Mercury,
Jan/Feb 1996 Table of Contents
(c)
1996 Astronomical Society of the Pacific
Of
all the questions planetary scientists could have asked NASA associate
administrator Wesley Huntress Jr at their conference last October
-- will NASA close its centers? will Congress support upcoming space
missions? -- they asked for something basic, almost pitiable: not
to be forgotten.
Ever
since the Apollo program ended and NASA's budget began its long
slide, scientists have complained that the agency's emphasis on
human spaceflight crushes basic research. But those who spoke up
at Huntress's lecture were expressing a different worry: that NASA
was short-changing planetary science in favor of the astronomy and
astrophysics of objects outside the solar system.
At
first glance, it looks unlikely. NASA, the creator of Voyager
and Viking, of Mariner and Magellan, doesn't
care enough about planets? Yet this concern is only one aspect of
a rift between planetary science and other branches of astronomy
-- one of the fault lines in the profession which budget austerity
will continue to widen, to everybodys detriment, if astronomers
dont try harder to pull together.
"At
one time, we were all just 'astronomers,'" said Steve Maran
at the Goddard Space Flight Center, one of the few researchers who
spans the rift. Planets were once lights in the sky, like the stars.
Now they are worlds, like Earth. The shift in perspective has required
a shift in method. The close-up pictures returned by space probes
demand the techniques that geologists apply to remote-sensing of
Earth. Indeed, planetary science has revolutionized Earth science
by giving us other worlds to compare Earth to. Academic planetary
scientists often work in geology, rather than astronomy, departments.
Few planetary scientists attend the main American Astronomical Society
meeting, and few stellar or galactic astronomers attend the Division
for Planetary Sciences meeting.
As
too often happens in academia, people see canyons between specialties
when objectively there are only ditches. Said Maran: "It's inevitable,
given that people are people, that as the astronomers and planetary
scientists look at each others professions from across the gap...
each side sees the other as working on stuff that is less interesting
than their own field, and supposedly better funded."
According
to planetary scientist Brian Marsden at the Harvard-Smithsonian
Center for Astrophysics, the prejudices have had a tangible impact:
Hiring decisions at various institutions have favored astrophysicists
over planetary scientists, and allocation of Hubble Space Telescope
time has been biased against planetary science. NASA budget figures
show that, over the past two decades, astronomy has received 80
percent more money than planetary science.
"Our
astrophysicist colleagues also feel they do not have enough resources,"
Marsden said. "We have traditionally been an easy target, and they
think we are still. Somehow we have to make it clear to our astrophysicist
colleagues that solar-system problems are every bit as fundamental
and exciting and difficult as those involving galaxies and stars."
The
heliopause is not the only fault line in the profession. Theoretical
astrophysicists feel more comfortable talking to particle physicists
than to stellar spectroscopists. Among infrared and high-energy
astronomers, politicking has skewed scientific priorities, as Columbia
astrophysicist David Helfand discusses in this issue [see "Far
From the Madding Clouds," p. 16].
To
non-astronomers, the feuds must seem silly. They should seem equally
silly to those in the profession. For every area of contention,
there is an area of cooperation: the extrasolar planet searches,
the Voyager-quality planetary images made by Hubble,
the shared problems in stellar and gas-giant structure and in planetary
rings and galactic discs. These, rather than the differences, should
be our focus.
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