West Germany

The trajectory of West Germany’s entry into the space age was marked by her history. The horrors of the Nazi regime, its promotion of advanced technolo­gies like the lethal V-2 missile developed by Wernher Von Braun and his team at Pennemunde, and widespread fears of a resurgence of German nationalism and militarism led the allies to impose severe constraints on the country’s scientific and technological development after the war.37 In the mid-1950s the division of Germany became accepted as a (temporary) fait accompli in the context of Cold War rivalry. The Federal Republic was given its sovereignty and entered NATO. A major effort was also made to integrate West Germany into the embryonic supranational nuclear power organization, Euratom, and into the European Common Market. The State Department actively promoted these initiatives. Its policy was guided by what diplomatic historians call double containment— restraining both Soviet expansion and German nationalism by building a strong, integrated Western Europe under American leadership.38

In October 1954 Chancellor Konrad Adenauer solemnly pledged that the country would never develop nuclear weapons on its soil. With this path to superpower status denied them, an alternative path to international signifi­cance was actively promoted by Franz Josef Strauss. Strauss was the minister of atomic affairs for one year beginning in October 1955, after which he was nominated the federal minister of defense. He was convinced that “the indus­trial competitiveness of a country as well as its international political weight was going to become increasingly dependent upon the national ability to master new technologies.”39 This national agenda was translated into his local political ambitions. As Niklas Reinke puts it, Strauss was a crafty strategist who, “not­withstanding his undoubted devotion to his homeland. . . acted with an eye to his political power base in Bavaria.”40 He adopted “a state-supported industrial policy aiming at creating innovative high technologies [. . . ].”41 When he was minister of atomic energy he actively promoted nuclear energy at Garching near Munich, and lobbied for the interests of German firms that wanted to develop civilian nuclear power. As minister of defense he ensured that the Deutsche Versuchsanstalt fur Luftfahrt (DVL, German Aeronautical Test Establishment) was also established in Bavaria. It was again Strauss who in 1961 enabled Ludwig Bolkow, who had done sophisticated design work for Messerschmitt in the Third Reich, to create a big complex of industrial research laboratories for the aerospace industry next to his military production facilities in the south of Munich.42

Germany’s pool of skilled scientists and engineers was seriously depleted by the emigration—sometimes forced—of thousands to the allied powers after the war. Those who remained gradually built up small communities of space sci­entists and engineers in the early 1950s. Helmut Trischler tells us that these groups served two important functions. First, they helped reinterpret spaceflight in the political and popular imagination as a peaceful activity, dedicated to sci­entific exploration and technological advance. Second, they built a network of space enthusiasts dedicated to rocketry and the space sciences. This network established international linkages, including with the United States, successfully lobbied for the foundation of a university chair, established officially sanctioned research institutes, and built ties with German industry.

Increasing industrial capacity, along with growing scientific interest, notably after the IGY, were not sufficient to galvanize the German government into action. Nor did the launch of Sputnik, which was seen as just another factor in an arms race between the superpowers in which Germany was not a participant.43 By the end of the 1950s “space activities enjoyed a degree of political support from various ministries, but this did not as yet amount to space politics or a space policy.” In addition the minister for economic affairs, Ludwig Erhard, did not approve of Strauss’s views on state-interventionism in the economy, and did not see space activities as being significant drivers of economic development. It took the initiative in June 1960 by two of the founding fathers of CERN (European Organization for Nuclear Research) to build a collaborative European space effort to “arouse the authorities from their research policy torpor.”44 Eighteen months later Chancellor Adenauer put an end to interdepartmental rivalry, and gave the Atomic Affairs Ministry overall responsibility for space science and space transport research and development. This department was transformed into the Federal Ministry of Scientific Research in May 1963.

The scientific community, with industry’s support, made three main criti­cisms of the Federal Republic’s space policy in the 1960s.45 They opposed Erhard’s free-market philosophy, insisting that the federal government should take responsibility for space research and development that was far from the market, and promote it as a core national asset. Second, they insisted that it was imperative to provide sufficient funds to develop a strong national capability and to participate internationally, both with Europe and the United States. Third, they emphasized that working with other space programs was meaningless with­out significant investments in a domestic effort. As one document submitted to the now-chancellor Erhard put it in July 1965, “All experience in science and technology shows that unless national funding is at least two to three times greater than contributions to international programs, much of the money con­tributed to those programmes must be considered as subsidies on which there is no return. In those circumstances, we are simply supporting space research in other countries.”46

This financial aspect of this plea was not heeded. The political imperative of being engaged in the European program, including in the development of a European launcher, skewed space expenditure away from the national.47 As the German authorities struggled to find the right balance between a national program and a European collaborative effort, bilateral programs emerged as a means to lever limited resources to kick-start space activities: Trischler remarks that this was not indicative of a clear political strategy; it was dictated by pragma­tism. The preferred collaborators were the United States, where Germany would necessarily be a junior partner, and France, where the asymmetry between the nations was less marked.48

The first links with NASA were established by the minister for atomic affairs, Siegfried Balke, in February 1961, who visited the United States again in May 1962. Balke’s successor, Federal Research Minister Hans Lenz, crossed the Atlantic with his counselor Max Mayer in June 1963. During these visits German officials became painfully aware of the limits of US support. Rocket technol­ogy would not be shared on a bilateral basis. The amount of funding Germany intended to allocate to space research produced what Mayer called “sympathetic smiles.”49 A visit to von Braun at the Marshall Space Flight Center in Huntsville was also disappointing. Mayer asked if some of the German-born members of von Braun’s team who were “experienced policy and contract planners” could be released for a limited period of time to work with Lenz. They would be on the government’s payroll and would help the minister “put the show on the road.” Von Braun refused.50 It became clear that if West Germany was going to build a bilateral program with NASA it would have to bring something to the table. A small research satellite footed that bill.

In April 1964 a 60- to 80-kilogram scientific satellite labeled Project 625A emerged as the centerpiece of the Federal Republic’s first national satellite proj­ect.51 The concept was presented to NASA as a suitable candidate for a bilateral program six months later. Its mission was to explore the interaction between cosmic rays and the magnetosphere, notably in the region of the inner Van Allen radiation belt and of the Northern Lights, as well as during temporary changes in solar wind during eruptions on the sun. On July 17, 1965, a groundbreaking memorandum of understanding was signed between the Ministry and NASA.

Project 625A meshed with Germany’s wish to build its national scientific and industrial strength. Early in 1965 the Federal Research Ministry had received over 100 experiment proposals from academic institutions, independent research establishments, and industry. Seven of these were selected. As for the satellite itself, the prime contractor was Bolkow, and was responsible for payload integration, testing, and launch support. Many other firms were involved, including AEG, Dornier, and Siemens. These firms improved their technical capability by testing new processes and techniques involving components developed in the United States. As in the French case, with the help of TRW they also gained insight into NASA’s management methods to better cope with an enormous technological challenge for which, as Bolkow put it, they were “scarcely prepared.”52

The arrangement with NASA respected Frutkin’s criteria for international cooperation. It was concluded with a government ministry. There were clean technological interfaces. There was no exchange funds. West Germany’s con­tribution was some 80 million DM. NASA provided for preliminary testing of experiment payloads on sounding rockets. It also provided a Scout rocket for the launch, and initial tracking and data services for the satellite. These were later taken over by a newly created German Space Operations Center at Oberpfaffenhofen whose personnel had been trained by NASA. The only condi­tion imposed by NASA was that the German project should not duplicate work already done in the United States and that all of the new data obtained should be made freely available to the entire scientific community.

The 71-kilogram satellite was launched on November 8, 1969, when it was baptized Azur. The tape recorder failed five weeks after its launch, after which data could only be received in real-time. For reasons that are still not clear, all contact was lost with the satellite late in June 1970, over a year before its expected demise. All the same, as Reinke puts it, “the political hopes vested in the venture were not disappointed: the involvement of many firms in the Azur mission expanded the expertise of German industry and the German sci­ence community in the space sector and prepared them for many tasks.”53 Azur was not only Germany’s own spacecraft. Twenty-five years after “the end of the calamitous Peenemunde project, German science and industry had successfully demonstrated its capacity and its determination to peacefully re-enter space.”54

Another important step toward NASA-West German collaboration was taken a few months after the memorandum of understanding that led to Azur was signed.55 The plan was publicly announced at a state banquet in honor of Chancellor Ludwig Erhard a few days before Christmas 1965. In a brief toast to his guest President Johnson remarked that the time had come for the two coun­tries and other European partners, “to do together what we cannot do so well alone.” He identified a probe to the sun and a probe to Jupiter as appropriate ventures that were both “very demanding” and “quite complex.” Both would contribute “vastly to our mutual knowledge and our mutual skills.” Johnson did not fail to couple this proposal with broader foreign policy considerations, thanking Erhard for “the support which your Government has given to the common cause in Viet Nam, and which you may give in the days ahead.”56 The president’s high-profile offer to collaborate in space was also a public act of grati­tude to a faithful ally.

In February 1966 Arnold Frutkin and Homer Newell (responsible for space science) visited several European capitals to sound out their interest in the president’s proposal, which NASA had suggested to him under the label of the Advanced Cooperation Project.57 The two NASA officials began their trip in West Germany, and also visited Britain, France, Italy, and The Netherlands.58 The project was also presented to ESRO, which was NASA’s preferred partner. The American delegation emphasized that the Jupiter probe—though only illustra­tive of what might be done—was technologically and managerially challenging, and would significantly advance European industry. The solar probe would be used to investigate magnetic fields and the interplanetary environment near the sun. “The reaction,” writes Newell, “was surprising. [. . .] Only West Germany was interested in an expanded program with the United States.”59

Newell has given several reasons for European skepticism. They doubted that either project would advance European technology. With resources for space research limited, they wondered whether it would not be preferable to devote their available funds to developing applications satellites. They also suspected that NASA was less interested in promoting European capabilities than in hav­ing Europe contribute money to large projects that Congress was reluctant to support. Some critics went further. They were suspicious that “America was dan­gling the Jupiter probe in front of Europe to divert attention toward science and away from more practical projects like communications satellites.”60

West Germany’s “interest” was of course sparked by the presidential initiative during Erhard’s visit in December 1965. The German chancellor was far from enthusiastic about the idea, however.61 Erhard’s retained his skepticism about space projects as candidates for federal funding. Indeed just before he left to meet Johnson the Research Ministry was complaining bitterly about the tight – fisted approach of the administration. It had only managed to secure long-term financial support for Azur because a memorandum of understanding had been signed with NASA. By contrast, “funding for the development of a second sci­entific satellite and the conduct of further experiments, already planned under a specific program and agreed in preliminary talks with NASA [presumably the project officially announced at the State Banquet], has so far been refused” by the Finance Ministry.62

This financial prudence also reflected Erhard’s concerns about West Germany’s budget. Among a wide range of issues that were raised during his visit to Washington in December 1965 one of the most pressing concerns was the question of Germany’s offset payments to the United States. West Germany was required to “offset” with military purchases the approximate costs to the American gov­ernment of retaining US forces in its territory. From the US point of view this arrangement both provided a market for US weapon’s systems and improved the balance of payments. From Germany’s point of view, it secured an American com­mitment to hold the front line against Soviet expansion in the Cold War.

That said, the scheme was not popular in the Federal Republic. The flow of dollars abroad was significant For example, Erhard was supposed to place $1.35 billion of weapons orders in the United States by December 31, 1966, and to make a further $1.4 billion of offset payments by June 1967.63 In addi­tion, offset payments were associated in the public’s mind with a series of crashes of the F-104G Starfighter jets—ten in the first half of 1966 alone—giving the impression that the United States was selling unreliable and unnecessary mili­tary equipment to its ally.64 To add to Erhard’s woes the Federal parliament had just imposed a 10 percent budget cut on the chancellor.

The offset issue was raised when Erhard met Johnson in December 1965.65 On that occasion Johnson told him that

the Viet-Nam conflict is beginning to put a strain on our budget which will have to expand to accommodate the necessary expenditures. . . The President said he

expected the FRG to make another payment under the offset agreement this month so as not to upset the quarterly balance of US finances and not to weaken the international confidence in the dollar.

Erhard remarked that he had taken some extreme measures to meet the budget cut imposed on him at home. He assured the president that he wanted to respect his commitments, but suggested that he was looking for greater flexibility in the US approach: “The FRG would be willing to talk about this matter but at pres­ent it had considerable difficulties,” said Erhard.

Erhard returned to Washington for two days in September 1966. The American ambassador in Germany, George McGhee, advised Johnson ahead of the trip that this meeting would be “the most critical one you have yet held with the German leader.” The offset agreements were now “the greatest single source of friction” between Washington and Bonn.66 McGhee insisted that Johnson had to be flexible: Erhard’s political future depended on it. The ambassador (and others) made a number of suggestions for how the burden on Germany could be reduced, including “limited purchases in the field of space and foreign aid,” which would probably not exceed about $20-50 million annually.67

Johnson propelled space collaboration into prominence by accompanying Erhard down to Cape Kennedy during this very brief visit. In an official address in the still incomplete Vehicle Assembly Building the president personally thanked all those who had come to the United States from Germany, including von Braun, for the “great efforts” they had made to the American space pro­gram. He also enumerated the many projects that NASA had engaged in with European partners, and reiterated his desire to “vigorously pursue” international cooperation in space science, and to provide launchers for space efforts of mutual interest.68 On the flight back to Washington NASA administrator James Webb took the opportunity to talk at length with the German chancellor. As he wrote to Secretary of State Dean Rusk, he assured the chancellor

that the President was, in fact, offering him more than friendship and more than dollars. In fact he was offering a partnership in the development of technology that could permit Germany to increase its own capability, gain a better understand­ing of its own needs and opportunities for multilateral and bilateral cooperation, establish a basis for leadership in the direction it felt its leadership could be effec­tive in Western Europe, and could set a pattern of university/industry/government cooperation suited to the needs of Germany, benefiting throughout from our own experience.69

Webb left his guest with the impression that “Erhard had a different attitude when we left the Cape than when we arrived. In fact,” Webb wrote Rusk, “he did say that it was impossible to learn from pictures, television, and documents the true scope and magnitude of what was being done and that he had a much better appreciation of its importance.”70

Did the trip to the Cape also signify the president’s willingness to allow the purchase of civilian space technology to offset the German debt? Reinhard Loosch, who was engaged in these early discussions and who later had an impor­tant administrative role in the Federal Republic’s space program, says that it did. Loosch stressed that the possibility of doing a joint satellite project with the United States not only “gave us at least the feeling that we would then be at the forefront of technology,” but was also a response to the question “what can we do, mutually agreeable, in order to help in offsetting the foreign exchange expenditures of the United States government.” Loosch emphasized that the FRG authorities did not object to the principle of offset. It was the implementa­tion that was straining the alliance:

It was clear for us from the very beginning—I should say from 1955 on, when we finally came back into the international political scene—that we would have to pay for that. This was taken for granted. But then, let’s do something more than just pay, help pay for the costs, but something where we could get something out of it. And in this respect, I think, the [collaboration with NASA] was quite, quite good.71

The memorandum of understanding for the cooperative satellite called Helios was signed in June 1969, more than three years after the first official con­tacts were made with Germany.72 In December 1974 and in January 1976 two German spacecraft weighing about 205 kilograms each, Helios 1 and Helios 2, were launched by Titan rockets from Cape Canaveral into elliptical orbits about the sun. They were designed to fly closer to the sun than any previous spacecraft (approaching to within 45 million kilometers) and to provide novel scientific information about solar processes and solar-terrestrial relationships. The probes were designed, manufactured, and integrated by Messerchmitt-Bolkow-Blohm, who worked closely with the Federal Ministry for Research and Technology and the German Aeronautical and Space Research Test Center.73 Each carried ten experiments, the majority of which were German (though there were also con­tributions from the United States, Australia, and Italy). The spacecraft, which cost Germany about $100 million, were operated and controlled from a national facility. NASA provided the deep-space tracking network to support the mission, and participated in the Joint Working Group responsible for technical imple­mentation.74

Helios was the most ambitious bilateral scientific project that NASA had undertaken to date. The Helios spacecraft not only imposed advanced techni­cal requirements on German industry, particularly for the development of the on-board power system, on-board data-processing system, and thermal controls that had to survive high levels of solar radiation, it also introduced German engi­neers and project managers to the way space projects were implemented in the United States.75 Admittedly quite a bit of the equipment in these early projects was not of German origin. However, the “conscientious imitation” of successful technologies and management methods were fundamental to building an inde­pendent national effort.76