There are the facts, and then there is more. For the International Space Station, the facts are straightforward and measured, as NASA is wont to do. It begins long ago with endless concepts for a permanent foothold in space, move finally to the first hardware placed in orbit in 1998, a Russian module (purchased by the US government), and along to tragedy, the loss of Columbia and her crew in February 2003. Then a decision, the Space Shuttle flights will end, but not until completing the construction of the station (in twenty-two more flights.) Since the start, two hundred and seventy-three people from twenty-one nations have been to the station. Yet, with many years remaining and much can happen in the unforgiving environment of space, the ending to the station’s story is not a given. Officially, as NASA plans go, the plan is to de-orbit the station around 2030. “De-orbit” is the technical version of saying NASA will bring the station to a fiery end, shoving it into Earth’s atmosphere, causing a violent disassembly with its pieces scattered into the Pacific Ocean.
It’s natural to believe this ending is written in stone, like the laws of physics, where all that goes up must come down, and all things age and decline. But can we imagine an alternate end to the ISS? Can we imagine no ending at all?
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To temper our imagination, we need not go far. The sister program to the ISS was always the Space Shuttle. These two colossally complex systems overlapped in time, workforce, technology, and spirit. Their eras are more similar than different. With the last Shuttle flight in 2011, NASA moved on to the SpaceX Falcon 9 and other rockets as a service, leading to a newly vibrant US space sector merely hoped for at the time. SpaceX has since launched cargo to the ISS twenty-nine times and crew eight times. With the promise of space more compelling every day, private investors have put billions into other space companies as well. Leading the pack, the Falcon 9 rocket and the Dragon spacecraft carry on the torch of reusability once the sole domain of Shuttles. Falcons now launch every few days for customers from around the globe and to construct the massive Starlink constellation providing broadband services worldwide.
This shift to NASA as an investor and advisor and to companies as partners has succeeded wildly. Beyond anything initially imagined, the end of the Shuttle story became a beginning for so much more.
This leads to a temptation. We don’t need to overthink the end of the ISS, either why or what comes after. A mental jump powered by analogy says the end of the ISS will also be a new beginning for private sector growth we can’t fully imagine.
Whereas the end of the Shuttle meant growth in getting “to” space, the sequel after the end of the ISS story will be about growth in the business of humans “in” space. NASA did this once. Now, rinse and repeat.
The end of the Shuttle and the end of the ISS – similar plans, similar problems.
The analogy keeps on giving. Human spaceflight suffered a “gap” of nine years between the end of the Shuttle and the first crewed Dragon flight. Now, a “gap” repeats as a concern the ISS will be de-orbited, but no private commercial station will be ready to provide services to anyone, NASA or otherwise. The end of the Shuttle and the end of the ISS – similar plans, similar problems.
And yet, the notion of a station transition where NASA sings “Let it Go,” moving on to being one customer among many, rests on the sense that there was a plan before for continuing to get to orbit. The plan succeeded, problems and all. Now, there is a similar plan for maintaining a human presence living and working in low Earth orbit. But is this only partly true, from a mix of myth, a belief NASA is a singular Borg-like entity and a misunderstanding of how NASA is built?
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There was no shortage of negative opinion inside NASA as its “commercial” push began, where NASA partly funds partners, also asking them to develop non-NASA business. “After the cargo program fails, we’ll have it as an example to shut up the crowd saying the private sector can do better. Here’s the proof. We tried; they could not deliver.” This story is recounted as relatively common by people in the commercial cargo program at the time. These critics did not expect SpaceX or other companies to succeed. If there was a plan, for some, it was for “new space” to fail.
“SpaceX prices are unsustainable. Any day now, they will renege on pricing or go bankrupt.” This came from a senior NASA manager speaking with me at a conference. I began the chit-chat with curiosity about possibilities and a desire to understand differing scenarios. I was met with disdain as if the topic of cheap access to space were alien autopsy adjacent. More versions of this critique came my way later, uninvited, as I crunched the numbers for cargo. NASA benefitted enormously by getting supplies to the ISS with its newly available (but not owned) rockets and spacecraft versus the Shuttle. I was told that my numbers were correct by the contractual record, but the cheap pricing would prove a lie.
“We stop the commercial advance here!”
History repeated with the commercial crew program. “Boeing is the only one that can build a human-rated spacecraft.” And, “Pressure is building to pick only one commercial crew provider – Boeing.” And lastly, “What worked for cargo won’t work for crew. Cargo is just dumb payload we don’t really care about and can risk.” The winds were shifting, and the commercial cargo program was no longer an easy target. So, a new narrative arose, where the success of cargo services didn’t apply to what NASA did next.
Once again, the courageous efforts of the few fought the original plans – to fail, or await failure, to end competition, or to stop “commercial” initiatives after the cargo program. By 2011, I imagined a certain NASA manager in front of an oversized table covered with a map and toy models of rockets and spaceships. He emphatically strikes a spot *whack* with a wooden pointer stick, startling the underlings, saying, “We stop the commercial advance here!”
Predictably, success has many fathers (I was not one, busy on another front), so this narrative arose where everything NASA did before to go commercial was always the plan. Not that a few didn’t see it coming and pay a price to bring about success. Before the success of the commercial cargo program, there were advocates for NASA embracing an approach akin to how the FAA established demand for Air Mail to grow the civil aeronautics sector. Cargo to the station, the food, water, equipment, and experiments were the mail to deliver. None of these advocates for “making markets, not rockets” had it easy. (Then Deputy NASA Administrator Lori Garver abundantly documents this in her book “Escaping Gravity.”)
With success, complicated events proving out a minority opinion unsurprisingly simplify. Soon, everyone says, “I said it was a good idea all along!” This is the real lesson when planning for what comes after the ISS. There are many motives and complex events in motion, and there is the advertised plan. Always look deeper to see if these are as connected as they seem.
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The NASA plan for de-orbiting the ISS is part and parcel of a plan for a commercial continued human presence in orbit. Officially, this mashup gives you a straightforward doppelganger of NASA’s prior shift around getting to space. After the commercial cargo and crew programs, another commercial approach has easily found its place in NASA. In a reversal of fortune, advocates for such “commercial” partnering would seem to have won the day. The war is over, “cost-plus” lost. Everyone really is on board with the plan, the plan is growth, and ending the ISS naturally follows. Or does it?
From the top – the goal is to grow our human presence in orbit to a degree we cannot imagine now. What follows? The connection between growth and the end of the ISS leads to a discussion about private sector investors, motives and NASA commitment. NASA must end the ISS as an operational capability if private investors are to believe NASA is truly committed to providing them business in the future. Investors must see NASA is closing the door to backups and other options, leaving no choice but to buy space and time on their future stations. Convincing commitment is a critical ingredient in NASA public-private partnerships.
It’s a tidy package. Or are we missing something?
Further, the logic goes that de-orbiting the ISS will free up funding NASA will use elsewhere. This fiscal factor is presented as a side-effect, a “plus” on the ledger rather than a driver. (As no one wants to say ending the ISS is merely to collect a windfall.)
Lastly, the justification goes, the ISS cannot be maintained in a “mothball” status, like so many NASA facilities awaiting some use. That could ruin the impression of commitment to future stations and zero out the budget savings NASA needs to pay for its next steps. There is no such thing as abandoning a facility in space, orbital decay meaning we must always pay to boost the thing occasionally, or gravity will take care of de-orbiting it for us. Uncontrollably.
It’s a tidy package. This all seems proper, logical, and well-intentioned. Commitment. Fiscal reality. Moving on. Letting go. Some physics is thrown in, too, which, like DNA in a court case, is presented as irrefutable. Or are we missing something?
Unlike ending Shuttle flights, the ISS is already in orbit. Ending the station operationally does not require de-orbiting it. If we are using analogies to justify destroying the ISS, why not use the analogy to show why not. The Space Shuttles ended up in museums, why not the ISS – but in higher Earth orbit? As NASA ponders spending a billion dollars on a vehicle to push the station to a fiery end, it’s worth at least as much to push it up instead of down. While no existing vehicle can boost the station to a “graveyard orbit,” no current vehicle can de-orbit it either. A decommissioned station would be powered down, decompressed, and rendered immediately inoperable by lack of maintenance. NASA’s commitment to future stations would remain clear, funding would free up, and a higher orbit would put the physics in our favor.
One day, two futures.
It is 2058. In the first timeline, NASA de-orbited the ISS in 2033 (delays in the plan, of course.) Somewhere in orbit a young woman is reading about the ISS, accompanied by a vague memory of childhood. The chapter is short. The wondrous ISS is nearly a footnote in history, as there is more to cover about goings on Earth’s cis-lunar space. Business plans, materials, medicines, and math.
A second timeline. 2058. Here, NASA did not de-orbit the ISS. A tug approaches the ISS, one among the thousands of visitors a year. The sun illuminates the station as the tug circles around, the awe of an ancient cathedral at dawn. Inspiring, still performing its mission, the remains of the International Space Station effort point the way to the nations of Earth.
It was never only about zero-gravity experiments, studies or business plans. And back on Earth, for all that’s been built up in orbit since, the ISS continues its mission, calling. Come, remember, see with your own eyes what’s possible when we work together. And go further.
Zapata Talks NASA 