Space Launch and Reentry Environmental Concerns Are Real

Starship New launch vehicles like Starship may launch more frequently, but have a lower environmental impact. (credit: SpaceX) Space launch and reentry environmental concerns are real, but can be mitigated by Michael Puckett Monday, May 18, 2026 A recent wave of reporting has raised concern about the atmospheric effects of rocket launches. A February 2026 article in Nature described research suggesting that metallic vapors from reentry of rocket and spacecraft components could influence atmospheric chemistry and climate if launch rates increase substantially.[1][2] These concerns are grounded in a growing body of atmospheric research examining how rocket emissions behave when injected directly into the stratosphere and mesosphere. The launch industry is undergoing a rapid technological transition that is already eliminating many of the specific emission sources identified in these studies. Unlike surface emissions, rocket exhaust is deposited at altitudes where atmospheric mixing is slower and particle residence times are longer. Modeling studies have found that black carbon emitted by hydrocarbon-fueled rockets can persist in the stratosphere and contribute to localized radiative forcing and ozone chemistry effects.[3][4] Observational and modeling work has also identified aluminum oxide and metallic particles produced both by solid rocket motor exhaust and by the reentry of aluminum-alloy upper stages along with other spacecraft components.[1][4] These findings represent an inquiry into a previously understudied phenomenon. However, much of the public discussion surrounding these studies has extrapolated their results in ways that implicitly assume that current rocket technologies will remain unchanged even as launch cadence increases. That assumption is unlikely to hold. The launch industry is undergoing a rapid technological transition that is already eliminating many of the specific emission sources identified in these studies. While the current environmental concerns associated with rocket launches are real, projections of their long-term impact often misrepresent the true nature of the problem and misses other potential impacts. Understanding the sources of rocket emissions The atmospheric effects identified in recent research arise primarily from three specific sources: solid rocket motor exhaust, heavy hydrocarbon combustion, and the reentry of expendable aluminum-alloy based upper stages. Solid rocket motors produce exhaust containing aluminum oxide particles and chlorine-bearing compounds. These emissions were historically significant in systems such as the Space Shuttle and remain present in some existing launch vehicles. Aluminum oxide particles can persist in the stratosphere and participate in heterogeneous chemical reactions that influence ozone chemistry.[4] Liquid-fueled rockets using heavy hydrocarbon fuels such as RP-1 kerosene produce black carbon during combustion. Because rockets inject soot directly into the upper atmosphere, its radiative impact per unit mass is greater than soot emitted at lower altitudes.[2] Even so, the total quantity remains small in absolute terms. Global rocket activity produces on the order of one thousand metric tons of black carbon annually, compared to millions of tons from terrestrial sources.[3][5] The rapid adoption of motor vehicles eliminated the underlying source of the problem far more effectively than any attempt to manage horse waste at ever greater scale. A third source of atmospheric particulate deposition occurs during reentry. Expendable aluminum-alloy based upper stages partially vaporize during atmospheric reentry, producing aluminum oxide and other metallic particles that are deposited in the upper atmosphere.[1] Recent observational work has directly detected metallic species associated with rocket stage reentry, confirming this mechanism.[1] These emissions are measurable and scientifically significant. However, they are also closely tied to technologies that are already being phased out. Of horse manure and the internal combustion engine Many projections of rocket environmental impact implicitly assume that current propulsion systems, materials, and vehicle architectures will persist indefinitely. This assumption reflects a broader analytical pattern that has repeatedly produced misleading projections in the past. In the late 19th century, urban planners and commentators warned of an impending urban sanitation crisis caused by horse manure. Based on then-current transportation trends, some projections suggested that city streets could eventually be buried under several yards of accumulated feces by the middle of the 20th century. These forecasts were not irrational. They were based on visible growth in horse-drawn transportation and on a straightforward extrapolation of existing conditions. What they failed to anticipate was technological replacement. The rapid adoption of motor vehicles eliminated the underlying source of the problem far more effectively than any attempt to manage horse waste at ever greater scale.[6] A similar transition is now underway in rocketry. Many of the emission sources highlighted in current atmospheric studies—solid rocket motor exhaust, kerosene soot, and particulates from expendable aluminum-alloy based upper stages—are associated with technologies that are already being displaced. The key question is therefore not simply what current rockets emit, but whether the systems producing those emissions will continue to dominate the launch sector in the decades ahead. The declining role of solid rocket motors Solid rocket motors (SRMs) were historically attractive because of their simplicity and storability. However, they produce exhaust containing aluminum oxide particles and chlorine-bearing compounds that can participate in heterogeneous chemical reactions affecting ozone chemistry.[4] These emissions were significant in systems such as the Space Shuttle and remain present in several existing launch vehicles. Because most solid propellant incorporates aluminum powder and oxidizers such as ammonium perchlorate, their combustion products include aluminum oxide particulates and chlorine species that can persist. SRMs are a concern for the upper atmosphere because they inject chlorine-bearing gases and alumina particles directly into the stratosphere. Chlorine species can participate in catalytic ozone-destruction cycles, while alumina particles provide surfaces for heterogeneous reactions that can further disturb ozone chemistry. The strongest observed effects, however, have generally been local and plume-specific rather than global: one often-cited measurement of a Titan solid-rocket plume found more than 40% ozone depletion within the plume itself roughly 13 minutes after launch at about 18 kilometers altitude.[12] By contrast, the larger harms discussed in recent literature are mainly model-based projections of cumulative future launch activity, not observations of large present-day global ozone damage from solid rockets. Solid propulsion will likely not play a major role in the development of new orbital launch systems going forward. No major new launchers incorporating solid rocket boosters or solid first stages are under development by advanced spacefaring nations, including the United States, European nations, Japan, with the possible exception of China, and then as a lateral means of boosting the production of solid propellant for military applications. Existing and recently developed systems that employ solid boosters represent legacy or transitional designs rather than the direction of future launch vehicle development and constitute an economic dead-end. The global use of large solid rocket motors reached its historical peak during the mid-1980s at the height of the Space Shuttle program. From January 24, 1985, through January 12, 1986, Western launch systems burned more than ten thousand metric tons of solid propellant, with the shuttle accounting for the overwhelming majority of that total.[7][8][9] Since then, the industry’s center of gravity has shifted toward liquid-fueled launch systems, and the next major step in that evolution is the rise of reusable methane-fueled boosters and upper stages that avoid the principal emissions associated with both large solids and kerosene-burning expendable architectures. As the global launch fleet evolves toward reusable liquid-fueled propulsion systems, the emissions associated with solid rocket motors will correspondingly decline. The bottom line is SRMs are inherently incompatible with a reusable architecture and for their economic limitations, will be selected against for future development. shuttle First flight of Atlantis, STS-51-J, October 3rd, 1985 (credit: NASA) The transition away from heavy hydrocarbon fuels Led by reusable rocket designs, the launch industry is also transitioning away from heavy hydrocarbon fuels such as RP-1 toward methane. This shift is driven primarily by engineering requirements associated with rapid reuse. As reusbale upper stages enter operational service, one of the primary sources of particulate emissions identified in atmospheric studies will be eliminated. Kerosene combustion produces carbon deposits inside engine components, such as the nozzle wall cooling channels, in a process known as coking. These deposits must be removed between flights, increasing refurbishment time and limiting reuse cadence. Methane produces virtually no carbon deposits, completely eliminating the necessity for de-coking. Laboratory combustion studies show methane has dramatically lower soot formation propensity than heavier hydrocarbons like kerosene because of its simpler molecular structure and reaction pathways.[10][11] As methane-fueled vehicles replace kerosene-based systems, rocket soot emissions will decline. The coming elimination of expendable upper stages and a new concern Expendable aluminum-alloy based upper stages represent another transitional technology. Historically, due to mass fraction considerations, expendable upper stages were necessary to achieve acceptable payload performance. Starting with SpaceX, super-heavy lift vehicles with fully reusable upper stages are now under development. This trend will likely accelerate due to competitive economic forces, as many current designs are already copying first-stage reusability concepts and technologies from their Falcon 9 series. Reusable upper stages eliminate destructive atmospheric reentry. As these systems enter operational service, one of the primary sources of particulate emissions identified in atmospheric studies will be eliminated. The flight rate of current systems such as the SpaceX Falcon 9 is already approaching the practical limits imposed by existing infrastructure. Significant increases in launch capacity will require new vehicle systems designed from the outset for rapid reuse and operational efficiency. These next-generation systems will incorporate propulsion and vehicle architectures that end up reducing emissions as a second-order effect. At sufficiently high flight rates, reentry-driven nitrogen oxide (NOx) production becomes a highly significant impact of spaceflight. NOx in the upper atmosphere is considered harmful because it can cause degradation of the ozone layer. Current literature already suggests that reentry heating may account for the majority of spaceflight-related NOx emissions, with estimates indicating that reentry—not launch—could dominate this category under realistic future scenarios.[17] Quantitative modeling underscores the scale of this effect. In high-cadence scenarios involving thousands of large reusable vehicles, annual NOx production from reentry could reach on the order of hundreds of thousands of metric tons, depending on vehicle mass, trajectory, and emission assumptions. Recent public statements by Elon Musk have outlined a long-term vision involving on the order of 10,000 Starship flights per year to support large-scale space transportation architectures. At that cadence, both launch and reentry would occur at frequencies far beyond historical experience. If such a scenario comes to pass, NOx production from reentry heating—not particulate emissions from legacy propulsion systems—would define the atmospheric impact of spaceflight. Reentry of constellation satellites and orbital infrastructure The environmental concerns associated with rocket launches are real. But they are also transitional. Projections that assume their indefinite continuation risk extrapolating present technologies into a future that will be shaped by their replacement. However, a greater area of concern is the end-of-life management strategies for projected megaconstellations and other orbital assets. The most plausible pathway to large-scale atmospheric impact from space activity is not launch exhaust, but the reentry of high volumes of orbital hardware. The rapid growth of satellite constellations, combined with emerging concepts for orbital data processing infrastructure, introduces a future in which substantial mass is routinely cycled through the upper atmosphere. Recent analyses indicate that anthropogenic space debris reentry is already a measurable component of upper-atmospheric material flux. A 2026 study by the German Aerospace Center estimates that approximately 1.6 kilotons of space-related mass entered the upper atmosphere in 2024, with roughly 887 ± 123 metric tons of material injected after ablation processes.[13] While still below the total natural meteoritic influx, anthropogenic sources are already dominant for certain elements, particularly aluminum, which is a primary constituent of satellite structures. Observational evidence supports this trend. A 2023 study published in Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences found that approximately 10% of stratospheric sulfuric-acid aerosol particles larger than 120 nanometers contain aluminum and other metals associated with spacecraft reentry.[13] This represents a direct detection of anthropogenic material in the stratospheric aerosol system, indicating that reentry products are no longer negligible at current activity levels. The scale of this effect is expected to increase substantially with the continued deployment of large satellite constellations. According to a 2024 technical memorandum by NASA, projected constellation growth could require the launch and disposal of more than 10,000 satellites per year by 2040.[15] Even with relatively small satellite masses, such turnover rates imply a sustained and growing flux of reentry material distributed globally along orbital ground tracks. Modeling work further suggests that this material may have nontrivial atmospheric effects. A 2025 study summarized by NOAA examined a scenario involving 10 gigagrams per year of alumina injection from satellite reentry and found that such levels could produce measurable perturbations in stratospheric temperature structure and circulation, including localized temperature increases of up to approximately 1.5 kelvin and weakening of polar vortex dynamics.[16] While uncertainties remain significant, the results indicate that reentry-derived alumina may become climatically relevant at sufficiently large scales. The history of technological development demonstrates that environmental problems associated with early industrial systems are often resolved through technological replacement rather than permanent constraint. In addition to particulate formation, reentry processes generate nitrogen oxides (NOx) through high-temperature shock chemistry. Current literature indicates that reentry heating may already represent the dominant source of spaceflight-related NOx emissions, though quantitative estimates remain uncertain and highly sensitive to assumptions about vehicle mass, material composition, and reentry frequency.[17] As constellation turnover rates increase, NOx production associated with reentry is expected to rise correspondingly. The potential emergence of orbital data center infrastructure introduces an additional scaling factor. Unlike individual satellites, such systems may involve large, power-intensive platforms with substantial structural mass and more frequent component replacement cycles. If these systems are retired through atmospheric reentry, they would increase both the total mass flux and the diversity of materials entering the upper atmosphere, amplifying the effects already observed in constellation-driven reentry. This class of emissions differs fundamentally from those associated with launch activity. As with other projected impacts, however, the outcome depends on how orbital systems are designed, maintained, and retired. starlcoud Starcloud Orbital Data Center (credit: Starcloud) An area of growing concern Rocket launches do introduce pollutants into the upper atmosphere, and continued monitoring and research are appropriate. However, the scale of these emissions still remains small relative to other human activities, and the technological trajectory of the launch industry is toward systems that reduce environmental impact in the short run. The history of technological development demonstrates that environmental problems associated with early industrial systems are often resolved through technological replacement rather than permanent constraint. Just as motor vehicles eliminated the environmental limitations of horse-based transportation, reusable methane-fueled rockets and reusable upper stages will eliminate many of the emission sources associated with earlier launch technologies. The Inside Climate News article is most persuasive when it argues that upper-atmospheric pollution from space activity is now measurable and underregulated.[2] It is least persuasive when it encourages readers to treat observed plume-scale phenomena and speculative high-growth scenario outputs as evidence of large present-day or durable future global harm. The case has, at a minimum, been made for further research. Potential minimization and mitigation strategies The emergence of reentry-driven nitrogen oxide (NOx) emissions as the dominant atmospheric impact at high flight rates reframes the mitigation problem. Unlike particulate emissions tied to specific legacy propulsion technologies, NOx production arises from fundamental thermodynamic processes associated with high-speed atmospheric entry. As a result, mitigation is a question of managing total mass flow, reentry frequency, and vehicle energy profiles. Not all projected reentry mass is intrinsic to space activity; a significant portion will arise from propellant logistics, including tanker flights. About 78–85% of propellant launch mass is oxygen. If oxygen delivery to LEO alone were decoupled from the launch and propellant tanker architecture, it would allow the number of launches beyond earth orbit to be reduced by, at a minimum, three-quarters. Technologies such as lunar in situ resource utilization (ISRU) and propellant harvesting in very low Earth orbit offer pathways to reduce the amount of material that must be launched from Earth and the requirements for total number of launches that must be subsequently cycled through the atmosphere.[18][19] To address the other remaining area of concern, refurbishment and upgrading in orbit can extend spacecraft life and reduce replacement rates, limiting the frequency with which hardware must be deorbited. On-orbit servicing, refueling, and modular upgrade architectures have been studied extensively and are already being demonstrated in early commercial and government programs.[20] A complementary approach is the deliberate return of selected high-impact material as downmass on the deadhead leg of launches. Rather than allowing aluminum-rich structures and other components to ablate, these materials can be recovered and returned in a controlled manner using partially or fully empty returning reusable spacecraft.[21] By reducing tanker demand, extending hardware life, recycling or servicing assets in orbit, and selectively bringing material back rather than allowing it to burn, the industry can reduce not only the environmental pressures created by a very high launch cadence but also the downstream reentry mass that ultimately drives atmospheric injection. In this sense, the scale of the problem is not fixed, but contingent on architectural choices. References Robin Wing et al., “Measurement of a lithium plume from the uncontrolled re-entry of a Falcon 9 rocket,” Nature, February 19th, 2026. Bob Berwyn, “Commercial space travel poses environmental threat,” Inside Climate News, February 19, 2026. Republished by Ars Technica as “Study shows how rocket launches pollute the atmosphere.” Christopher M. Maloney, Robert W. Portmann, Martin N. Ross, and Karen H. Rosenlof, “The Climate and Ozone Impacts of Black Carbon Emissions From Global Rocket Launches,” Journal of Geophysical Research: Atmospheres, Vol. 127, No. 12 (2022), e2021JD036373. Martin Ross, Darin Toohey, Manfred Peinemann, and Patrick Ross, “Limits on the Space Launch Market Related to Stratospheric Ozone Depletion,” Astropolitics, Vol. 7, No. 1 (2009). Ioannis W. Kokkinakis and Dimitris Drikakis, “Atmospheric Pollution from Rockets,” Physics of Fluids, Vol. 34 (2022). Stephen Davies, “The Great Horse Manure Crisis of 1894,” Foundation for Economic Education, September 1st, 2004. NASA, “Solid Rocket Booster Flight System,” NASA Technical Reports Server. This source gives approximately 1,100,000 pounds of propellant per Shuttle solid rocket booster. “Titan 34D,” vehicle data for the UA1206 solid boosters used on the Titan 34D, including gross and empty masses used to derive propellant load. CNES, “History of launches,” for Ariane launch dates, together with “Ariane 3” vehicle data for the SPB 7.35 strap-on boosters. Holger Burkhardt, Martin Sippel, Armin Herbertz, and Josef Klevanski, “Kerosene vs. Methane: A Propellant Tradeoff for Reusable Liquid Booster Stages,” Journal of Spacecraft and Rockets, Vol. 41, No. 5 (2004), pp. 762–769. Ye Hong, Zhanyi Liu, Simona Silvestri, Maria P. Celano, Oskar J. Haidn, and Zhendong Yu, “An experimental and modelling study of heat loads on a subscale methane rocket motor,” Acta Astronautica, Vol. 164 (2019), pp. 112–120. Scientific Assessment of Ozone Depletion: 1991, Chapter 10, citing Pergament et al. (1977), which reported ozone reductions greater than 40 percent in the exhaust trail of a Titan III solid rocket at about 18 km altitude, observed roughly 13 minutes after launch. German Aerospace Center (DLR), “Anthropogenic mass flux into the upper atmosphere,” Acta Astronautica (2026). Murphy, D. M. et al., “Spacecraft reentry contributes metals to the stratosphere,” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences (2023). S. P. Sharma et al., “Impact of Spaceflight on Earth’s Atmosphere,” NASA Technical Memorandum 20240013276 (2024). National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, “Study shows atmospheric impacts of satellite reentry alumina,” (2025 summary). Laura E. Revell et al., “Near-future rocket launches could slow ozone recovery,” npj Climate and Atmospheric Science (2025). Anand, M. et al., “A brief review of chemical and mineralogical resources on the Moon and likely initial in situ resource utilization (ISRU) applications,” Planetary and Space Science, Vol. 74 (2012), pp. 42–48. L. A. Singh, “Very Low Earth Orbit Propellant Collection Feasibility Assessment.” NASA, “On-Orbit Servicing, Assembly, and Manufacturing 1 (OSAM-1) Mission Overview,” NASA program documentation. Jason Rainbow, “Riding the Orbital Data Center Wave,” SpaceNews, May 6, 2026. Michael Puckett is a Regulatory Compliance Professional. He has, in the past three decades, worked with or in most environmental media types including programs regulating mining, water, air, and solid waste. He wants to see our civilization build a durable spacefaring infrastructure and to do so in an environmentally responsible manner. His views represent those of no one but himself. He can be contacted at mdpuckett@gmail.com. Note: we are now moderating comments. 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The Isaacman Honeymoon

Isaacman The Nancy Grace Roman Space Telescope, NASA’s next astrophysics flagship mission, in a high bay at the Goddard Space Flight Center in April. (credit: NASA/Aubrey Gemignani) The Isaacman honeymoon by Jeff Foust Monday, May 18, 2026 The clearest sign of NASA administrator Jared Isaacman’s relationship with Congress came about halfway through a hearing April 28 by the Senate Appropriation Committee’s commerce, justice, and science (CJS) subcommittee when Sen. Chris Van Hollen (D-MD), ranking member of the subcommittee, took the microphone for a second round of questions about the agency’s fiscal year 2027 budget proposal. “Mr. Administrator, this would be a very different hearing if I believed the budget request from the administration your best judgement,” he told Isaacman. “To me, this is just a carbon copy of what OMB submitted last year, and I really think it’s a disgrace to the NASA mission.” “Mr. Administrator, this would be a very different hearing if I believed the budget request from the administration your best judgement,” Van Hollen told Isaacman. That budget proposal, released early this month, proposed a cut of 23% to the agency, about the same as what the administration proposed in 2026. The cut to NASA’s science programs, 47%, was identical to last year’s request. The proposal generated plenty of criticism from both members of Congress and advocacy groups. Yet, most of the criticism was focused not on Isaacman, the leader of the agency, but on the White House and its Office of Management and Budget. “The 2027 request for NASA, I think, was largely locked down before you, Mr. Administrator, assumed your position,” said Rep. Zoe Lofgren (D-CA), ranking member of the House Science Committee, during an April 22 hearing by that committee on the budget. “But it should come as no surprise that we have concerns here at the science committee.” That assessment is likely accurate. While the budget was released in early April (see “Artemis eclipses,” The Space Review, April 6, 2026), development of the budget started last year. By the time Isaacman was sworn in as administrator five months ago, many of the details about the budget were likely already set, with little room for changes. Notably, many of the new initiatives outlined in at the Ignition event in late March, such as a lunar base or the SR-1 Freedom nuclear propulsion demo (see “Igniting a new vision for NASA,” The Space Review, March 30, 2026), were not included in the budget proposal. There were, though, plenty of questions at that science committee hearing, as well as hearings by both the House and Senate CJS appropriations subcommittees days later. There was criticism of the proposed science cuts, as well as the closure of NASA’s Office of STEM Engagement. Isaacman, as the representative of the administration, dutifully defended the proposal. But rarely did members criticize Isaacman personally, and many praised his leadership of the agency and the recent Artemis 2 mission even as they questioned the cuts in the proposal. An example was an exchange with Rep. Suhas Subramanyam (D-VA). “You have a lot of support in Congress,” he told Isaacman after mentioning the Artemis 2 mission and his own childhood in Clear Lake, Texas, near the Johnson Space Center. He then, though, raised concerns about the cuts to NASA science. Isaacman argued that science missions can take advantage of commercial capabilities to reduce costs, giving as one example future commercial successors to Landsat. “Do you think we can cut 50% across the board and still yield the same results or better?” asked Subramanyam. “We can do far more with the resources available, even with a reduction in the budget,” Isaacman said. Subramanyam ended the exchange unconvinced. “We’re going to have to agree to disagree.” Isaacman has enjoyed a honeymoon on Capitol Hill despite the massive budget cuts proposed for NASA. Part of that is likely the result of the Artemis 2 mission: throughout the hearings, members praised NASA for the successful crewed flight around the Moon, even as they then launched into questions criticizing the proposed budget cuts. When the four-person crew visited Congress last week, members of both parties lined up for photo ops with the astronauts. There is also support for some of the changes Isaacman is trying to implement at NASA, such as the revisions to Artemis outlined at the Ignition event and the efforts to accelerate the pace of Artemis missions. Members expressed concerns about a space race with China at the hearings, along with fears that China might land astronauts on the Moon before NASA astronauts return. “Our chore in this environment is oversight and budgetary, but we’re also your big cheerleader and we want you to succeed,” said Rogers. “I will tell you, up until a few months ago, the odds were in their favor,” Isaacman said of a Chinese crewed landing before a NASA return during a House CJS appropriations hearing April 27. “We have a far more achievable plan now.” “Our chore in this environment is oversight and budgetary, but we’re also your big cheerleader and we want you to succeed,” responded the committee’s chairman, Rep. Hal Rogers (R-KY), not long after he and another octogenarian member of the committee, Rep. John Carter (R-TX), reminisced about Sputnik. Isaacman Jared Isaacman with the Artemis 2 crew on Capitol Hill last week. (credit: NASA/Joel Kowsky) Honeymoons, though, do not last forever. There are signs of perhaps not dissatisfaction but of concern about some of the plans Isaacman has announced in recent months and their implementation. Key among them is NASA’s potential changes to its Commercial LEO Destinations (CLD) program the agency announced at Ignition, with NASA considering abandoning its current approach to backing companies working on stations to developing a “core module” to be added to the ISS that commercial modules could attach to. Companies and some members of Congress have opposed those plans, which for now remain just proposals (see “Commercial space station developers make their business case to NASA,” The Space Review, April 20, 2026.) Others in industry have noted there have been few details about some of the plans rolled out by Isaacman and NASA since the beginning of the year. In some cases that is because NASA has been soliciting input from companies about those plans, but in other cases the lack of details—such as any roles for industry in SR-1 Freedom, the nuclear propulsion demonstration—has been frustrating. Another case involved Artemis 3. Isaacman announced in February the agency was converting the mission to a low Earth orbit test of lunar landers by Blue Origin and/or SpaceX. Since then, though, the agency has provided few specifics about the mission. Only in the last week did NASA reveal it will not use an upper stage for the SLS on the flight, saving the final Interim Cryogenic Propulsion Stage for Artemis 4 in 2028. Other details, though, remain unclear. NASA has yet to name a crew for the mission, although Isaacman has said in recent weeks the astronauts will be revealed soon. NASA also has only said the mission will last longer than Artemis 2, which spent a little more than nine days into space. In a statement last week, NASA said it is still determining if astronauts will enter the lunar landers their Orion spacecraft with dock with on Artemis 3. There are also signs that the mission is slipping. NASA said when it announced the revised plans for Artemis 3 that it would fly in about a year, and other agency officials said weeks later they were working to a launch between March and June 2027. But at the House appropriations hearing, Isaacman appeared to offer a later date. “I’ve received responses from both vendors, both SpaceX and Blue Origin, to meet our needs for a late 2027 rendezvous, docking, and test the interoperability out of both landers in advance of a landing attempt in 2028,” he said at the hearing. Isaacman said “I would not be surprised if you see some early wet dress testing at [Launch Complex] 39B before the end of this year.” Isaacman on social media pushed back about the reports that followed that suggested a delay. “We never officially moved the timing of Artemis III to ‘late’ 2027. A reporter wrote that after misinterpreting my quick response to a question during a budget hearing,” he said. (Several reporters wrote about a late 2027 mission, based on the quote above. He may have misspoke, but he was not misquoted.) In the same post, he said that “I would not be surprised if you see some early wet dress testing at [Launch Complex] 39B before the end of this year.” Yet, the critical path for Artemis 3 is not SLS, Orion, and ground systems, but instead the status of Blue Moon Mark 2 and Starship, and neither NASA nor the companies have provided significant updates on their development or acceleration plans to ensure they would be ready for low Earth orbit tests in 2027 and landings in 2028. Those concerns, beyond the criticism of potential changes to the CLD program, have been largely private for now. “Industry is excited about these changes and want Isaacman to succeed,” one industry official said on background. “But those ideas need to be backed up by execution. If NASA stumbles, you’ll start hearing criticism.” The honeymoon, in any case, will likely be over by the time Isaacman returns to Capitol Hill next spring for hearings on the agency’s fiscal year 2028 budget request. That proposal will, presumably, reflect the administrator’s judgement, and thus could be a very different hearing. Jeff Foust (jeff@thespacereview.com) is the editor and publisher of The Space Review, and a senior staff writer with SpaceNews. He also operates the Spacetoday.net web site. Views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone.

Critiquing And Defending The Overview Effect

New Shepard flight Seeing the Earth from space can have a transformative impact. (credit: Blue Origin) Critiquing and defending the Overview Effect by Frank White Monday, May 18, 2026 Let me begin my response to Christopher Stone by thanking him for his article in The Space Review (see “The fallacy of the Overview Effect: perception, power, and strategic reality in space”, The Space Review, May 4, 2026).My ideas are sharpened by responding to those who are critical of them, and he has clearly taken the theory of the Overview Effect seriously. His essay therefore calls for a serious response. Moreover, if there are others who see the Overview Effect as he does, my reply to him will answer them as well. Let me also offer two caveats that will guide my response: In this essay, I cannot take responsibility for what others may have written or said about the Overview Effect, only what I have written or said; I will not be commenting at length on Colin Gray’s theories. I am not familiar with his work, so I will be commenting on Stone’s article, touching on Gray’s theories only as they are cited. Overall, Stone has attacked several strawmen, and the “straw man casualty rate” is high, but this has little or no relevance to Overview Effect theory. At the same time, Stone highlights areas in which we agree, so we ought to begin with those, and then move on to areas of disagreement before offering a brief summary. Areas of agreement Mr. Stone and I agree on a couple of points: (1) The Overview Effect is a real psychological phenomenon, reported by many astronauts as a result of viewing the Earth from space and in space. He appears to agree that the Overview Effect is real, as reported by the many astronauts in interviews with me, and in other contexts. So, we agree that the phenomenon is real, but the issue that divides us appears immediately, which is the implications of the experience. He writes, for example: “Since the dawn of human spaceflight, some astronauts have described a profound cognitive shift upon viewing Earth from orbit—an experience termed the ‘Overview Effect’ (White, 1987). This phenomenon is frequently associated with desires for global unity, environmental awareness, and the perceived insignificance of political boundaries. From this vantage point, the Earth appears to be a single, borderless system…” [1] We are on the same page with that part of his statement, but he goes on to say: “…seemingly reinforcing the notion that divisions among peoples and nations are artificial constructs of limited importance.”[2] So, we agree that the phenomenon is real, but the issue that divides us appears immediately, which is the implications of the experience. However, that divide is not as wide as it might seem. More on that later. (2) We also agree that the experience of the Overview Effect will not automatically result in a change in how we perceive borders and boundaries. He compares the example of how airplane flights seemed to hold out the promise of a new paradigm of perception, but aircraft technology has been used as much for warfare as for commercial purposes. It also does not seem to have shifted people’s attitudes toward borders and boundaries. For example, he writes: The optimism surrounding the Overview Effect is not without precedent. In the early 20th century, the advent of aviation inspired similar claims that technological advancement would render war obsolete and foster global unity. The ability to transcend geographic barriers was seen as a means of dissolving political divisions.[3] I can’t verify that “the advent of aviation inspired similar claims,” but I can verify that spaceflight produces a much more powerful experience than air travel, so I am not sure the analogy holds. However, I would agree with Stone that it was clearly not inevitable that “technological advancement would render war obsolete and foster global unity,” and, by extension, it is not inevitable that it will do so in the current context. What is clear, however, is that the Overview Effect results in people seeing the futility of war, and that this experience can therefore be used as a compelling argument for creating a more peaceful planet. Areas of disagreement (or misunderstanding) (1) Mr. Stone focuses most of his argument on the notion that, while borders are invisible from outer space, the astronauts (and I) consider borders to be unimportant because they cannot be seen. On the contrary, I would agree that borders and boundaries are very important to what I call “Surface Thinking.” It’s just that I believe they are too important. Moreover, we should avoid, if possible, killing one another over these mental constructs. As noted previously, Stone implies that I believe the Overview Effect will automatically bring about a change in how people and nation-states on Earth interact. I do not believe that. Rather, I have suggested that an understanding of the Overview Effect could lead to changes in how people and nation-states on Earth behave toward one another. Also, I do not believe I have ever argued that borders are irrelevant because they are invisible, only that once we realize they are not real, we don’t need to take them to be immutable. (2) Mr. Stone contrasts the experiences of the astronauts as “phenomenological,” as opposed to the “objective reality” of strategy. He says, for example: While compelling, such interpretations [by astronauts, presumably] risk conflating subjective perception with objective strategic reality. The absence of visible borders from space does not imply their irrelevance, just as the invisibility of gravity or atmospheric dynamics does not diminish their decisive role in shaping life on Earth. Strategic reality is not determined by what can be seen, but by what exerts power and influence. Borders remain foundational to the international system. They define sovereignty, regulate movement, structure economic systems, and delineate the scope of political authority (Mearsheimer, 2001). Their importance derives not from visibility, but from enforcement and recognition within the international order. [4] Comparing the perception of borders to the reality of gravity is a conflation. Borders shift and change over time, based on human decisions. Gravity is a physical law of the universe. Its influence does change to some extent, depending on whether one is on the Earth, in orbit, or on the Moon. However, the change cannot be enacted by human decisions, whereas borders can be, and are, redrawn by legislators or conquerors. It is objectively true that you cannot see borders or boundaries from off-world, and it has been confirmed again and again by multiple observers. Those same borders and boundaries are only “real” in the minds of human beings. He is right, however, in asserting that borders define “sovereignty, regulate movement, structure economic systems, and delineate the scope of political authority.” This is, of course, true. Nevertheless, it ignores whether that sovereignty is legitimate, the regulation of movement is fair, the economic systems are equitable, and the political authority is democratic or totalitarian. It also ignores the question of how cross-border relations are conducted. This distinction is at the heart of my disagreement with Stone’s understanding of the Overview Effect. It is objectively true that you cannot see borders or boundaries from off-world, and it has been confirmed again and again by multiple observers. Those same borders and boundaries are only “real” in the minds of human beings. Therefore, I would say that “Surface Thinking,” as exemplified by Mr. Stone, is phenomenological, and “Overview Thinking,” as exemplified by the astronauts, is objectively real. Stone goes on to reference Colin Gray with what Gray apparently sees as “enduring realities.”: Gray consistently argued that strategy is anchored in enduring realities of human behavior and political organization, not in transient perceptions or emotional responses. The Overview Effect may alter how individuals feel about the world, but it does not alter the strategic structures that govern it. The leap from perceived unity to political irrelevance of division is therefore not an analytical conclusion, but a normative assertion lacking empirical foundation.[5] The “leap” is indeed a normative assertion! It asserts that the world would work better if we adopted “Overview Thinking” instead of “Surface Thinking,” if we saw the unity of the planet, rather than human-constructed divisions. He goes on to quote Gray in more detail: Here, Gray’s distinction between the nature and character of strategy is decisive. The Overview Effect mistakenly elevates a change in character—a shift in human perception resulting from technological vantage point—into a claim about the nature of strategic reality. Yet the nature of strategy, as Gray argues, is rooted in enduring human conditions: fear, honor, interest, and the pursuit of political objectives. These do not disappear despite one’s subjective views from orbit.[6] Does Stone believe that “fear, honor, interest, and the pursuit of political objectives” are the only enduring human conditions? On the contrary, humans also display courage, altruism, cooperation, and many other behaviors. Moreover, the pursuit of political objectives clearly changes over time. It seems that strategic reality is not such solid ground on which to build a theory. For example, the nation-state is not an immutable means for organizing a political system. City-states and empires dominated in past eras, as did tribal cultures. Germany and Italy became unified relatively recently, and the “United States” only became united after the nascent nation had long existed as separate colonies. The astronauts are not naive. While they see the unity of the planet when it is viewed from a distance, they also know that there is great diversity, even chaos, on the surface. Moreover, while nation-states compete with one another, they can cooperate when it is in their interests. If this were not so, the European Union would never have come into existence. Germany and France were once bitter enemies, and strategic reality apparently caused them to fight two World Wars. However, they are now part of the European Union. They, and the other member states, still have borders, but they are no longer barriers, as they once were. The astronauts are not naive. While they see the unity of the planet when it is viewed from a distance, they also know that there is great diversity, even chaos, on the surface. The goal of Overview Thinking is to honor difference but understand that it exists in a context of unity, or oneness. In fact, I considered the question raised by Stone in a paper that I wrote several years ago. “Space Diplomacy and ‘the Overview Effect’” was published in the Hague Journal of Diplomacy, and it addresses Stone’s concerns directly. In this paper, I asked whether the fact that astronauts do not see borders and boundaries when they view the Earth from a distance means that we should have a “borderless world.” I concluded that it did not mean that. As I put it: “Astronaut awareness” can, of course, be understood as an argument for “open borders,” a situation in which people move freely from one country to another, without hindrance. The borders and boundaries are in our minds, but not within the planet’s ‘mind.’ In this way, the Overview Effect could lead us to a world in which national borders remain intact, but our leaders fully understand that they must transcend this perspective to confront the challenges we face as a civilization. As the Overview Effect experience becomes more widespread, through virtual reality or commercial spaceflight, leaders of the future may well communicate, bargain, and persuade with a very different worldview.[7] For example, imagine a diplomat from the United States and her peer from the People’s Republic of China negotiating a climate change agreement. Perhaps both had experienced the Overview Effect on different suborbital flights. They would still advocate for their individual country’s self-interest, but with a vision of the common good that the agreement might engender. Would it cause their negotiations to be fundamentally different? We don’t know, because this is not an example of a real negotiation, but more of a thought experiment. Ultimately, we are engaged in a global experiment to see if “bringing the Overview Effect down to Earth” will change the behaviors of individuals, nations, and international institutions. If we keep an open mind, the result will be plain to see. Summary I would like to end where I began, i.e., by thanking Mr. Stone for his critique of my work. It is through thoughtful dialogue that new ideas are born, tested, and either adopted or discarded. I believe that the Overview Effect offers humanity a new paradigm and that “Overview Thinking” will improve life on “Spaceship Earth.” For me, it is like the shift from a geocentric to a heliocentric view of the solar system. It took thousands of years for that to happen in the past. Do we have that much time? References C. Stone, “The fallacy of the Overview Effect: perception, power, and strategic reality in space,” The Space Review, 5/4/26 Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. Ibid. F. White, “Space Diplomacy and ‘the Overview Effect,’” The Hague Journal of Diplomacy, Volume 18, Brill, Issue 2-3: Special Issue: “Space Diplomacy: The Final Frontier of Theory and Practice,“ edited by Mai’a K. Davis Cross and Saadia M. Pekkanen, 2023 Frank White is the author of The Overview Effect: Space Exploration and Human Evolution. He is also co-founder and President of the Human Space Program. Frank coined the term “Overview Effect” and his most recent book, Seeing Is Believing: Visions of the Overview Effect, is now available on Amazon. The Overview Effect® is a registered trademark owned by Frank White. Note: we are now moderating comments. There will be a delay in posting comments and no guarantee that all submitted comments will be posted.

Honoring The Secretary Of The Air Force Office Of Special Projects

monument A new memorial was dedicated at the National Museum of the United States Air Force on May 15, honoring the men and women who worked for the secretive Secretary of the Air Force Office of Special Projects (SAFSP) in California. (credit: Pat Pressel) Deep Black on the West Coast: honoring the Secretary of the Air Force Office of Special Projects and the Star Catchers by Dwayne A. Day Monday, May 18, 2026 On Friday, May 15, a ceremony was held on the grounds of the National Museum of the United States Air Force in Dayton, Ohio to dedicate a monument to the people who worked for a secretive organization on the West Coast. The Secretary of the Air Force Office of Special Projects, or SAFSP, was located not far from the Los Angeles International Airport. It still exists, by a different name, but for decades during the Cold War it was so secret that there were few public references to it. People who worked there often referred to it only as “Special Projects,” if they mentioned it at all. monument (credit: Pat Pressel) SAFSP was a key component of the National Reconnaissance Office (NRO), which itself was highly classified and not formally declassified until 1992. The NRO had four main components, known as Programs A, B, C, and D, each responsible for developing and managing hardware. Program B was the CIA component located at CIA Headquarters. Program C was the Navy component located at the Naval Research Laboratory in Washington. Program D managed the NRO’s aerial reconnaissance projects and shut down when the NRO gave up its aircraft. Program A was the Air Force component, at SAFSP, and managed and developed numerous intelligence satellite programs as well as overseeing launch operations for all NRO missions. The NRO was reorganized in the 1990s and the program offices eliminated in favor of a new structure intended to reduce interagency rivalries. monument (credit: Pat Pressel) SAFSP grew out of the Air Force’s early ballistic missile programs. By the late 1950s, the Air Force’s space programs were becoming increasingly divided into “white”—i.e. acknowledged—and “black”—i.e. covert—operations. When SAFSP was formally stood up, it became responsible for Air Force intelligence space programs, under the direction of the NRO in Washington. These included the GAMBIT photo-reconnaissance satellites as well as many low Earth orbit signals intelligence satellites throughout the 1960s, and the high-altitude JUMPSEAT signals intelligence program of the 1970s. SAFSP also supported CIA payloads such as the CORONA reconnaissance satellite. A major program for SAFSP in the 1960s was the Manned Orbiting Laboratory, which was eventually cancelled in 1969. monument (credit: Pat Pressel) Most of the people who worked for SAFSP were Air Force officers and civilians, although there were a few CIA and Navy personnel detailed to work there as well. Special Projects was a secretive organization, and even though other Air Force space programs such as communications and missile warning satellites were managed nearby, the SAFSP personnel had limited interaction with them. Working at SAFSP posed problems for its personnel, because it created a black hole on their service record—if they went back to the regular Air Force, they could not explain what they did. The NRO compensated for this by taking care of its own, but a job at SAFSP could limit military career opportunities. The mission often had to be its own reward. monument (credit: Pat Pressel) Several hundred people attended Friday’s dedication ceremony, and some events continued over the weekend. The memorial primarily emphasizes the early photo-reconnaissance satellite programs managed by SAFSP. It also mentions the JUMPSEAT program, and there is extra space on the memorial to include other programs when they are declassified. The National Museum of the United States Air Force has long underrepresented and undervalued Air Force space programs, and there is little information inside the museum about satellite intelligence history. monument (credit: Pat Pressel) Part of the memorial also honors the 6594th Test Group. The 6594th operated a fleet of transport aircraft flying from Hawaii from the late 1950s into the 1980s that were used to catch returning spacecraft carrying reconnaissance film while they hung under a parachute over the Pacific Ocean. The Test Group maintained a high readiness rate due to the high priority of their mission. The CORONA, GAMBIT, and HEXAGON spacecraft used film that had to be returned to Earth and processed to reveal its information, and each mission involved tremendous effort and cost. If the recovery went wrong, all the intelligence data would be lost. The Test Group was vital during the Cold War, and never received much recognition due to secrecy requirements. They referred to their operation as “Catch a Falling Star.” monument (credit: Pat Pressel) The dedication of the plaques and memorial is an effort by members of the SAFSP Alumni Association and the 6594th Test Group Alumni to ensure that their legacy is remembered. Now people who worked for that organization can visit the museum and show their family members “I worked on that.” monument (credit: Pat Pressel) Special thanks to Pat Pressel for the photos. Dwayne Day is interested in hearing from people who worked for SAFSP during the Cold War who can share what it was like to work for the secretive organization. He can be reached at zirconic1@cox.net.

Book Review: It's (Just) Rocket Science

book cover Review: It’s (Just) Rocket Science by Jeff Foust Monday, May 18, 2026 It’s (Just) Rocket Science: Exploring Physics Through Spaceflight Missions by Trisha Muro Johns Hopkins University Press, 2026 hardcover, 376 pp., illus. ISBN 978-1-4214-5426-9 US$32.95 In the preface of It’s (Just) Rocket Science, Trisha Muro recalls an incident when she was a teacher and a student asked to drop out of her high school physics class. Why did the student want to drop the class? “I was hoping it would be more like story physics,” she recalls the student saying. Story physics? Muro didn’t ask for an explanation then, but was—and still is—perplexed. Most readers of this publication are familiar with the physics concepts discussed in the book but might appreciate the vignettes about the missions discussed in it. Whatever “story physics” might be, it did plant the seed for what would become this book. Muro, who says she was inspired by spaceflight as a student to study math and physics in school, now uses spaceflight to teach basic physics, while providing insights—stories, if you will—into missions and programs. Each chapter of the book takes up a topic, ranging from angular momentum to the electromagnetic spectrum, coupled with missions and programs. A discussion of momentum and collisions is paired, logically, with NASA’s DART mission that collided with an asteroid’s small moon, altering its orbit. A chapter on how photons have momentum despite not having mass is discussed along with The Planetary Society’s Lightsail program that tested solar sails in orbit. Most readers of this publication are familiar with the physics concepts discussed in the book, including topics such as the rocket equation and the difference between orbital velocity and escape velocity, but might appreciate the vignettes about the missions discussed in it. Who will appreciate it, though, are those people who are interested in space but either don’t understand some of the basic physics or believed it was too difficult or too math-intensive to grasp. (There are equations and some algebra in the book, but Muro limits the most math-heavy discussions to some optional “interludes” between sections of the book.) It’s (Just) Rocket Science might not be the “story physics” that high school student of Muro’s was seeking, but it does tell a good story about physics and spaceflight that’s accessible to readers curious about those topics. Jeff Foust (jeff@thespacereview.com) is the editor and publisher of The Space Review, and a senior staff writer with SpaceNews. He also operates the Spacetoday.net web site. Views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author alone.

After Gateway: The Case For A Middle Power Lunar Consortium

Gateway NASA’s decision to end the lunar Gateway (above) offers an opportunity for international partners to work together on their own lunar exploration program. (credit: NASA) After Gateway: the case for a middle power lunar consortium by Phil McCrory Monday, May 11, 2026 On March 24, NASA administrator Jared Isaacman announced the “pausing” of the lunar Gateway; an effective cancellation for the current project. ESA, JAXA, and CSA—whose combined hardware investments exceeded several billion dollars—learned of the decision alongside the general public. ESA’s Director General said the agency was “consulting closely with its Member States, international partners and European industry to assess the implications.” ESA has set a deadline of June, when the ESA Council holds its next meeting, to determine what that assessment produces. What it should produce is the beginning of something that the evidence of recent agency behavior strongly suggests several of them have privately concluded is necessary: a collectively governed lunar installation built and operated by the capable mid-tier space agencies, on terms that no single external power can unilaterally redirect. Not as a provocation. Not as an anti-American gesture. As the only credible alternative to a governance position—junior partner in someone else’s program—that the Gateway cancellation has just demonstrated, in the most concrete possible way, is not secure. The hardware problem nobody is talking about The Gateway cancellation created what might politely be called a hardware disposition problem. ESA’s I-Hab module, a 36-cubic-meter pressurized habitat with JAXA life support, is currently in production at Thales Alenia Space in Turin, Italy, but now has no confirmed destination. Canadarm3, Canada’s next-generation robotic manipulator system in advanced development by MDA Space, was designed specifically for Gateway. ESA’s Lunar View logistics module, Lunar Link communications system, and JAXA’s life support and battery systems represent a collective investment of up to $3–4 billion in hardware that is now, in various degrees, stranded. What is needed is something that the evidence of recent agency behavior strongly suggests several of them have privately concluded is necessary: a collectively governed lunar installation built and operated by the capable mid-tier space agencies, on terms that no single external power can unilaterally redirect. The June 2026 ESA Council meeting is not primarily a governance discussion. It is a hardware discussion. What do we do with what we built? The most likely answer, absent any alternative proposal, is absorption: ESA’s Gateway hardware gets repurposed into NASA’s unilateral surface base program, on terms set by NASA, under governance ESA does not control. This is the path of least institutional resistance. It is also the path that recreates, one program later, the exact dependency that just produced the Gateway cancellation. There is another path. But it requires someone to say it out loud before June. What the bilateral network already tells us The argument for a middle power lunar consortium does not begin with this article. It is already being assembled, bilaterally, by the agencies themselves—apparently without anyone having yet named what they are doing. JAXA and ISRO are jointly developing the LUPEX lunar south pole rover, with ESA instruments aboard, approved in March 2025. ESA launched a formal internal study of a European-led post-ISS station in February 2026, naming JAXA and CSA as proposed partners. South Korea’s new KASA agency signed a cooperation memorandum of understanding with CSA in April 2026. Australia is in active negotiations on a Cooperative Agreement with ESA. The Moon Village Association’s governance working group has been developing multilateral lunar frameworks for five years. Every bilateral relationship required for a founding coalition already exists. JAXA–ISRO. ESA–JAXA. ESA–CSA. ESA–ISRO. KASA–CSA. ESA–Australia. What does not exist is the multilateral frame: the single table at which these agencies sit together, with a shared installation as the object of discussion rather than a series of bilateral arrangements that individually leave each agency dependent on the US-led program for their crewed lunar future. The agencies are behaving like people who have each privately concluded that a lifeboat is needed. No one has yet said it out loud or started building one together. The hardware credit argument The financial objection to an independent installation—that it requires new money that ESA member states and partner agencies simply do not have—misreads the situation. ESA is not being asked to spend more money. It is being offered a mechanism to redeem the money it has already spent. The proposed founding coalition—ESA, JAXA, ISRO, CSA, KASA, and the Australian Space Agency—collectively covers every dimension of capability a permanent south pole installation requires. The $3–4 billion in stranded Gateway hardware represents a founding contribution credit. Under any serious consortium founding agreement, existing hardware investments would be valued and credited against contribution obligations before Phase 1 funding commitments are made. ESA’s I-Hab is directly applicable as a surface installation habitat core with minimal redesign: the difference between adapting I-Hab and designing a new habitat from scratch is measured in years and hundreds of millions of dollars. The ESA Council’s most important financial decision in June is not whether to spend new money on an alternative program. It is whether to allow existing investments to be absorbed into a program ESA does not govern, or to convert them into founding equity in a program it does. The distinction matters because it changes the domestic political argument in every ESA member state. This is not a request for additional budget. It is a proposal to recover value from an investment that has just been rendered uncertain by a unilateral decision made in Washington. What the consortium would actually look like The proposed founding coalition—ESA, JAXA, ISRO, CSA, KASA, and the Australian Space Agency—collectively covers every dimension of capability a permanent south pole installation requires. ESA brings Ariane 6 launch, the Argonaut lander program, I-Hab hardware, and the Moonlight communications constellation. JAXA brings H3 launch, the most mature non-US life support system in production, and the LUPEX south pole reconnaissance mission. ISRO brings the only successful south pole landing to date, LVM3 launch, and world-leading mission cost efficiency: Chandrayaan-3 delivered south pole surface operations for approximately $75 million. CSA brings Canadarm3 robotic assembly capability. KASA brings a funded south pole lander and a $72 billion ten-year program budget. Australia brings New Norcia-3 deep space ground coverage, remote operations expertise from the mining sector, and the Roo-ver oxygen extraction rover. The governance model should draw on proven precedents: CERN’s equal-vote structure that has survived 70 years of geopolitical turbulence, ITER’s legal personality and in-kind contribution framework that accommodates strategic adversaries in the same program, and the explicit lessons of the ISS hub-and-spoke model that produced the very vulnerability the Gateway cancellation just demonstrated. A binding intergovernmental agreement, not a series of MOUs. Full legal personality. A council where each member has one vote regardless of financial contribution size. An open science mandate that is structural rather than aspirational, built into the data architecture, not vulnerable to ministerial override. The program proceeds in three phases, each complete and scientifically productive in its own right. Phase 1 (2027–2032) establishes orbital infrastructure and affiliates with ESA’s Moonlight navigation constellation. Phase 2 (2032–2038) establishes a permanent robotic surface presence with ISRU demonstration. Phase 3 (2038 onwards) delivers the first crewed occupation. Total cost to first crewed operations: approximately $20–30 billion: one-fifth to one-third of comparable superpower program costs, achieved through existing launch vehicles, adapted Gateway hardware, and ISRO’s demonstrated cost efficiency. The Artemis Accords are not an obstacle The most likely objection from officials in alliance-constrained agencies is that Artemis Accords membership creates an incompatibility with an independently governed program. It does not. The Accords are non-binding bilateral political commitments between the US government and individual signatory states. They commit signatories to norms—peaceful use, transparency, interoperability, data sharing, emergency assistance—not to any specific program or governance structure. The consortium endorses every Accords norm. Its open science mandate is more demanding than the Accords’ data-sharing provision. Its humanitarian access clause extends the Accords’ emergency assistance principle further than any current signatory program. Its interface standard is designed for reference compatibility with the LunaNet framework the Accords endorse. A Japan, Canada, or Australia that is an Artemis Accords signatory and a consortium founding member is in full compliance with its Accords commitments. The tension is political, not legal, and the political tension is managed by a doctrine this paper calls equidistance: cooperative at the operational and technical level with both US-led and China-led programs, independent at the governance level. That is not a new posture for middle powers. It describes how most of the proposed founding members already navigate great-power competition in every other domain. What needs to happen before June The realistic goal for the next several weeks is not the founding of a consortium. It is ensuring that the consortium proposal is a named, credible option in ESA’s internal deliberations before the June Council meeting, not an idea that arrives as commentary on decisions already made. The agencies that have individually concluded that the current trajectory is not sustainable have weeks, not months, to say so collectively and propose an alternative. The ideal June 2026 outcome is specific and modest: ESA’s Council endorses an independent feasibility study into post-Gateway program options, including a multi-agency independently governed installation. That is a different and more achievable threshold than “ESA joins the consortium.” A feasibility study mandate provides political cover for the Track 1.5 engagement—agency-to-agency, below ministerial level—that would need to happen in parallel. It buys the time required to commission the hardware valuation process, draft the governance framework, and bring ISRO and KASA formally into the conversation. The window is real. I-Hab is in production now. The bilateral relationships exist now. The hardware credit opportunity exists now, in the specific form of stranded assets whose disposition is genuinely undecided. The agencies that have individually concluded that the current trajectory is not sustainable have weeks, not months, to say so collectively and propose an alternative. After June, the trajectory will have been set for another program cycle. The middle-power space agencies do not need permission to build this. They need each other. And they need to say so before June. About this analysis This article draws on a longer working paper, “Toward a Middle Power Lunar Consortium”(April 2026), which develops the governance architecture, technical phasing, financial framework, and risk assessment of the proposal in full. The paper is available on request from the author. All factual claims reflect publicly available information as of April 2026. Phil McCrory is a Melbourne-based independent analyst with a background in community development and a long-standing interest in space exploration and governance. He believes the current convergence of geopolitical disruption and growing agency capability has created an opening for a genuinely international future in space that would have seemed implausible until recently. He comes to the subject with an understanding that questions about who governs the Moon, and for whose benefit, are fundamentally questions about democratic accountability.

Exquisitely Unnecessary Very High-Resolution Satellite Reconnaissance

VHR A declassified image of an Iranian launch site taken in 2019 by an American reconnaissance satellite. Even though it is degraded, the image still provides an indication of the kind of detail available from the most powerful reconnaissance satellites. (credit: US government) Exquisitely unnecessary: very high resolution satellite reconnaissance by Dwayne A. Day Monday, May 11, 2026 How good is good enough when it comes to satellite imagery? Today it is common for commercial satellites to produce images with ground resolution of 0.2 to 0.3 meters (with 0.5 to 1 meter being more common), but the US intelligence community has long been rumored to have systems considerably better, reportedly able to discern objects on the ground down to 0.1 meters—a capability often referred to as “exquisite.” Although the details are classified, some historical information has been released indicating that at several periods during the early years of satellite reconnaissance, from approximately 1963 to 1969 and then from 1969 to 1973, the US National Reconnaissance Office (NRO) grappled with the question of the requirement for a “very high resolution” imagery system, and determined that it was not necessary. Despite this, the NRO eventually accomplished such high resolution by upgrading existing systems. The Manned Orbiting Laboratory and very high resolution Although the terminology is still somewhat obscured by classification, the US intelligence community in the 1960s and 1970s appears to have considered “high resolution” to be approximately 8 to 13 inches (0.2 to 0.3 meters), and “very high resolution” (VHR) to be approximately eight inches (0.2 meters) or better. The terms were also defined by the systems being developed to produce that quality imagery. During the 1960s, the Air Force and the NRO were developing the Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL), which was equipped with the powerful KH-10 DORIAN optical system. DORIAN would have been capable of photographing objects on the ground as small as four inches (about 10 centimeters), essentially establishing the definition of VHR as what MOL was designed to achieve. As MOL dragged on in schedule and its costs increased, it came under scrutiny. People within the intelligence community began asking if MOL had real intelligence value. Other than carrying astronauts, MOL’s primary attribute was very high resolution, so intelligence officials asked what could VHR do, what did that mean for national security, and was it worth the immense cost? Other than carrying astronauts, MOL’s primary attribute was very high resolution, so intelligence officials asked what could VHR do, what did that mean for national security, and was it worth the immense cost? Despite the discussion now being almost 60 years old, it provides an excellent insight into Cold War deliberations about the value of very high resolution satellite reconnaissance. Prior to the cancellation of MOL, very high resolution was discussed solely in terms of MOL, which had the primary justification—although not openly admitted—of putting military astronauts in space first, and finding something useful to do second. Thus, VHR was not the primary requirement for MOL. After MOL’s cancellation, very high resolution reconnaissance had to be evaluated against other factors, such as its cost and its value for intelligence collection. What the discussion makes clear is that very high resolution could not be judged merely in relation to other photo-reconnaissance systems like the then high-resolution GAMBIT-3, but had to be considered in relation to other types of intelligence collection including signals intelligence. The opportunity costs of developing it also had to be evaluated. Finally, a major question was whether very high resolution reconnaissance would substantively affect US military policies and forces. How would VHR imagery, as opposed to high-resolution imagery, improve understanding of Soviet weapons development, and would this matter? A VHR satellite required large optics, a large spacecraft, and a larger rocket—all of which added up to higher costs. If building a new VHR satellite meant that the United States did not build another type of satellite, how would this affect intelligence collection? If a new VHR satellite was expensive to build, but did not save money by improving or reducing the need for strategic forces, was it worth it? VHR Declassified cutaway of the Manned Orbiting Laboratory and its DORIAN optical system. MOL was a very high resolution system that was canceled in 1969. (credit: NRO) MOL development change paper and ODDR&E study on VHR In late 1968, the MOL program produced a development change paper, or DCP, intended to justify the continued need for MOL despite its increasing costs. The DCP was supported by a study produced by the Secretary of Defense’s Office of Design, Development, Research and Engineering (ODDR&E) titled “The Need for Very High Resolution Imagery and Its Contribution to DoD Operations and Decisions.” Although neither the DCP nor the VHR study have been released, there is a detailed response to it written in early 1969 by a DoD official. He sought to address what he believed to be the core issues: “the value of very high resolution imagery, the urgency with which we need it, and alternative ways of obtaining such imagery.” Ivan Selin, who at that time was the Deputy Assistant Secretary for Strategic Programs for the Department of Defense wrote: “The MOL DCP concludes that the need for VHR imagery is great enough and urgent enough to spend more than $1.5 billion on MOL in FY69 through FY71.” Selin wrote that the DCP and the ODDR&E study “argue that VHR imagery will be valuable in two general ways. First, such imagery might improve our estimates of the capabilities of Soviet and Chinese forces, permitting us to plan less conservative, and therefore less expensive, forces. Second, VHR imagery might provide enough detail about the military characteristics of Soviet and Chinese weapons to permit better design of our weapons, either to reduce their vulnerabilities or to enhance other aspects of their effectiveness.” The value of VHR The CORONA search satellite had, at best, six-foot (1.8-meter) resolution and was scheduled to be replaced by 1970 or 1971 by the HEXAGON, with resolution of one to three feet (61-91 centimeters). The GAMBIT-3 (also referred to as the KH-8) entered service in 1966 and its resolution was apparently initially around two feet (61 centimeters), improving to twelve-inches (30 centimeters) relatively quickly. The goal for the Manned Orbiting Laboratory and its big DORIAN optical system was around six inches (15 centimeters) resolution on the ground, possibly up to four inches (10 centimeters) if viewing conditions were ideal. The Very High Resolution satellite then being discussed in 1968 was intended to have resolution better or equal to DORIAN. Selin stated that the DCP and ODDR&E study justified very high resolution according to several factors: its value for evaluating anti-ballistic missile (ABM) capabilities, assessing Soviet air defense systems, and determining Soviet capabilities to attack American armored vehicles. He also sought to place it in context with other possible new reconnaissance systems. Selin thought that the analysis of very high resolution satellite photography in support of future strategic force decisions was weak. In short, very high resolution satellite photographs would not have any notable impact on the US warfighting strategy. “VHR imagery is not required to determine such things of immediate importance as numbers of Soviet strategic offensive and defensive weapons and numbers of Soviet, Bloc, and Chinese general purpose forces units, where these are deployed, and the equipment they possess,” Selin wrote. He believed that “VHR imagery can contribute to more refined estimates of some of the performance parameters of weapons, both before and after their deployment. The resulting estimates even with VHR imagery will be of modest confidence because of a large number of factors. We have not found examples of such estimates to which VHR can contribute, which have a strong influence on major resource allocation decisions.” Selin stated that there were some “relatively urgent intelligence needs” that could be provided by real-time systems able to return imagery within hours of taking photographs, but very high resolution would not be able to contribute much. “On balance, I believe that VHR imagery may provide some useful information we cannot now obtain and that it will be a worthwhile if marginal addition to our collection program. However, I do not believe large savings will result from VHR imagery,” nor that it would make major changes in the confidence with which the United States estimates Soviet and Chinese threats. Selin believed there were two realistic courses of action: exploit an existing system such as GAMBIT-3 or HEXAGON to obtain photography of resolution between that of GAMBIT-3 and MOL (meaning between 4 to 13 inches ground resolution), or do advanced development of the optical and other systems for an unmanned VHR satellite to be operational at some time in the future. The cost of MOL By late 1968, both the HEXAGON and MOL programs were behind schedule and over-budget. MOL had cost more and slipped more than HEXAGON. But they were not equivalent systems. MOL was a very high resolution system, whereas HEXAGON was designed to gather medium-resolution imagery for large areas. MOL’s startup costs were estimated to be around $3 billion, with $100 million for each mission. Both were scheduled to become operational by 1970. Much of Selin’s memo was devoted to discussing the current US strategic warfighting strategy, which he referred to as the Assured Destruction strategy. This strategy required the US to be able to accept a nuclear first strike from the Soviet Union and still “kill 20% to 25%” of the Soviet population. Selin thought that the analysis of very high resolution satellite photography in support of future strategic force decisions was weak. In short, very high resolution satellite photographs would not have any notable impact on the US warfighting strategy. The US strategic policy towards the Soviet anti-ballistic missile system was “exhaustion” of the defending ABM system—send more warheads than the ABM system could shoot down. It was a question of numbers, not of capability. Higher resolution photographs of Soviet ABM interceptors were not going to change that policy. VHR A commercial satellite image from 2019 showing damage to an oil refinery. Commercial imagery with resolution of 0.3 to 1 meters is readily available and sufficient for most non-military and many military uses. (credit: DigitalGlobe) Strategic forces decisions and VHR The arguments in favor of VHR were divided into several other categories. Selin believed these arguments were also weak. Soviet ballistic missiles “We need to know the number of independent ballistic missile reentry vehicles that can be delivered, their reliability, delivery accuracy, and yield. Of these, by far the most important are numbers and accuracy,” Selin stated. Very high resolution photos would not change that. The American Sentinel ABM system then being proposed would have very little defense against Soviet attack. “If the Soviets take even simple steps to exhaust it, Soviet penetration capabilities beyond use of chaff are now of little importance.” “VHR imagery can be expected to make little or no additional contribution to determining either numbers or accuracy of Soviet ballistic missiles. It is conceivable that such imagery could help determine the payload (through better measurements) and hence the yield of a missile such as the SS-13, but because our ICBM vulnerability is not very sensitive to yield, the value of every refined yield information is low.” “The primary damage limiting contributions suggested by the report for DORIAN are improving our estimates of Soviet ICBM silo hardness and determining more about Soviet capabilities to penetrate our anti-Soviet ABM (which we have not yet decided to buy).” VHR could improve estimates of Soviet silo lid thickness, but other factors dominate. “Even with complete drawings, exhaustive soil tests, and finally, full scale high explosive tests, we were and are unsure of the true hardness, especially the upper limit, of the [U.S. Air Force’s] Minuteman facilities.” The hardness of Soviet silos “is of interest, but does not drive either our force requirements or the way we might use these forces.” “The study also argued that DORIAN might get VHR pictures of Soviet reentry systems. This seems highly unlikely. Advanced reentry systems of the type we are developing and testing just aren’t exposed to overhead photography; MIRVs, decoys, chaff, etc., are nearly always, as a minimum, under wind shields when the boosters are on the test pads. Even if such photographs were obtained, they would tell us very little about penetration capabilities. If we were to deploy a heavy ABM against the Soviets, we would still need collectors like Sentinel Foam to acquire necessary reentry data. DORIAN would add very little to our knowledge in this case.” Very high resolution would not change the best confidence in best estimates of ABM parameters, and even if it did, that would not change the strategic situation. Selin added that “relatively few lives can be saved by modifying our war plan if it is discovered that a Soviet ABM is in fact totally ineffective.” Soviet area defense “The effectiveness of Soviet air defenses, given known Soviet aircraft, are almost completely determined by the capabilities of Soviet airborne warning and control (AWACs) aircraft, interceptors, and air-to air missiles to find and shoot at low altitude targets.” It was difficult to define very high resolution requirements. This was a result of there being little experience with VHR over denied areas. One of the key questions at the time was whether the Soviet Union’s high-speed MiG-25 Foxbat interceptor would have shoot-down missiles that could attack low-flying American aircraft. The MiG-25 first flew in 1964, and was shown off to the Soviet public in a 1967 airshow. Although VHR satellites might detect missiles under the wings of MiG-25s, they would not provide information on whether the missiles could be fired downward and detect an aircraft from ground clutter, so-called “look-down/shoot-down” capability. Indeed, in 1976, when a Soviet pilot flew his MiG-25 to Japan, American technicians were able to examine the plane’s radar in detail—and question the pilot—and were surprised that it still lacked that capability. As Selin stated, the primary factors for successful Soviet air defense were “an electronic capability, SAM [surface-to-air missile] firepower and SAM reaction time, both electronic and data handling capabilities. None of these are very susceptible to analysis by VHR imagery.” Soviet anti-submarine warfare (ASW) “The kinds of things we might see with VHR imagery such as deck-mounted ASW weapons, sonar domes, and antennas are not the critical elements in a system with capabilities against our SSBNs [ballistic missile submarines]. The fundamental problems of detecting and tracking these submarines are not likely to be solved with equipment subject to VHR imagery.” Similar to his argument about area defense, Selin claimed that very high resolution photos of Soviet anti-submarine warfare systems would not provide the most important information about them. The effectiveness of a sonar, for instance, had to be evaluated in the water by listening to it, not by looking at it from space. In summary, Selin explained that “the report has identified the wrong features of Soviet systems as the important ones.” Tactical forces decisions and VHR Tanks and armored personnel carriers are designed to last five to ten years. They are designed conservatively to include possible threats even at the end of their lifetimes. “If VHR imagery were to reveal lesser threats [to American tanks], we would not reduce the design requirements on the” tank. “It is very unlikely that we would see advances exceeding our conservative postulation since: (1) many of the weapons simply would not be available to overhead photography of any resolution, and (2) because our postulations are very conservative, it is by definition, unlikely that we would discover more serious threats.” “The capabilities of Soviet general purpose forces change slowly because it simply takes a long time to modernize these forces, since such modernization may require literally thousands of new weapons. A large change in the balance of our general purpose forces and the Soviets’ is very unlikely to come about because of Soviet technical innovations. We will gain much information on such changes from COMINT [communications intelligence], direct observation, and other sources in time to respond if a response is needed.” Selin argued that the study “does not follow the arguments through that high priority efforts to get high resolution photography should result in similar efforts to respond to such photography—possibly because we have not in the recent past engaged in any major high priority programs to change the general purpose force weapons in response to surprises discovered by means other than VHR imagery.” Unconvincing arguments In May 1969, highly respected intelligence advisor Edwin “Din” Land wrote President Nixon recommending that he cancel MOL and continue development of a very high resolution camera that exploited DORIAN technology advances. Land also urged that most reconnaissance research and development be concentrated on near-real-time reconnaissance. He urged Nixon to start “highest priority” development of a “simple, long-life imaging satellite, using an array of photosensitive elements to convert the image to electrical signals for immediate transmission,” a system that the CIA was then developing known as ZAMAN (see “Intersections in Real Time: the decision to build the KH-11 KENNEN reconnaissance satellite (part 1)” The Space Review, September 9, 2019, and Part 2.) The MOL program was canceled in June 1969. In September 1969, Major Richard L. Geer wrote a memo to the head of the NRO’s West Coast program office about the VHR issue. He noted that “Several high-powered studies have attempted to establish a case for VHR photography, mostly in support of MOL. A number of these (e.g. the Foster Study/Ad Hoc Evaluation Group) have made innumerable arguments, many of which were fairly impressive. Taken together, they ought to have made an unshakeable rationale for VHR. That they have not made a sufficient case to justify MOL is a matter of record. Whether they have made a sufficient case to justify funding any other VHR development is a matter of doubt.” Geer’s memo mentioned Selin with a hint of disdain, implying that the people working in the NRO were aware of his arguments and didn’t agree with him. Nevertheless, they were not making a sufficient case for very high resolution to overcome those arguments. Major Geer noted that it was hard to get complete community support for VHR funding when that might come at the expense of more pressing requirements such as search and surveillance. Now that the HEXAGON program seemed to be secure, VHR might have a better chance. But any VHR system was going to ultimately compete against other systems for funding. Geer wrote that the second problem was that it was difficult to define very high resolution requirements. This was a result of there being little experience with VHR over denied areas. “Each intelligence target in the overhead reconnaissance inventory has a range of resolution requirements corresponding to what is desired to be known at any given time about that target. These requirements vary for a given target and a given time, but they range down to the equivalent of parade photography,” meaning the big military parades where the Soviets showed off some of their missiles while foreigners, including American intelligence officers, took photos. “Partly as a consequence of this problem, there has never existed a consolidated list of actual targets requiring VHR,” Geer wrote. “There is some limit for any intelligence target beyond which increasing resolution of overhead photography is less rewarding than investment in other collection means.” Geer noted that one problem that occurred with MOL was that the air and space weapons requirements for MOL imagery were much firmer than Army and Navy requirements, because the Air Force was given much more time to develop its requirements than the other two services. Thus, it appeared that the Air Force needed the imagery more than the Army or Navy, but this may have been inaccurate. The other forces needed more time to study the issue. Geer also wrote that some of the statement of requirements for VHR were inflexible, citing the example of requiring VHR for an airfield for experimental aircraft, whereas the VHR was really only required when a new aircraft or missile was present. By being more flexible, this might create more opportunities. An example was using a modified GAMBIT satellite to spot VHR targets and only using the last few orbits to take the photos before jettisoning the first film return vehicle. The high-level perspective From around 1969 to 1971 there was apparently discussion of a VHR system that some referred to as HEXADOR, a combination of the HEXAGON spacecraft and DORIAN optics. However, it is unclear whether this was actively studied, or simply a basic proposal. There was also apparently some study of the technological advances required to achieve very high resolution in general. By 1971 the NRO should have realized that 2.5-centimeter (i.e. 1-inch) ground resolution wasn't possible, because it defied the laws of physics. What is better documented is that, from 1970 thru 1971, the majority of the discussion of new reconnaissance systems within the intelligence community focused not on VHR but on near-real-time. Acquiring imagery faster was a higher priority than acquiring better imagery. The resolution goal for the KH-11 KENNEN, which was approved for development in 1971, was probably around 12–18 inches (30–45 centimeters) ground resolution. In April 1971, Director of the NRO John L. McLucas wrote a memo titled “Future of Drones and Aircraft in Overhead Reconnaissance” where he discussed the limited utility of drones and aircraft such as the U-2, particularly when it came to overflying hostile territory. McLucas explained that the approach the NRO was taking to improve the ability to return imagery faster was to have a satellite in orbit constantly, with the ultimate goal being the deployment of a near-real-time satellite using an electro-optical imaging system that beamed its images to the ground. The new electro-optical imaging system, soon named KENNEN, was also going to cost a lot of money. “In order to acquire such a capability, which is some three or more years away, constraints have caused us to terminate all activities leading to a Very High Resolution system capable of some 1-inch to 5-inch resolution” (2.5–12.7 centimeters), McLucas explained. But by the latter 1960s it was known within the reconnaissance community that there was a physical limit to resolution from a satellite due to atmospheric turbulence, and the lower-end number that McLucas cited as VHR’s goal was impossible to achieve. In 1966, David Fried published a paper in the open literature that determined the atmospheric resolution limits of a satellite in low Earth orbit. Fried calculated that a satellite was limited to a resolution of no better than five to ten centimeters no matter how powerful its optics, and his conclusion was independently confirmed two years later by John C. Evvard. By 1971 the NRO should have realized that 2.5-centimeter (i.e. 1-inch) ground resolution wasn't possible, because it defied the laws of physics. Available technology, or even technology that might become available in the foreseeable future, could not bend the laws of physics. McLucas’ memo indicates that VHR was killed by budget constraints, not physical limits. By 1971, Lew Allen was a brigadier general, and the head of the NRO’s headquarters staff in Washington, and would soon be named head of the Secretary of the Air Force Special Projects office (also known as SAFSP, the NRO’s Program A) in Los Angeles. He would later go on to become a full general, run the National Security Agency, become Air Force Chief of Staff, and after leaving the Air Force in 1982, he became director of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory. He had developed an almost scholarly perspective of satellite reconnaissance and the bureaucracy that managed it. In 1974, Allen wrote an extended commentary about a top-secret draft NRO history and discussed what he referred to as the conflict between requirements for new reconnaissance systems vs. the “technological imperative”—meaning simply pushing the technology as far as it could go regardless of any specific requirement. Allen observed that there were essentially three aspects to satellite reconnaissance. The first was quality, which mainly meant the resolution capability of a system. The second was quantity, which primarily referred to how much area coverage a satellite could provide. The third was timeliness. “There can be developed a logical description of requirements, as it relates to each factor,” Allen wrote, “but in truth (as [reconnaissance pioneer Amrom] Katz would say) the developments have been driven by the ‘technological imperative’ and the requirements here caught up later.” Quality—the desire for higher and higher resolution photographs from space—drove the NRO to develop the GAMBIT system, the Manned Orbiting Laboratory (MOL) and its DORIAN optics system, and then to pursue improvements to GAMBIT. Quantity—the need for area coverage—led to the first reconnaissance satellite, CORONA, in 1959, followed by its replacement the HEXAGON system, which first flew in 1971. Allen viewed HEXAGON as an “ultimate” system. Its success had left the need for quantity “unfruitful for further dreams.” Allen could often state—at least in top secret documents—the uncomfortable truths that others in his field might not acknowledge. In Allen’s view, the unstated primary requirement for MOL was to put military astronauts in space. Taking very high resolution photos was really only a justification for orbiting the astronauts, not a requirement that led to MOL. “As the enormous value of overhead recce became more appreciated, it was always the strategic concept which dominated – technological advancement of Soviet weaponry – SALT – order of battle, etc.,” Allen wrote. General Allen’s views in 1974 did not contradict Selin’s arguments five years earlier. Although General Allen indicated that he believed the technological imperative drove most space reconnaissance systems, that was not completely true. There were stated requirements that drove the development of CORONA, GAMBIT, and HEXAGON. Once each of those systems was in operation, the technological imperative took over as their designers strove to improve them to the maximum extent possible, eventually exceeding their requirements, sometimes substantially. He was, however, correct about the technological imperative regarding very high resolution. There does not appear to have been any clear requirement during the 1960s for VHR. MOL’s requirement was to fly military astronauts and find something useful for them to do, and VHR was subservient to that requirement. If the astronauts were not needed, neither was VHR. KENNEN, HEXADOR, and Advanced GAMBIT-3 This snapshot of arguments for and against very high resolution satellite photography represents only a brief moment of time. It is possible that the arguments changed, or that new types of strategic threats resulted in a change in the arguments for or against very high resolution. An example of the latter was the development by the Soviet Union of mobile ICBMs in the 1970s. Very good photos of mobile ICBMs were not important, but imagery that showed where they were right now was important. Tracking the locations of mobile ICBMs was much more dependent upon timely imagery, including possibly radar imagery to penetrate clouds and nighttime. Thus, a non-photographic system capable of providing that kind of imagery would have become more important during the 1970s when the Soviet Union began fielding road-mobile ICBMs. MOL’s requirement was to fly military astronauts and find something useful for them to do, and VHR was subservient to that requirement. If the astronauts were not needed, neither was VHR. In the early 1970s, the US Intelligence Community created the National Imagery Interpretability Rating Scale, or NIIRS, a subjective scale used for rating the quality of imagery acquired from various imagery systems. NIIRS consisted of ten levels, from 0 (worst quality) to 9 (best quality). The scales included the kinds of targets that could be identified for each level. (See Table 1) These changed over time as some targets, like obsolete weapons systems, were removed from use and no longer seen in imagery. NIIRS provides a good introduction to the kinds of things that could be seen in imagery, and NIIRS 9 represented the very high resolution category that Selin and Geer had discussed in 1968. But looking at NIIRS only provides some of the story—it tells us the kinds of targets that could be seen. It does not answer the “so what?” question of their importance to the intelligence community. In 1973, the NRO evaluated a proposal for an updated GAMBIT satellite with a larger mirror, capable of achieving the VHR goal. This would have required new development money, including an improved Titan III rocket. (See “Advanced Gambit and VHR,” The Space Review, July 25, 2022.) But GAMBIT-3’s resolution was improving steadily throughout this time. Although the resolution capabilities of the GAMBIT-3 film-return system then in service are mostly classified, some information has been released. In 1969, GAMBIT-3’s best resolution was around 13 inches (33 centimeters). It improved steadily throughout the 1970s with several upgrades. By March 1975, a GAMBIT-3 satellite had returned imagery with 4.5-inch (11.4-centimeter) ground resolution, and by the end of the program it had returned imagery reportedly of “better than four inches.” Thus, the National Reconnaissance Office achieved the upper end of very high resolution by the mid-1970s without developing an entirely new system. This helps explain why GAMBIT stayed in service until 1984 even though the KH-11 KENNEN entered service in late 1976—GAMBIT-3 provided higher resolution photos than KENNEN for many years. If KENNEN’s overall evolution followed the same general path as CORONA, GAMBIT, and HEXAGON, then its designers undoubtedly sought to improve its capabilities over time until they eventually exceeded the original requirements. KENNEN started as a high resolution system, but almost certainly achieved very high resolution capability at some time in the 1980s. How much that capability was of value to the intelligence community remains unknown. Further reading: James Edward David, “How much detail do we need to see? High and very high resolution photography, GAMBIT, and the Manned Orbiting Laboratory,” INTELLIGENCE AND NATIONAL SECURITY, 2017, VOL. 32, NO. 6, 768!781 Table 1: Visible National Imagery Interpretability Rating Scale (NIIRS) - March 1994 RATING LEVEL O Interpretability of the imagery is precluded by obscuration, degradation, or very poor resolution. RATING LEVEL1 Detect a medium-sized port facility and/or distinguish between taxiways and runways at a large airfield. RATING LEVEL2 Detect large hangars at airfields. Detect large static radars (e.g., AN/FPS-85, COBRA DANE, PECHORA, HENHOUSE). Detect military training areas. Identify an SA-5 site based on road pattern and overall site configuration. Detect large buildings at a naval facility (e.g., warehouses, construction hall). Detect large buildings (e.g., hospitals, factories). RATING LEVEL 3 Identify the wing configuration (e.g., straight, swept delta) of all large aircraft (e.g., 707, CONCORD, BEAR, BLACKJACK). Identify radar and guidance areas at a SAM site by the configuration, mounds, and presence of concrete aprons. Detect a helipad by the configuration and markings. Detect the presence/absence of support vehicles at a mobile missile base. Identify a large surface ship in port by type (e.g., cruiser, auxiliary ship, noncombatant/merchant). Detect trains or strings of standard rolling stock on railroad tracks (not individual cars). RATING LEVEL 4 Identify all large fighters by type (e.g., FENCER, FOXBAT, F-15, F-14). Detect the presence of large individual radar antennas (e.g., TALL KING). Identify, by general type, tracked vehicles, field artillery, large river crossing equipment, wheeled vehicles when in groups. Detect an open missile silo door. Determine the shape of the bow (pointed or blunt/rounded) on a medium-sized submarine (e.g., ROMEO, HAN, Type 209, CHARLIE II, ECHO II, VICTOR II/III). Identify individual tracks, rail pairs, control towers, switching points in rail yards. RATING LEVEL 5 Distinguish between a MIDAS and a CANDID by the presence of refueling equipment (e.g., pedestal and wing pod). Identify radar as vehicle-mounted or trailer-mounted. Identify, by type, deployed tactical SSM systems (e.g., FROG, SS-21, SCLID). Distinguish between SS-25 mobile missile TEL and Missile Support Vans (MSVs) in a known support base, when not covered by camouflage. Identify TOP STEER or TOP SAIL air surveillance radar on KIROV-, SOVREMENNY-, KIEV-, SLAVA-, MOSKVA-, KARA-, or KRESTA-II-class vessels. Identify individual rail cars by type (e.g., gondola, flat, box) and/or locomotives by type (e.g., steam, diesel). RATING LEVEL 6 Distinguish between models of small/medium helicopters (e.g., HELIX A from HELIX B from HELIX C, HIND D from HIND E, HAZE A from HAZE B from HAZE C). Identify the shape of antennas on EW/GCI/ACQ radars as parabolic, parabolic with clipped corners or rectangular. Identify the spare tire on a medium-sized truck. Distinguish between SA-6, SA-ll, and SA-17 missile airframes. Identify individual launcher covers (8) of vertically launched SA-N-6 on SLAVA-class vessels. Identify automobiles as sedans or station wagons. RATING LEVEL 7 Identify fitments and fairings on a fighter-sized aircraft (e.g., FULCRUM, FOXHOUND). Identify ports, ladders, vents on electronics vans. Detect the mount for antitank guided missiles (e.g., SAGGER on BMP-1). Detect details of the silo door hinging mechanism on Type III-F, III-G, and II-H launch silos and Type III-X launch control silos. Identify the individual tubes of the RBU on KIROV-, KARA-, KRIVAK-class vessels. Identify individual rail ties. RATING LEVEL 8 Identify the rivet lines on bomber aircraft. Detect horn-shaped and W-shaped antennas mounted atop BACKTRAP and BACKNET radars. Identify a hand-held SAM (e.g., SA-7/14, REDEYE, STINGER). Identify joints and welds on a TEL or TELAR. Detect winch cables on deck-mounted cranes. Identify windshield wipers on a vehicle. RATING LEVEL 9 Differentiate cross-slot from single slot heads on aircraft skin panel fasteners. Identify small light-toned ceramic insulators that connect wires of an antenna canopy. Identify vehicle registration numbers (VRN) on trucks. Identify screws and bolts on missile components. Identify braid of ropes (1 to 3 inches in diameter). Detect individual spikes in railroad ties. Dwayne Day can be reached at zirconic1@cox.net.