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Mercury,
July/August 1995 Table of Contents
(c)
1995 Astronomical Society of the Pacific
Even
as observatories go, the Kuiper Airborne Observatory is ornery.
Getting instruments to work aboard the worlds only flying observatory,
with all its vibrations and magnetic fields, is no mean feat. Bumpy
flights, scheduling tussles, and engine roar make Aeroflot seem
cushy. Rookies are warned not to put their soda cans on the floor,
lest they freeze solid.
But
the venerable Kuiper, a 91-centimeter (36-inch) telescope
poking out a C-141A military cargo jet, discovered the rings of
Uranus, the atmosphere of Pluto, and the water of Halley. At 12,000
meters (41,000 feet), the NASA aircraft flies high above the clouds
and water vapor that hide much of the universe -- including the
birthplace of stars and the center of the Galaxy -- from us on the
ground.
This
year, the KAO celebrated its 21st anniversary, and probably
its last. It users are scrambling to get their last scraps of data;
soon the crews of pilots, star trackers, computer people, navigators,
mechanics, and technicians will disband. The KAOs last science
flight, its 1,422nd, is scheduled for late September.
Astronomers
had planned for the KAO to fly until 2000, when SOFIA,
a bigger and better version, is due for take-off. But to pay for
SOFIA, astronomers were told last year that they would have
to give up the Kuiper. Mothballing it contributes a fifth
of SOFIA's budget.
Leaving
aside the question of who decided to sacrifice the KAO --
there have been grumbles that the decision was made without involving
the astronomers affected -- the concern is now whether its loss
will be in vain. SOFIA's funding isn't guaranteed. If it
falls victim to the federal budget chaos, the era of airborne astronomy
will be over.
Airborne
astronomy is hardly the first program to need stable, multi-year
funding. Fifty years ago, Vannevar Bush said that science could
best serve society when it had "stability of funds over a period
of years." Yet NASA, NSF, and other agencies still have to
go through congressional reappropriation every single year. The
result is monumental inefficiency. NASA's SETI project, for example,
had spent $50 million on equipment before it was canceled abruptly;
for all those millions, not one star was observed. The country spent
$2 billion on the Superconducting Supercollider and has nothing
to show for it. Man cannot live on half-baked bread alone.
When
Congress haphazardly pulls the plug on half-completed programs,
it makes it impossible to build up expertise, forces agencies to
waste time and money redefending their budgets, and makes the U.S.
government an unreliable partner in international cooperation. When
the European and Japanese space agencies approve a mission, they
approve the mission for its duration. More insidiously, the uncertainty
cheapens the mature deliberations that should go into every commitment
the government makes. When we get used to the idea that decisions
don't really matter, then we won't think through those decisions
carefully. We need to decide whether a project is worthwhile and
whether we can complete it before we start; if not, we
shouldn't even begin.
Many
in Congress appreciate this. Rep. Robert Walker, chair of the House
Science Committee, has pushed for a multi-year authorization for
the space station, but similar measures in the past have not stopped
cuts during the second stage of the budget process, appropriations.
Walker's predecessor, Rep. Robert Roe, called for multi-year appropriations,
but if anything Congress is moving in the other direction: unappropriating
in the spring what it appropriated the previous fall.
This
capriciousness is the unseen issue in the battles over the federal
budget. Science must accept its fair share of the inevitable sacrifices,
but without a rational budgeting system, we will never know whether
the sacrifices are indeed fair.
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