least under Underground auspices. Most of the original leaders of the Mars Underground had moved on. Chris McKay and Carol Stoker had gone to work for NASA. The current leaders of the Underground believed they had accom­plished their objectives in keeping the dream of Mars exploration alive. Now Robert Zubrin, a firebrand engineer formerly of Martin Marietta, was poised to take a leadership role in outside advocacy, writing and speaking evangeli­cally about Mars.7 In two years, he would form a new organized interest group, the Mars Society. Its orientation was emphatically on the human program (in contrast to the Planetary Society, which emphasized exploration in general). He would also publish a book in 1997 called The Case for Mars, the title being that used by the Mars Underground for its conferences.8

All Mars advocates knew that the human and robotic Mars programs were potentially mutually supportive. But Zubrin held that human spaceflight should drive the robotic program and its priorities. Advocates of robotic efforts, in con­trast, emphasized that science objectives were significant in themselves. In July, Ed Stone, director of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, argued that the robotic program deserved support on its own merits. At this point in history, Stone de­clared, robotic explorers were essential. “At least for the questions we’re smart enough to ask right now, robotic missions will suffice,” he said. “Eventually, we may get to a set of questions where humans on the surface may be crucial,” he declared. But not now, Stone insisted. Zubrin and those who followed him strongly disagreed.9

The dilemma for NASA was that there was not enough money for the desired robotic Mars program, much less human spaceflight to Mars. NASA needed cooperation among its conflicting constituencies in a time of threat. Huntress and Goldin believed that Origins conveyed an all-embracing purpose for space exploration, whether by machines or humans. Origins was not a specific pro­gram, but a theme to which various activities of NASA could contribute and which might be exciting to the public. Now the question was how to market this theme.