For the past few months or so, I've had a few ideas for topics to discuss here at The Nonprophet. They range from musings about space travel (the commercialization of it, the ethics of corporate-sponsored colonies on the moon, Mars, etc.) to current events surrounding modern politics, with others such as the uptick in interest in UAP, as well as my own interest in aviation as well.
I feel there are already many folks who have done deep dives on these topics, and I would be simply adding to the pile of disparate opinions if I simply added my two cents to these topics. However, it does seem prudent that if my mind is fixating on these topics at present, I should at least scribble down what it is I'm pondering, so here I am. Much of what I talk about won't be anything new, but perhaps, at the end of it, I can suggest how we should view these things.
With that said, my thoughts have dwelled considerably on the future of space travel. So, for this particular…. essay, let me hone in on the subject. Or at least attempt to, anyway.
The 2019 film Ad Astra, starring Brad Pitt and Tommy Lee Jones, depicts a world in which space travel is, for better or worse, not at all the way we idealize it now. Certainly the noble pursuit of exploration is present in this world, but we learn quickly that the governments of the world are squabbling over the Moon and its resources, what little of Mars that we glimpse is more of a base for military operations than scientific pursuits, and that capitalism has carved out its place among the stars. It's a stark contrast with other near-future films about space in that it holds a cynical, quietly pessimistic view of what space travel will actually be like. At one point early in the film, Roy McBride (played by Brad Pitt) comments: “All the hopes we ever had for space travel... covered up by drink stands and t-shirt vendors. Just a recreation of what we're running from on Earth. We are world-eaters…”
The film itself is enjoyable in my humble opinion, but it isn't a grand Kubrickian space epic like 2001. On the contrary: space serves as the backdrop to a more personal story. On one level, it's about the troubled relationship between a father and his estranged son, separated by years and (quite literally) millions of miles. On another level, it's about human connection, about the things that bind us to the people we care for, whether we want to be bound to them or not, and that's something I'll come back to in another post.
This isn't a review of the film, but I do mention it because I believe it represents the kind of future that I think we should expect to see as space travel becomes more prolific. It also illustrates a deeper message about the relationships we have with those around us.
I think most people would agree that space travel is likely always going to the domain of world governments and the private corporations that take contracts from them. The names on everyone's lips these days are SpaceX and Blue Origin, both of which operate from several government-owned facilities across the United States. It's not without precedent that exploring the stars will almost assuredly be financed by the taxpayers in some capacity.
Governments subsidizing exploration is nothing new: history is rife with examples of governments hiring people to go out and chart the earth. The pursuit of wealth and fame is arguably the most powerful motivator for any endeavor in which death or bodily harm might result, and I would say that we're standing on the precipice of a new variation of the same old song.
In the interest of full disclosure, I was quite the fan of Elon Musk a few years ago, and even now I will admit that his determination and intelligence are two admirable traits about him. SpaceX has done more in the last several years to advance the cause of space exploration than NASA has since the end of the Space Shuttle program. But, with that said, one doesn't have to look too closely to see that exploration is not what drives the company: profits do. Musk is a businessman, and on the face of it, turning a profit is hardly a sin. But consider this:
SpaceX has, as an estimate, received about $16 billion from government subsidies since 2003, with $2.8 billion in contracts in 2021 alone. One such contract is for Starshield, essentially a military-use derivative of Starlink, offering a higher degree of security as well as other features catering to military assets. These types of contracts might serve the end goal of funding the private innovation side of the company, but common sense says that whoever pulls the purse strings really owns the company. One could argue that this is simply to pay the bills, and I'd agree up to a certain point. But in Q1 2023, Reuters reported that the company only turned out a $55 million profit. It's a paltry sum in comparison to the sizable amount of money they spend every year. Is it possible that SpaceX could become profitable by other means one day and not require the US government to prop it up one day? Maybe. But probably not in our lifetime. Space travel requires exorbitant investment. The only way SpaceX remains afloat is through the generous efforts of subsidies and their usefulness as a platform for the military industrial complex.
There isn't any virtue in doing the bidding of warmongers and lobbyists, and whatever history remembers Musk and SpaceX as, this fact will always be tied to that legacy. But on the other hand, what other way “forward” is there? Surely there's a better way, isn't there?
I suppose a big-picture perspective is needed to answer my questions: what will come of our future in space if it is pioneered solely by the military industrial complex? And is it possible to push the boundaries of spaceflight and space exploration without leaving bloody fingerprints on everything we touch? I wish I could say that I believed in the future Star Trek promises, that humanity would “seek out new life and new civilizations,” and the whole boldly going thing… but I feel the future, if it is to be among the stars, will be more along the lines of the Expanse, or For All Mankind. I feel space travel and exploration will almost always be the pastime of the ultra-wealthy corporate types, or sanctioned by regimes seeking new resources to exploit and control.
But… if there is a note of hope in all of this disappointment, it's that I do believe there will be great things and great people with noble purposes and ambitions that will occupy the margins — the scientists, the philosophers, the curious, the awe-inspired. We must take the bad with the good, as it were. As with all things in life, really. There will be explorers, great leaders, new philosophers and artists that contemplate the cosmos from new places that no one has ever set foot or set eyes on before. And it will come with a price, but not a price that humanity has never once paid before. Things will move as they always do. If we make it to the stars, humanity — in all of its imperfect, flawed, stumbling glory — will have the whole vastness of the sky to work out its salvation.
At any rate, it's a little after 4:30 am. I've typed this all out on my phone during a long stretch of downtime at my workplace. The stars are gorgeous, as they always are, particularly on cold, clear nights like tonight. I do not know what the future holds for humanity out there. But I do have hope. In closing, I'll share one of my favorite passages from the Expanse novel, Babylon's Ashes.
As they rose, she felt the first inklings of the week’s sermon starting to fall into place. It revolved, she thought, around Tolstoy’s idea of an invisible dependence and the choice they’d all made to come to the Abbey, and Nami saying, We’re spending our whole lives together, so we need to be really gentle.
Because that was always true. The Abbey and Eudoxia were small enough it became impossible to ignore it, but even among the teeming billions of Earth, they were spending their lives together. They needed to be gentle. And understanding. And careful. It had been true in the depths of history, and at the height of Earth’s power, and it would still be true now that they were scattering to the more than a thousand new suns.
Maybe, if they could find a way to be gentle, the stars would be better off with them.