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Flying Reactors Downey, Forestier, & Mill

The Political Feasibility of

Nuclear Power in Space
COLLEGE OF AEROSPACE DOCTRINE,

RESEARCH AND EDUCATION

AIR UNIVERSITY

Flying Reactors

The Political Feasibility of 

Nuclear Power in Space

JAMES R. DOWNEY

Lieutenant Colonel, USAFR

ANTHONY M. FORESTIER

Wing Commander, RAAF

DAVID E. MILLER

Lieutenant Colonel, USAF

CADRE Paper No. 22

Air University Press

Maxwell Air Force Base, Alabama 36112-6615

April 2005
ii

Air University Library Cataloging Data

Downey, James R.

Flying reactors : the political feasibility of nuclear power in space / James R.

Downey, Anthony M. Forestier, David E. Miller.

—p. ; cm. – (CADRE paper, 1537-3371 ; 22)

Includes bibliographical references.

ISBN 1-58566-138-4

1. Space vehicles—Nuclear power plants. 2. Nuclear power—Public opinion. 3.

Nuclear power—Government policy. I. Title. II. Forestier, Anthony M. III. Miller, David E.,

1960– IV. Series. V. Air University (US). College of Aerospace Doctrine, Research and

Education.

629.4753—dc22

This CADRE Paper and others in the series are available

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http://research.maxwell.af.mil and the AU Press Web site

http://aupress.maxwell.af.mil.

Disclaimer

Opinions, conclusions, and recommendations expressed or implied within are solely those of

the authors and do not necessarily represent the views of Air University, the United States Air

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CADRE Papers are occasional publications sponsored by

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iii
Contents

Chapter Page

DISCLAIMER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ii

FOREWORD . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . vii

ABOUT THE AUTHORS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xi

1 WHITHER SPACE NUCLEAR POWER? . . . . . . . . 1

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11

2 SPACE NUCLEAR POWER AS 

TRANSSCIENTIFIC PUBLIC POLICY . . . . . . . . . . 13

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

3 POLITICAL PERMISSION—THE 

CONTEMPORARY DIMENSIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . 21

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43

4 A TRANSSCIENTIFIC POLITICAL 

ENGAGEMENT STRATEGY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 67

5 CONCLUSIONS . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 74

Appendix

A THE HISTORY OF SPACE NUCLEAR 

POWER . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 75

Notes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 87

B PROJECT PROMETHEUS—

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS—

DECEMBER 2003 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 89

C THE MEMBER GROUPS OF THE 

FLORIDA COALITION FOR PEACE AND 

JUSTICE OR STOP CASSINI! CAMPAIGN . . . . . . 103

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107

v
Illustrations

Figure Page

1 Required power level versus mission 

duration for space applications . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4

2 Space nuclear power program feasibility . . . . . . 9

3 Public attitudes toward selected 

technologies, 2002 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23

4 Public assessment of space exploration, 

1985 to 2001 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25

5 Societal level of interest in SNP: 

Illustrating neutral bias . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28

6 Societal bias and activation sought 

by program proponents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

7 Societal bias and activation sought 

by program opponents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29

8 Citizens who trust the United States 

federal government, 1958 to 2002 . . . . . . . . . . . 33

9 SNP program feasibility space . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 49

Tables

1 Key Characteristics of Solar, RTG, and 

Fission Reactor Space Power Systems . . . . . . . . 5

2 Traits of Democracies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41

3 Potential Stakeholders in a 

Values-Focused Decision Strategy . . . . . . . . . . . 56

vi
Foreword

One of the challenges Gen John P. Jumper, chief of staff of

the Air Force, sends to Air Force students, researchers, and

staff offices is to investigate future concepts of operations

(CONOPS). One in particular relates to this study, the

CONOPS for space and command, control, communications,

computers, intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance.

The Air Force is very sensitive about incorporating new technology into its operations. While the authors advocate a feasibility study for reactors in space in a CONOPS, they also

explore a deeper problem with widespread societal rejection

and revulsion concerning the theoretical employment of

nuclear technology in space.

They point first to the mission enabling advantages of

nuclear reactors in space—factors like light weight, high

power, long life, and potentially lower costs. A reactor would

supply electrical power to a space vehicle and perhaps provide

ionic or electrical propulsion. They see that nuclear-powered

spacecraft would serve long-range National Aeronautics and

Space Administration (NASA) missions as well as permit effective hyperspectral satellites that would have profound benefits

for the Department of Defense.

The limiting factors for nuclear power in space are a compelling mission requirement and broad acceptance in popular

support. The first factor is rather obvious but the second is

driven by a broad-based fear of risks in the employment of

nuclear technology. Many have general doubts about such an

undertaking. Some opponents perceive cataclysmic dangers. A

failure of a space launch carrying nuclear systems would produce something on the order of a “dirty” nuclear bomb. Opponents are rigorous in their protest. Two things were clear to

these researchers. One, nuclear space developers must convince the public that they are capable of developing a safe and

robust system.

Two, because the political battle is primarily over perceived

risks rather than empirically based understanding, employment of a values-focused decision strategy is necessary to convii
vince the public and congressional leaders of the feasibility of

a space nuclear program.

Flying Reactors: The Political Feasibility of Nuclear Power in

Space was written as part of the Air Force Fellows research

requirement. The College of Aerospace Doctrine, Research and

Education (CADRE) is pleased to publish this study as a

CADRE Paper and thereby make it available to a wider audience

within the Air Force and beyond.

DANIEL R. MORTENSEN

Chief of Research

Airpower Research Institute, CADRE

viii
About the Authors

Lt Col James R. Downey, PhD, is a member of the Air Force

Reserve and is assigned to the Air War College Center for

Strategy and Technology at Maxwell AFB, Alabama. In his

civilian career, Dr. Downey is professor of Science and Technology at the Army War College, Carlisle Barracks, Pennsylvania.

During fiscal year 2004, Colonel Downey was a National Security Fellow at the JFK School of Government at Harvard University. Prior to the start of his Air Force Fellowship, Colonel

Downey was chairman of the Physics Department, Grove City

College, Grove City, Pennsylvania. His previous AF Reserve

assignment was as an adjunct faculty member, Air Command

and Staff College, Maxwell AFB. He has a broad background in

national security policy, nuclear physics, systems analysis,

and managing scientific research and development programs.

Colonel Downey holds a graduate degree in nuclear engineering and a doctorate in aerospace engineering. He is a graduate

of Squadron Officer School and Air Command and Staff College,

as well as the AF Fellowship Program.

Wing Cdr Anthony M. Forestier, Medal of the Order of

Australia, is a Royal Australian Air Force (RAAF) flight-test

navigator currently assigned to Australia’s Defence Strategy

Group as deputy director of Military Strategy. He was a

National Security Fellow at Harvard University, class of 2004,

and before that commanded the School of Air Navigation. He

has been a faculty member at the RAAF Command and Staff

College, and was a chief of Air Force Fellows in 1990 where he

published a monograph Into the Fourth Dimension: A Guide to

Space. Commander Forestier has operational experience on

C-130 Hercules and P-3C Orion aircraft, flight test experience

on a variety of aircraft including Blackhawk and F-111C, and is

a flight navigator and postgraduate weapons/avionics systems

instructor. He is an experienced staff officer with a background

in strategy development and implementation, force development,

defense science, and training. He holds graduate degrees in

defense studies, management, and aerosystems. Commander

Forestier is a graduate of Harvard University; the University of

ix
Canberra; and the Royal Air Force College, Cranwell, England.

He was awarded an Order of Australia medal in 2004.

Lt Col David E. Miller is currently assigned to the US European Command Strategy, Plans, and Programs Directorate.

During fiscal year 2004, Colonel Miller was a National Security

Fellow at the JFK School of Government at Harvard University.

Prior to the start of his fellowship, Colonel Miller was commander of the 1st Reconnaissance Squadron at Beale AFB,

California. He has also served as the dual-hatted commander

of the 99th Expeditionary Reconnaissance Squadron and

Detachment 1 of the 9th Operations Group during Operation

Enduring Freedom and Operation Iraqi Freedom. He has a

broad background in combat operations, national security

policy formulation, military campaign strategy, systems analysis, experimental flight test, and managing military acquisition

programs. Colonel Miller holds graduate degrees in systems

management and airpower studies. He is a graduate of Squadron

Officer School and Air Command and Staff College. He is also

a graduate of the School of Advanced Airpower Studies and

the USAF Test Pilot School.

x
Acknowledgments

The authors wish to express their sincere appreciation to

Ms. Mary Schumacher and Lt Col Courtney Holmberg for their

assistance in the preparation of this manuscript. The authors

also wish to thank the many people who agreed to be interviewed in support of this project: Victoria Friedensen and Col

Karl Walz of NASA, Mr. Bob Shaw of the Office of the Secretary

of Defense, Dr. Roald Segdeev of the University of Maryland,

Dr. Karl Mueller of RAND, Dr. Nicholas Miclovitch of Air Force

XP (Pentagon Office of Strategic Plans), and Dr. George Ullrich

of Science Applications International Corporation. Finally, the

authors are indebted to their families for their support during

the many hours of research, writing, and editing that were

necessary to complete this project.

xi
Chapter 1

Whither Space Nuclear Power?

Our ordinary citizens, though occupied with the pursuits of

industry, are still fair judges of public matters; . . . and instead of looking on discussion as a stumbling block in the

way of action, we think of it as an indispensable preliminary to any wise action at all.

—Pericles

This paper addresses the question: What mechanism(s)

would improve the political feasibility of a nuclear power program for US space operations? For a period of more than 50

years, the United States has been exploring the potential of

nuclear-powered reactors for use in a variety of space-based

applications. From the earliest days, there have been numerous

challenges—some technical, many political—that have impeded

progress in every program that the United States has considered. The issues surrounding space nuclear power (SNP) are

complex and multifaceted. For the United States, the development of SNP lies at the intersection of program cost benefit

and the social perception of risk. The actual decision to employ SNP is finally political—encompassing political judgment,

will, and acceptance of risk. But if the current climate surrounding nuclear use remains manifest, the future for SNP

looks politically challenging.

The specter of a Delta IV rocket carrying a nuclear-powered

satellite exploding on launch from Florida is an outcome the

US government and its agencies would rather not confront.

Though that has never happened, it remains the type of image

that the anti-SNP lobby, under the umbrella of groups like the

Florida Coalition for Peace and Justice (FCPJ), presents as a

potential outcome of SNP programs. 

The FCPJ cites past space-based nuclear incidents and a

lack of public confidence in government agencies to combine

nuclear and space technologies safely as a cause for serious

1
public concern. Their premise is that the reward promised by

programs needing or wanting to take advantage of the operational benefits offered by SNP does not outweigh the risk of adverse environmental outcomes. They believe that, as a corollary

to SNP for space science, the United States is committed to

weaponizing space. The FCPJ and its allies do not trust the

government, and they seek to align others to their cause to

stop all SNP programs, building on the disquiet felt by many

US citizens about nuclear power. The FCPJ advances its cause

via political and legal arenas, specifically by engaging in public

protest, political activism, lobbying, and legal challenge. 

On the other side of the debate, the US National Aeronautics

and Space Administration (NASA) would like to fire the imagination of the public with the glories of space exploration to ensure the longevity of the space program and to counter the

public’s disquiet to enable missions requiring SNP. Fascinating images of Mars, Saturn, Jupiter, Neptune, and Uranus fill

TV screens and adorn the front covers of glossy magazines.

People are eager for information about space. In 2012 NASA’s

proposed SNP-based Jupiter Icy Moon Orbiter (JIMO) may use

advanced sensors to search under the icy surface of Jupiter’s

moons Callisto, Ganymede, and Europa.1 In the water believed

to be under the ice, there may be an answer to the question:

Is there life on other worlds? Space science, enabled by SNP,

may soon address one of our most profound questions.

From the perspective of the Department of Defense (DOD)

perhaps in the decade 2010–2020, the United States and its

allies may take comfort in the fact that—although terrorism

has not been eliminated—a constellation of large, long-lived

SNP satellites with their hyperspectral sensors have made the

problem of global intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) more manageable. Terrorists and proliferators of

nuclear weapons and associated delivery systems will find

fewer opportunities to act and places to hide. 

Is SNP an environmental menace or a feasible enabling

technology? The argument is polarized in the United States,

the epicenter of the debate as the world’s most capable spacefaring and democratic nation. There are valid arguments for

both sides. Each side of the debate has its active proponents,

2

CADRE PAPER
supported by allies and ad hoc coalitions of stakeholders. Yet,

between the interlocutors in the debate there is the vast, unaligned, and politically passive or inactive majority. The public is interested in space science but is also sensitive to the

costs and risks. Politically aligned and activated, even a small

part of that majority would pose pressure that policy makers

in the government could not ignore, and such pressure may

determine the feasibility of SNP systems going forward.

Despite the polarization in the public debate about SNP,

there is no doubt about the attractiveness of the technology to

support space-based missions. Space science and national security are both missions enabled by the next generation of

satellites and space vehicles. Such vehicles may depend on

onboard nuclear reactors to reliably generate large amounts of

electricity for power and propulsion.

Motivation for Space Nuclear Power

All space vehicles require onboard power sources. For most

space systems, a combination of batteries and solar panels

provides onboard electrical power. Figure 1 illustrates the

characteristics that alternative energy sources offer for space

missions.

A few examples of how this graph is interpreted should

prove useful in explaining its meaning. If a particular mission

requires 1,000 kilowatts of electric power (kWe) and must last

for one day, then chemical batteries are suitable for accomplishing this mission. A system such as the international

space station, which requires approximately 240 kWe and

must function for several years, uses solar panels.2 The graph

shows that for space missions demanding both high power

(100 kWe and more) and long duration (months to years), fission

reactors offer the only existing practicable option for providing

electrical energy to the spacecraft. Reactors also promise

power for thrust. These capabilities are attractive and make

SNP desirable as an enabling technology for multiple purposes. Radioisotope thermoelectric generators (RTG), a commonly used form of SNP, offer less power than reactors but an

equally long life, and they have utility for deep space missions

where the Sun’s energy density is too low for solar panels to be

3

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
effective. Table 1 summarizes the key technical characteristics

of SNP compared to solar power.

SNP’s technological advantages make it attractive as a

power source. These significant advantages raise the question

as to why the United States currently does not have any SNP

systems. History provides insight to the contemporary argument.

Space Nuclear Power History 

and Its Implications

The United States has had a public policy interest in the development of SNP since the late 1950s. Over the years there

have been several attempts to build space nuclear reactors for

these purposes. Despite this extended effort, neither NASA nor

DOD has deployed an operational SNP system. It is now ap4

CADRE PAPER

105

104

103

102

101

100

10-1

1 hour 1 day 1 month 1 year 10 years

Duration of Use

Electric Power Level (kWe)

Fission Reactors

Fission Reactors & Solar

Dynamic Radioisotope

Generators & Solar

Radioisotope

Thermoelectric

Generators & Solar

Solar

Chemical

Figure 1. Required power level versus mission duration for space applications. (Reprinted from Joseph A. Angelo and David Buden, Space Nuclear

Power [Malabar, Fla.: Orbit Book Company, 1985], ix.)
proaching 50 years since the initial proposal of SNP. It is difficult to think of another scientific development program that

political concerns have stalled for so long. Therefore, to contemplate a modern public policy maker’s decision as to whether

or not to deploy SNP, we must understand both the scientific

history of SNP and the politics that have delayed the deployment of reactors in space for so long. This section highlights

the key points that one can deduce from the history. Appendix

A presents a more detailed review of SNP past programs.

Before moving to a brief history of SNP, the authors offer

RTGs as an example of another nuclear-based technology used

for several space missions. RTGs are made using an isotope of

plutonium (Pu-238). This isotope generates large amounts of

5

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER

Solar RTG

Fission 

Reactor

Energy Density

(mass-volume-output) Low High High

Electrical Power Level Up to High

Up to 

Moderate

Up to 

Very High

Reliability High Very High High

Propulsion No No Yes

Life Long Very Long Very Long

Cost High (1) Low Low (2)

Relative Safety Very High Moderate High (3)

Publicly Perceived Safety Very High Low Low

Output Decreases with Distance 

from Sun Yes No No

(1) A large part of the cost of a solar-powered space system is incurred in the launch

budget. This is because solar panels are heavy for their power output. Further, their life is

relatively short (about seven years, sometimes longer) and demands a frequent launch

cycle to maintain a satellite constellation.

(2) The cost of a developed reactor is relatively low, and in assigning this rating we have not

included the initial development costs to produce a space-rated reactor. This was done to

make a baseline comparison against the other technologies presented, whose initial development costs are already met. Further, the cost for a fission reactor is only low if the

developing nation already has a nuclear program to provide fuel.

(3) Assuming the reactor is activated outside the Earth’s gravity well (about 1,000 km orbit).

Table 1. Key Characteristics of Solar, RTG, and Fission Reactor Space

Power Systems
heat as it undergoes radioactive decay, and the heat is then

converted to electricity. RTGs have been the mainstay for virtually all of NASA’s deep space missions because of their high

reliability and long operating life. Until the 1980s, many NASA

missions used RTGs without incurring serious political opposition. However, in recent years opposing voices have increased

in volume if not number. They are also more organized and politically effective than before. The most significant example of

public protest against an RTG-SNP system was directed at the

Cassini mission that NASA launched in 1997. Appendix A discusses the Cassini mission and its political impact.

While RTGs are not the primary subject of this paper, the

political conditions of the recent past have made it clear that

continued use of RTGs might be difficult. In fact, the political

problems associated with RTG-based systems spill over to the

debate about reactors, if for no other reason than that they

both use nuclear materials as their primary source of energy.

Both the scientific and the political history of SNP shape the

current public policy debate. The early period of SNP occurred

during a time when scientists enjoyed tacit if not explicit permission from society and the government to develop SNP. In

addition, nuclear power projects were supported and promoted by popular culture that included the entertainment industry and extended to advertisements in the popular press.

The early programs were a scientific success and proved the

technical feasibility of SNP. The question is, given the initial

successes and the cultural permissions to pursue SNP technology, why has so little progress been made to date? To answer this question, one must understand the linked influences

of science and politics within the historical context.

From the 1950s through the late 1990s, there was no compelling requirement for power in space that an alternative

technology could not provide. Although SNP is technically feasible and extraordinarily capable in comparison to alternative

technologies, the politics of nuclear technologies appears to

have been a major impediment to SNP. This is apparent when

SNP is compared to the naval nuclear submarine program. It is

also clear that SNP quickly became a victim of the general fear

and anxiety that ground-based nuclear power caused in the

6

CADRE PAPER
minds of the public starting in the early 1970s. The risks and

rewards of SNP are in the public domain, and the political environment has made it extremely difficult to move the program

off the drawing board and into space. 

Complicating the situation is the political legacy of nuclear

technologies from the Cold War. The Cold War gave governments, particularly those of the United States and the Soviet

Union, essentially carte blanche authority to develop nuclear

technologies for the national defense and then to extend their

application into the civilian arena, notably for electrical power

generation and medicine. The Soviet Union did it through

communist central authority. The US government had tacit

approval for SNP from its public because of overriding national

security concerns. The US population had yielded to what sociologists call the “authoritarian reflex,” that is the tendency of

populations to trust government when they feel threatened.3

Accordingly, the people trusted their government to wisely use

a technology that few properly understood.

When the Cold War ended with the fall of the Berlin Wall in

1989, so in large part did the nuclear security imperative.

With the security imperative gone, and with the rise of individualism and postmaterialist values in the latter third of the

twentieth century, the US population effectively withdrew carte

blanche permission for the government to do as it would with

nuclear technologies. The public disclosure of some of the risks

both the US and Soviet governments took in experimenting

with nuclear technologies in the 1940s and 1950s gave many

pause, as did the 1979 Three Mile Island and 1986 Chernobyl

nuclear power station accidents. Emergent disclosure about

those early experiments and the public risk they engendered

exposed a new concern for policy makers: transscience.4

Transscientific Policy

Transscientific policy concerns those questions that arise

from science that science cannot directly answer. Researchers

are unable to experiment either because of limitations in technique or because experimental outcomes might involve excessive risk. There is a temporal dimension to transscience as

well, just because an issue is transscientific today does not

7

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
mean it necessarily will remain so as scientific technique improves or the political environment changes. 

Nuclear technologies were the first instance of a scientific

problem that entered the political realm as transscience. If mishandled as a matter of public policy, negative consequences of

the nuclear experimentation could be momentous. For example,

when Enrico Fermi was looking into the possible consequences

of detonating a nuclear explosion for the Trinity experiments

in the 1940s, one hypothetical outcome was that the nuclear

explosion would start an atomic chain reaction in the Earth’s

atmosphere. The atmosphere would be burnt off, destroying

life on Earth. Fermi himself went to the president to report this

conclusion and his concern. The possibility of such a catastrophic outcome was later discounted through calculation

and limited experimentation. However, there was never total

surety, and the successful conclusion of the Trinity event

must have brought tremendous relief. Transscientific doubt

concerning risk coupled with the possibility of catastrophic

consequence accompanied the first blaze of nuclear science.

For some uses of nuclear technologies, such as SNP, transscientific doubt about risk and consequence still exists.

In today’s political environment, SNP falls squarely into the

category of transscientific policy because of some of the risks

it inherently entails. For example, the risk of inadvertent release of Plutonium 238 from an RTG over a wide area due to

a space-system mishap could have environmental consequences

that cannot be safely tested, although it can be inferred. Such

inferences are open to dispute among experts. Receiving conflicting expert advice leaves both policy makers and the general public in a quandary as to whether SNP programs should

be supported. Consequential risk analyses for particular events

can easily bridge many orders of magnitude depending on

which expert speaks and how they weigh empirical factors. 

In the transscientific context, decision making becomes a

matter of judgment, with the most salient concerning the risk

inherent in the enterprise—risk both measured and perceived.

For a particular program, risk should be considered in concert

with reward and relativity, as represented in figure 2. These

three axes inside a transscientific context represent the foun8

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dation of the policy model the authors propose in chapter 4 as

an aid to decision makers needing to make political judgments

about transscientific programs, such as SNP programs.

The intent of this paper is to address the question: What

mechanism would improve the political feasibility of a nuclear

power program for US space operations? The authors’ inquiries

have highlighted the fact that the answer to the question is

highly contextual and mainly a matter of political judgment.

Unlike pure science, transscientific policy must include scientific data interpretation by inference and political value judgments. Transscience is the art of synthesizing political solutions

that science informs but cannot solve. Empirical analysis is a

necessary but insufficient tool for solving transscientific problems. That conclusion, and the fact that some stakeholders

have not assimilated it, causes serious problems in engaging

the public with respect to SNP. The result is the discomfort felt

even in politically moderate circles. One side talks about empirical scientific facts (the proposing agencies) and historically

has largely ignored the public face of the political debate. The

other side counters with environmental and socially derived

values (the public opposition), focusing on worst-case scenarios

9

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER

Figure 2. Space nuclear power program feasibility.

1. Relativity Axis

(Cost Benefit)

3. Reward Axis

2. Risk Axis

Low High

Acceptable Unacceptable Low High

Realm of

Transscientific Policy

Making

A program falling in

this area is politically

nonfeasible
and potentially disastrous outcomes. The potential value of

SNP-enabled programs is sacrificed in the name of ultimate

safety. Both parties are talking past one another, and the ensuing polarized public debate is politically divisive. SNP remains

politically problematic, and the conduct of space science remains overtly politicized.

To address this problem, the authors present a model that

policy makers considering SNP can use to ensure they have

considered the positions of the stakeholders while respecting

the requirements of sound scientific judgment. The authors

argue that SNP policy requires a carefully considered public

engagement strategy. This engagement strategy should inform

the public of both the risks and rewards of SNP while respecting the scientific underpinnings of the policy options.

In this paper, the authors do not advocate for or against

SNP. In the context of space missions, SNP is an enabling

technology that needs consideration in the risk, relativity, and

reward framework proposed. SNP has its own advantages and

limitations that, when considered in conjunction with the political context, will either enable its use or not. For the SNP decision maker—who in this context is finally the president, as

the approving authority for nuclear space missions, supported

by Congress, as the body that authorizes funding—SNP lies at

the intersection of technical risk, the public’s perception of

that risk (social risk), and political risk. We advocate a policy

model that, if wisely exercised, will improve the NASA or DOD

program proponents’ chance of having a rationally based program seen as politically feasible by the decision makers. We

argue that such feasibility is contingent on the weight of public

opinion being, at worst, insufficient to stop the program. The

purpose of the policy model is to outline a democratically legitimate and scientifically sound mechanism to assist policy

makers in considering SNP as a transscientific policy problem.

As illustrated in figure 2, the aim of the program proponent,

in exercising the authors’ policy model, must be to minimize

the area of program “nonfeasibility.” Further, the program proponent should have developed measures of effectiveness (MOE)

to satisfy decision makers of the probity and political feasibility

of his proposal.

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In approaching the research question, the authors discovered that little has been written on the subject of SNP from a

policy perspective. This is somewhat surprising given the long

history of SNP. Numerous volumes contain the technical plans

and details for SNP systems and their applications. However,

the lack of policy analysis indicates a need that this paper seeks

to satisfy. In that vein, the arrangement of the remainder of the

paper to present the arguments outlined is as follows:

• Chapter 2: “Space Nuclear Power as Transscientific Public

Policy,” describes the nature of transscientific enquiry and

relates it to SNP programs.

• Chapter 3: “Political Permission—the Contemporary Dimensions,” examines contemporary society and its relationship

to technology and science to draw out the implications SNP

raises for contemporary policy and decision makers.

• Chapter 4: “A Transscientific Political Engagement Strategy,”

presents the values-focused decision strategy in association with the authors’ policy model.

• Chapter 5: “Conclusions,” summarizes the authors’ research approach and the authors’ recommendation for the

use of a values-focused decision strategy to determine the

political feasibility of transscientific policy options.

Notes

1. NASA, Jet Propulsion Laboratory, http://www.jpl.nasa.gov/jimo/ (accessed 5 Mar 2004).

2. NASA, http://spacelink.nasa.gov/Instructional.Materials/NASA.

Educational.Products/International.Space.Station.Solar.Arrays/ISS.Solar.

Arrays.pdf (accessed 5 Mar 2004).

3. Joseph S. Nye, Philip D. Zelikow, and David C. King, eds., Why People

Don’t Trust Government (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,

1997), 218.

4. First described by Alvin M. Weinberg, Science and Trans-science

(Alexandria, Va.: Minerva, 1972).

11

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
Chapter 2

Space Nuclear Power as 

Transscientific Public Policy

Many of the issues which arise in the course of the interaction between science or technology and society . . . hang

on the answers to questions which can be asked of science

and yet which cannot be answered by science.

—Alvin M. Weinberg

This chapter examines SNP as transscientific public policy.

From the scientific and historical perspectives, SNP is hypothetically possible and technologically feasible. Yet, from the

standpoint of weighing the political risks and rewards of pursuing SNP, science alone cannot and should not determine public

policy. Political concerns about unavoidable public risks, potential consequences, and political rewards proscribe scientists

from proceeding with experimentation and observation that

would objectively verify the risks and rewards of SNP as public

policy. These political limitations on the conduct of nuclear

science place SNP in the realm of transscientific policy making.

SNP, as is often the case with transscience issues, generates

political controversy by the intermingling of untested scientific

hypotheses with competing social values about the political risks

and rewards of a policy option. In the case of SNP, political controversy primarily comes from the perceived risk in launching,

orbiting, or deorbiting fissile material. As with most transscientific issues, the science that initially created the political

option continues to inform the political debate. However, scientific methods are inherently apolitical and not well suited to

make the value discriminations required in political judgments.

In a democratic society, scientific methods alone cannot resolve

transscientific political controversies.

13
The Political Limitations of the 

Nuclear Sciences

This section examines the nature of normal apolitical science

to determine how the continuation of the nuclear sciences can

become politically infeasible. Thomas Kuhn, in his seminal

work The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, describes science

as a process that develops iteratively and is one in which

anomalies in the scientific community’s world view accrue until

that world view must be fundamentally altered. Kuhn describes

normal science as follows: “Normal science means research

firmly based upon one or more past scientific achievements,

achievements that some particular scientific community acknowledges for a time as supplying the foundation for its further practice.”1

Therefore, normal science can be considered a strategy for

choosing what to believe about the natural world. In the case

of SNP, research and achievement in space exploration and

the nuclear sciences are the basis for political policy options.

These scientific achievements have provided a framework of

beliefs and knowledge that permit the formulation of scientific

hypotheses that in turn create new public policy options, such

as placing nuclear reactors in space. However, SNP has political

repercussions that scientific methods alone cannot address.

SNP is a public policy option that cannot be scientifically

tested or verified a priori because the potential political risks

and consequences make scientific rigor impracticable or unethical to attain without proper political oversight. Conversely,

respecting the rigorous requirements of sound scientific judgment is necessary to achieve proper political oversight.2

In transscientific policy making, science and politics are inextricably linked. When considering SNP as public policy, researchers must share the risks and rewards publicly and cannot confine them to a laboratory environment. Researchers

must respect the governance process before space nuclear experimentation can take place. Science provides the policy

maker with powerful tools that permit selection, evaluation,

and criticism of SNP policy options. However, science does not

provide the tools necessary to make political judgments concerning competing social values or to evaluate what risks are

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politically acceptable in a democratic society.3 Even within the

scientific community itself, social values often vary considerably from one discipline to the next.

These values inevitably affect scientific data selection, experimental design, outcome interpretation, and the criticism

of scientific technique. Social values and public perceptions

of risk and reward already have a powerful effect on ongoing

scientific research and public policies, and especially the

public policy options that nuclear science creates and informs.4 Ultimately, it is a political and not a scientific decision to accept or reject the risks of SNP, and science is but

one of several sets of tools available to a policy maker for a

political decision.

We now see that SNP has entered the realm of transscientific

policy making because science posits that SNP is technologically

feasible and highly desirable for many missions and at the

same time informs us of the potential risks of moving fissile

material into and out of space. Unfortunately, these political

risks and rewards cannot be proven with sufficient scientific

rigor before committing one way or the other on the policy option of placing nuclear power in space. Therefore, the political

risks and rewards must be inferred from available information. The policy maker then faces the dilemma of determining

whether the possible rewards of SNP outweigh the potential

risks of launching fissile material. 

The political debate over SNP is typical of transscientific

public policy issues insofar as the limitation that causes science

to move into the political realm is not an inherent limitation of

the scientific method. Rather, it is an appropriate political limitation on the conduct of scientific inquiry in a democratic society. When the public risks of SNP cannot be confined to a

controlled environment and the outcome of the endeavor has

political consequences, then transscientific policy formulation

is required. Ultimately, the goal of transscientific policy is to

manage the political calculus of public risk and reward while

protecting the intellectual integrity of the underlying science

that enables the political option.

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
Political Actors and Transscience

Political actors such as the Florida Coalition for Peace and

Justice (FCPJ) form communities that exert influence in a democratic society through their shared values. These values form

the foundation of the group’s political activity. In contrast with

the skepticism of purely scientific researchers, the nature of

political value judgments that scientific observation informs

but does not verify frequently causes political actors to have

rigorous and rigid perceptions of political good. This rigidity of

belief is remarkable, since the underpinning scientific knowledge is by definition indeterminate or unverifiable in transscience.5 Group dynamics also tend to reinforce political beliefs to ensure that shared beliefs exert a deep and enduring

hold on the political actors’ values.

Political actors often suppress fundamental scientific and

empirical data because they are subversive of their basic political position. It is nevertheless important to note that a central

premise of democratic politics is that the political community

can discover what policies are best through open political discourse and rational public debate. Political actors concerned

with transscientific issues will take great pains to defend the

premise of open, rational discourse even while actively attempting to suppress scientific analysis or ongoing research.

Therefore, transscientific political debate in a democracy tends

to devolve into a strenuous and sustained attempt by the political actors to force public policies into conformity with the

political value judgments presupplied by the actors.

Politics injected into the scientific process can result in politically biased interpretations of scientific fact and observation,

and it is difficult and time consuming to reconcile the political

actors’ biases and differing observations. Transscientific issues

tend to become seen increasingly as political issues and less

scientific in nature as the prevailing group of actors consolidates its political victory. The prevailing group may also construct political barriers to scientific investigation to strengthen

its political position.6 The politicization of a transscientific issue

can result in the long-term loss of opportunity for scientific investigation and research, and possibly, in the creation of an

antiintellectual political atmosphere that stifles scientific inquiry.

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Transscience and the 

Politics of Risk and Reward

This section defines the risks and rewards of SNP that nuclear

science cannot verify due to political constraints. Consider reward as political advantage, or at least acceptance, to proceed

with a policy option. Conversely, risk is the political liability of

proceeding with a policy option. Together with the usual political

tension of risk versus reward, consider transscientific policy

making as involving the art of reconciling the requirements of

science with the realities of democratic politics.

In other words, transscientific policy making has two distinct requirements. The first is to preserve the intellectual integrity of the scientific or technological inquiry that informs

the public debate. The second requirement is to conduct policy

making in an open and democratically legitimate way. Ultimately, transscientific policy making should develop sound

public policies that eventually depoliticize science, even though

the program itself is always subject to legitimate political constraints.7

Transscientific policy making can only offer methods for politically evaluating the technical aspects of SNP. Scientific inquiry informs politics of the possibilities of success or failure

by casting light on the technical risks and consequences.

Thus, transscientific policy formulation must articulate the

political assessment of the possible technical successes or failures. Transscientific policy making must grapple with the political risks and rewards in a democratically legitimate way

while preserving the intellectual integrity of the scientific endeavors underlying the political controversy. 

Technical assessment of the transscientific risks and rewards of SNP are grounded in the hard sciences, such as

mathematics, physics, and chemistry. However, in transscientific issues, the experimental tools of the hard sciences are

limited in scope and precision by political concerns and resource

limitations. Nevertheless, researchers can verify some aspects

of SNP with scientific rigor. A great deal of data can be collected and observed without actually launching fissile material

into space and much analysis can be done at the component

level of SNP without public risk. Yet the overall soundness of

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
SNP as a public policy cannot be tested without positively

committing to launching nuclear material.

The technical assessment of risk and reward consists of the

following:

• technical feasibility assessment of SNP at the component

level,

• evaluation of the technical risks of the policy option, and

• scientific extrapolation of the consequences of the policy

option.

The political assessment of SNP risk and reward is

grounded in the democratic governance process, and political

assessments are highly sensitive to how the arguments are

framed for public debate. Ultimately, policy decisions in transscience depend on value judgments about political risks and

rewards, which, in turn, arise from policy options that scientific methods cannot verify. Therefore, the efficacy of technical

risk and reward analysis and the political acceptability of consequences are rarely agreed upon by the stakeholders. 

The political assessment of risk and reward hinges on three

issues:

• political will of the stakeholders,

• subjective evaluation of the political risks, and

• political consequences and opportunity costs of the possible

outcomes.

This creates a classic political conundrum for the policy

maker with respect to SNP. Nuclear technologies are profound

technological enablers of space missions because they provide

high levels of power over long periods with high reliability and

comparatively low weight penalties. Nevertheless, not all the

technical engineering difficulties can be worked out until the

reactor is actually flown in space. The engineering difficulties

draw attention to the fact that there are inherent risks in

launching fissile material into space.8

These hypothetical risks, especially the environmental risks,

cannot be assessed with technical certainty, and the possible

consequences of a launch mishap make nuclear power in

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space politically infeasible without some sort of engagement

strategy to minimize both the technical and political risks. An

engagement strategy is needed that allows science to move forward and continue to inform the political debate and that

eventually reconciles the available scientific data with divergent perceptions of political risk and reward.

This chapter established that SNP is a classic problem in

transscience. In the modern context, policy decisions about

SNP must consider this crucial aspect. The situation is further

complicated by the contemporary context. Public attitudes toward nuclear power, particularly political permission for the

government to pursue the technology, are not assured. The

various aspects of the contemporary political climate are the

subjects of the next chapter.

Notes

1. Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1962), 10–11.

2. For a more detailed discussion see Sheila S. Jasanoff, “Citizens at

Risk: Cultures of Modernity in Europe and the U.S.,” Science as Culture 11,

no. 3 (2002): 363–80.

3. Sheldon Krimsky and Dominic Golding, Social Theories of Risk (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1992), 238.

4. Carlo C. Jaeger et al., Risk, Uncertainty and Rational Action (London:

Earthscan, 2001), 82.

5. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, 79.

6. For example see Karl Grossman, “Alternative Energy Meets Main Street,”

New Age, July/Aug 1999, 59.

7. For example, budgetary constraints could still arise without repoliticizing the science itself.

8. Patricia M. Stearns and Leslie I. Tennen, “Regulation of Space Activities and Trans-Science: Public Perceptions and Policy Considerations,”

Space Policy 11, no. 3 (Aug 1995): 182.

19

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
Chapter 3

Political Permission—

the Contemporary Dimensions

Sociologically, there is a big difference between those who

take risks and those who are victimized by the risks others

take.

—Ulrich Beck

—The Risk Society, 1992

The political context of SNP has changed fundamentally

from that of the Cold War era. The Cold War focus of the

United States and its allies on a monolithic, nuclear-capable

external threat is diffused today. Consequently, the tacit and

carte blanche public permission that the government had during the Cold War to pursue nuclear programs through executive

decision is revoked today. That is especially true for programs

that the public perceives to potentially pose significant environmental problems, such as SNP programs. As well, people today

question authority far more than they did in the Cold War era;

they trust government less than their forebears.1

All of this directly affects the political feasibility of SNP and

poses a challenge to those proposing space programs where

SNP is either preferred or necessary. As alluded to in the opening quotation, SNP program proponents no longer operate in a

context where they can conduct the relatively simple technical

assessments of risk—of which they are most familiar and use

the conclusions to satisfy the government that their program

is necessary and that risk is acceptably low. The new demand

is that they justify their programs in the public arena. This

means that programs must be politically and socially justifiable and supported, in addition to satisfying the normal internal

programmatics.

The audience to which SNP proponents must present such

justification and garner approval has broadened to the point

21
where public interest groups of various stripes are influential

in the decision process but are not formally part of it. In the

case of NASA, it is plausible that the public is only just recognizing implications of the contemporary state of affairs with

respect to SNP space science programs. NASA’s problematic

public engagement strategy relating to Cassini highlights this.

In the case of DOD, the need for a national-security imperative and the perceived risk of linkage to space weaponization

make SNP an issue of great public concern and a conduit for

political activism.

This chapter examines the contemporary political dimensions of the problem SNP program proponents face in satisfying leery United States and international communities of the

safety and practicality of SNP. More specifically, the chapter

develops the contemporary dimensions of the SNP debate in

terms of four areas:

• the context, with a focus on the contested nature of the

environment, public perception of risk, and the rising

hurdles of permission granted by the public to the government to employ SNP;

• the imperative, from the standpoint of program proponents: who proposes, why they propose, what they want,

and how they seek it, with a focus on contemporary and

near future missions where SNP is necessary or desirable;

• the resistance, by program opponents: who opposes, why

they oppose, what they want, and how they seek it; and

• the implications, a summary of imperatives and implications leading to the policy analysis model presented in

chapter 4.

The Context

Today’s prosperous, stable, and democratic industrial society

enjoys physical wealth and comfort arising from an economy

founded at least in part on technology. However, societal polarization can result when people are simultaneously attracted

to and repelled by the consequences of technology. This is particularly true for those technologies that the public perceives

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to intrinsically encapsulate both enormous social reward and

momentous risk. Such technologies include the nuclear and

genetic technologies, biotechnologies, and nanotechnologies.2

To illustrate this point, figure 3 depicts the relative coolness

the public feels towards those technologies perceived as high

risk (genetic engineering and nuclear technology), compared to

those perceived as benign (solar energy, computers, etc.). The

assimilation of technical risk into a public gestalt has produced

what Ulrich Beck described as “risk society” in his seminal

work of the same name.

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER

Figure 3. Public attitudes toward selected technologies, 2002. (Reprinted

from National Science Board, Science and Engineering Indictors, 2002, figure

7-11, http://www.nsf.gov/sbe/srs/seind02/c7/fig07-11.htm [accessed 11 Mar

2004].)

100

80

40

60

20

0

Solar Energy Computers Genetic

Engineering

Telecommunications Space

Exploration Internet Nuclear

Power

Will make things worse

Will improve

our way of life

Will improve

our way of life

Will improve

our way of life

Will improve

our way of life

Will improve

our way of life

Will improve

our way of life

Will improve

our way of life

Will make

things worse

Will make

things worse

Will make

things worse

Will make

things worse

Will make

things worse

Will make

things worse

United States (2000) Europe (1999) Canada (1999)

SOURCES: Gaskell, G., and Bauer, M.W. (editors) Biotechnology 1996–2000, National Museum of Science and Industry (U.K.) and Michigan State

University Press. The 1999 and 2000 surveys were conducted by George Gaskell, Martin Bauer, and Nick Alum for the European Commission;

Susanna Priest, Texas A&M University; and Edna Einsiedel, University of Calgary.

Science & Engineering Indicators – 2002

A risk society is one that perceives risk in technology because it does not automatically trust it or its proponents, political or scientific, yet paradoxically enjoys technology’s fruits,

even if only those from a list sanctioned by their conscience.

Some groups in risk society perceive cataclysmic outcomes from

particular technologies or technology mixes and are prepared
to protest against them. That is the case with SNP, where opponents claim, with some justification from the experience of

the recent past, that the combination of a failure of a launch

or orbital system carrying radioactive materials produces the

equivalent of a dirty nuclear bomb. The reality of the risk is

somewhat different, but such a perception exists in the public

arena. So the battle is joined, SNP proponents versus opponents. But are they fighting in the same conflict space?

The conflict space is murky; it is essentially political, value

laden, inhabited by the passionate on both sides, and covers

an issue that is by nature transscientific. The object of the

fight is the hearts and minds of nonaligned Middle America.

The conflict space is further clouded by public ignorance:

about 70 percent of Americans lack a clear understanding of

the scientific process which compromises their capacity to

understand technical risk and make rational, well-informed

choices as to who to listen to in contested risk assessments,

and why.3

As well, the public has been ambivalent about the costs versus the benefits of space exploration, with opinion divided

roughly equally since at least the mid-1980s (fig. 4). However,

it may be that the January 2004 presidential announcement

regarding a manned lunar base as a precursor to a manned

Mars mission—with an estimated cost of up to one trillion dollars—has galvanized public opinion regarding space exploration.

Society is feeling somewhat uncomfortable about the combination of nuclear and space technologies. Such recent failures

in NASA space programs as shuttle accidents and Mars missions that fail reinforce this discomfort. These failures call into

serious question the credibility of the scientific and policymaking elites and their ability to manage their programs safely.

In addition, those championing postmaterialist values have

seized upon the discomfort.

The Rise of Postmaterialist Values

Since the end of the Cold War in 1989, publics in prosperous, stable, and democratic industrial societies have become

more physically secure, the upset of 11 September 2001

notwithstanding.4 Their authoritarian reflex, or willingness to

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acquiesce to government control, has diminished. Such societies exhibit high levels of dissatisfaction with their political

systems and have less confidence in their political leaders and

public institutions. Intergenerational stability in the provision

of basic survival needs and comforts produces a postmaterialist

mind-set where prosperity is taken for granted and society begins to focus on such other aspects of life as the quality of their

and others political, social, and natural environments. Concern

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER

Figure 4. Public assessment of space exploration, 1985 to 2001.

(Reprinted from National Science Board, Science and Engineering Indictors,

2002, figure 7-12, http://www.nsf.gov/sbe/srs/seind02/c7/fig07-12.htm [accessed 11 Mar 2004].)

1985

1988

1990

1992

1995

1999

1997

2001

0 20 40 60 80 100

Percent

Benefits of space exploration outweigh costs

Benefits about equal to costs

Costs of space exploration outweigh benefits

Science & Engineering Indicators – 2002
about these becomes relatively more important, and because

postmaterialists tend to be educated, articulate, and wellread, they are able and willing to find mechanisms to steer

governmental decision makers toward their preferred ends.

The reality in US politics today is that the public is not less

politically active—as some would argue is evidenced through

persistently low voter turnouts—but rather more so. However,

the mechanism of choice now is often direct action, or political

activism.

Significant public protests challenged SNP directly against

NASA’s Cassini mission of 1997.5 Before that, NASA was challenged on the launch of the Galileo probe on the shuttle Atlantis

in 1989 and later on the Ulysses probe on the shuttle Discovery

in 1990.6 These missions were challenged both through public

activism and through the courts. The Wrong Stuff: The Space

Program’s Nuclear Threat to Our Planet, a monograph written

in 1997 by Karl Grossman, a professor of journalism at the

College of Old Westbury, State University of New York, best

encapsulates the basis of the public protest.7

The Rise of Individualism

The balance between emphasis on the individual versus emphasis on the community in Western societies has been moving toward the individual since the industrial revolution.8 This

trend has tended to disempower institutions in the broad, not

just political intuitions, and reached a nadir in the United

States in the 1960s with the youth revolutions. In 2003 many

of those same youth are now adult postmaterialists. In the

1960s the United States underwent a “Great Awakening” that

created a central paradox. Society directly challenged institutional authority while at the same time demanding that government deliver the social services desired and reflect a social

conscience. People seemed to want government to be everything

and nothing: service provider and social shaper, but without

intrusion into their lives or a high dollar cost. These conflicting demands have produced “a regime of activist government

and activist anti-government politics that they [the people] can

little understand, much less sense they are controlling.”9

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Underpinning the trend to individualism and activism, and

the ensuing public confusion they have created, is the most

widely accepted driver of human behavior in social science,

self-interest.10 Self-interest can be expressed in many dimensions, including those that appear altruistic such as environmentalism, but altruism in outcome should not be mistaken

for altruism in motivation.

The realpolitik effect of the rise of postmaterialist values and

individualism in the United States is that governing is harder.

Less authority is ceded to the government, as is less respect to

public institutions generally. Government policy often has to

be transacted directly with issues-based groups, which may or

may not represent the broader interest or hold the most balanced view, but must be accommodated to some degree. The

degree of accommodation awarded to any particular group by

the government is a political judgment, and perhaps more

often a factor of media than merit. 

Contested Ground

The nature of the political conflict around SNP is essentially

polarized, as conceptually depicted in figure 5. On one side are

the program proponents, which in the case of SNP are represented by government agencies. These include NASA, whose

interest is space science, and DOD, whose interest is terrestrial

security using space-based systems in a support role. These

principal proponents are supported by a small constellation of

special interest groups, both national and international, seeking to promote SNP for their own ends or interests. For example,

various man-to-Mars factions support NASA.11 For the opposition, the largest anti-SNP protest, that against Cassini, was

led by the FCPJ, with its own constellation of allied actors.12

With SNP, as with most issues brought into the public arena

by proponents and opponents, the bulk of the public is neutral unless activated. 

What both of the SNP polar groups want is political victory

such that their preferred outcome is achieved. If they are wise

and not totally desperate for their way, each will also seek a

victory via methods that do not destroy trust. This means that

in pursuing their ends, both sides would choose means that

27

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
are deemed socially effective and morally sustainable over the

long term. Otherwise, it is a case of “win the battle and lose

the war.”

To obtain their political victory, each side will seek to raise

the profile of their argument to mobilize Middle America to

their side (as conceptually depicted in figures 6 and 7), or at

the least have the other side fail to mobilize Middle America

against it. There is also a virtual aspect to any such engagement. Because each side will wage the public part of the battle

largely through the media, it may be that generating the illusion of public alignment, by generating media favorable to one

side’s case, is enough to tilt the political balance.

Historically, Middle America has been the contested ground

that program proponents and opponents have fought over. The

null or negative position for either group is to use an effective

public engagement strategy to keep the other side from activating and aligning at least part of Middle America to their

end. If you are the program proponent, you also will want to

keep your program in a favorable light with the political decision

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Figure 5. Societal level of interest in SNP: Illustrating neutral bias.

Level of Interest in SNP - Neutral Bias

Level of Interest

100

80

60

40

20

0

Program Proponents

Middle America

Program Opponents
Figure 6. Societal bias and activation sought by program proponents.

Level of Interest in SNP -

Bias Sought by Program Proponents

Level of Interest

100

80

60

40

20

0

Program Proponents

Middle America

Program Opponents

Figure 7. Societal bias and activation sought by program opponents.

Level of Interest in SNP -

Bias Sought by Program Opponents

Level of Interest

100

80

60

40

20

0

Program Proponents

Middle America

Program Opponents
makers. For SNP, the decision makers are Congress, the executive branch for program funding, and the president for a launch

of fissionable materials.

The positive and more difficult task of activating and aligning part of Middle America to one side’s ends requires domestic and, better still, international leverage. The logic from both

sides is that a victory—in either halting an opponent’s strategy

or strongly aligning at least part of the normally neutral stakeholders in society to a favorable view—is a powerful political

mechanism. Effectively, the victors will gain public avowal of

their position and a political following, or at least the absence

of a disavowal. In theory, that should leave the way clear for

Congress and the executive branch to weigh the political risks

of the program in their favor.

Political Will

The aim of SNP program proponents and opponents alike is

to convince the political decision maker to their end, or at least

to an acceptable compromise. But the government is not a

neutral stakeholder, and not always a supplicant subject to

the whim of whichever actor garners the most public support.

The government’s own will, beliefs, grass roots support, and

strategies regarding an issue are critical factors that shape the

strategies of both proponents and opponents if they are wise.

In pursing a particular policy or program in a democratic

system, the government can work from one of three premises:

• explicit permission to proceed enabled through successful

engagement with the public through shared process that

generates public trust in government;

• tacit permission to proceed, where permission is granted

because of a public perception of serious threat or vulnerability, so invoking the authoritarian reflex;13 or

• autocratic decision to proceed irrespective of any consensual public process, with a concomitant willingness to

accept the political consequences, as with Pres. John F.

Kennedy pronouncing that America would go to the Moon

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(1961), or Pres. George W. Bush pronouncing that America

would go to war with Iraq (2003).14

From the list presented, the mechanism chosen by government to affect a program is a question of political will and

judgment. The public perception of risk, relativity, and reward

shapes but not necessarily controls this choice.

It is fair to say that, given the nature of American postmaterialist society, unless there is an overwhelming and publicly understood imperative for a particular program, which is

not currently the case with SNP, obtaining explicit permission

from the public is generally the most effective course for program

proponents to pursue. This is because the public sees process

and policy fairness as important.15 That is particularly true for

programs that have long time frames covering several election

cycles, and where widely understood and supported outcomes of

social value would not exist without explicit, effective public engagement. Programs incorporating SNP are of this ilk.

International Treaty Restraints

Two international treaties and one export control protocol

have governed space policy for the last several decades. They

are the Outer Space Treaty (OST) of 1967, the Antiballistic

Missile (ABM) Treaty of 1972, and the Missile Technology Control Regime (MTCR) of 1987. Briefly, the OST states that international law applies beyond the atmosphere. The treaty reemphasizes that, in accordance with the 1947 United Nations

Charter, one sovereign state cannot threaten the territorial integrity or political independence of another. The OST initiated

new space-related agreements aimed at assuring free access

to space and celestial bodies. Additionally, it prohibits national appropriations of space or celestial bodies, and finally,

prohibits placing any weapons of mass destruction (WMD) in

space or on celestial bodies.16

The ABM treaty prohibited the development, testing, or deployment of space-based ABM systems or components. It limited

the United States and the Soviet Union to a single terrestrial

ABM site each with a maximum of one hundred missiles. It

also prohibited interference with the national technical means

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
(that are, in part, reconnaissance satellites) used to verify treaty

compliance.17 On 13 June 2002, the United States withdrew

from the ABM treaty citing national security concerns. This

freed the United States from the treaty prohibition against

testing or deploying weapons in space other than WMD.

The MTCR is an export control regime signed by the leading

space-faring nations. Its purpose is to prevent proliferation of

rocket technologies beyond a closed circle of countries already

possessing them.

For the purposes of this paper, the important consideration

is that international treaties of themselves are not obstacles to

a responsibly managed SNP program. The extension of conflict

into space and perhaps the weaponization of space are different

matters entirely, but those are not the subjects of this paper.

The Authoritarian Reflex

Despite the difficulty that current societal attitudes cause

those who would govern, the people will cede control to their

government, and tend to trust government more, when they

feel threatened. This behavior is the authoritarian reflex as illustrated in figure 8.

Figure 8 illustrates the high level of trust US citizens placed

in their government in the 1950s and 1960s. This trust was a

product of the social mores of the day and the level of threat

felt by society. The trust placed in government afforded it carte

blanche to develop nuclear technologies in the first two

decades of the Cold War. The figure also illustrates the emergent decline in trust in the early 1970s, which arose primarily

as a result of the Vietnam War and also because of the postmaterialist factors already discussed. What is interesting is

the spike in trust that followed al Qaeda’s attack on the

United States on 9/11, and its brevity. However, the spike

demonstrates that even today, people will cede more authority

to the government when they feel threatened. Thus, it highlights the possibility that a well-engineered and relatively safe

SNP-based program could gain public acceptance should the

security environment deteriorate in the future.

32

CADRE PAPER
The Imperative

The reality is that technology programs that are not tied to

specific—and agreed upon—mission goals become very vulnerable to budget cuts or even cancellation over time.

—Cong. Bart Gordon

—Ranking Democrat

—US Congressional Sub-committee

—on Space and Aeronautics, 2003

Within the United States, there are only two government

agencies capable of, and currently interested in, pursuing SNP

for contemporary and near future missions. They are NASA

and DOD in partnership with other national security agencies.

The first chapter presents the underlying technical reasons as

33

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER

Figure 8. Citizens who trust the United States federal government, 1958

to 2002. (Reprinted from David King and Zachary Karabell, The Generation

of Trust: How the United States Military Has Regained the Public’s Confidence Since Vietnam [Washington, D.C.: The American Enterprise Institute

Press, 2003], 2.)

100

80

60

40

20

0

% “Most of the Time” or “Just about Always”

1958

1964

1966

1968

1970

1972

1974

1976

1978

1980

1982

1984

1986

1988

1990

1992

1994

1996

1998

2000

2001

2002

73 76

65

62

53 53

36

33

29

25

33

44

38 40

28

29

20

33

40

44

64

45

Sources: 1958–2000: National Election Studies (2000); 2001: Washington Post Poll (2001); 

2002: (CNN/USA Today/Gallup Polls 2002a).
to why SNP is of interest for space missions. Three generic

missions linked to their stakeholders are candidates for SNP.

• Space and space-based science missions. In the United

States, space science is the domain of NASA, which is

supported by scientific advocates of SNP. These advocates

believe that nuclear power is the only practicable way to

develop a sustainable human presence in space and to

conduct space research where the Sun’s energy density

falls below the level at which solar power is viable or

where solar panels would be too large or heavy for launch.

• Space and space-based national security missions. In

the United States, space-based security missions are the

domain of US security agencies, supported by national security proponents who advocate a more active role in

space because they believe it enhances national security

capability with acceptable technical and policy risk. Some

also believe that acting quickly to seize the ultimate high

ground of Earth orbit to support terrestrial operations will

confer a “first mover” advantage outweighing the potential

disadvantages to national security and international stability making space an arena for direct action, rather than

the support environment it is currently. 

• Emergent missions. Emergent missions will be a product

of the first two mission types, making SNP de rigueur in

government-run space operations. From a proven base,

others may wish to move SNP technology laterally into

new applications. Commercial missions would benefit

from the technology, as would other nations to support

their own interests. Over time, commercial missions could

emerge parallel with the development of US national capabilities, but this is unlikely because the risk, cost, and

national control of nuclear technologies would require a

fundamental policy shift as to how nuclear materials are

controlled and who operates nuclear systems. Alternatively, and more likely, a demand for commercial operations could arise at an opportune time in the future. The

time frame for an emergent demand for commercial SNP

would be at least 15–25 years and as such is not for con34

CADRE PAPER
sideration in this paper. However, the issue of SNP proliferation by existing nuclear states could potentially emerge,

as could counterspace concerns, and these are germane.

Of the listed mission categories, the first two arise from US

space policy.

US Space Policy

Pres. William J. Clinton signed the most recent US National

Space Policy in 1996. National Security Presidential Directive/

NSPD–15, signed by Pres. George W. Bush on 28 June 2002,

calls for a review of this policy. Until such a review is complete,

the 1996 National Space Policy outlined by President Clinton

remains current. The Clinton era document essentially

“repackaged the same goals summarized in the National Space

Act of 1958 and updated them in the context of current commercial and military landscapes.”18 NSPD–15 stresses that

“access to and use of space is central for preserving peace and

protecting United States interests.”19 Though not citing specific

threats, the policy states that the United States will conduct

those space activities necessary to ensure national security,

which include “assuring that hostile forces cannot prevent our

own use of space” and “countering, if necessary, space systems

and services used for hostile purposes.”20 It goes on to state the

goals of the national space agenda, five of which are

• knowledge by exploration,

• maintenance of national security,

• enhancement of competitiveness and capabilities,

• private sector investment, and

• promotion of international competition.

DOD space policy focuses on operational capabilities that

enable the military services to fulfill the national security objectives. It enumerates three space-related tasks that guide

the military services: (1) deter or, if necessary, defend against

enemy attack; (2) enhance the operations of US and allied

forces by employing space systems; and (3) ensure that forces

35

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
of hostile nations cannot prevent US use of space. In 1998, the

secretary of defense’s 1998 annual report asserted that space

power had become vitally important to the nation for economic

as well as military reasons.

The world is increasingly transitioning to economies in which information is a major engine of prosperity. While United States national security interests focused in the past on assuring the availability of oil,

the future may require greater interest in protecting and accessing the

flow of information. As a result, the importance of space as a principal

avenue for the unimpeded flow of information throughout a global

market increases. DOD recognizes these strategic imperatives and will

assure free access to and use of space to support United States national security and economic interests.21

The report goes on to state that the United States should anticipate attacks against US and friendly allied space systems in

the future and declares that, “DOD must have capabilities to

deny an adversary’s use of space systems to support hostile

military forces.”22

The Air Force Space Command (AFSPC) has taken the above

policy and guidance and crafted a strategic master plan. Its vision statement declares that AFSPC will develop “[a] globally

integrated aerospace force [capable of] providing continuous deterrence and prompt engagement for America and its allies . . .

through control and exploitation of space and information.”

AFSPC capabilities will

enable a fully integrated Aerospace Force to rapidly engage military

forces worldwide. Our space forces will move beyond being primarily

force multipliers to also being direct force providers. Global real-time,

situational awareness will be provided to our combat commanders

through space based Navigation, Satellite Communications, Environmental Monitoring, Surveillance and Threat Warning, Command and

Control, and Information Operations systems. Robust and responsive

space-lift and improved satellite operations capabilities will provide ondemand space transportation on-demand space asset operations ensuring our ability to access and operate in space. Full spectrum dominance

in the space medium will be achieved through total space situational

awareness, protection of friendly space assets, prevention of unauthorized use of those assets, negation of adversarial use of space and a

fully capable National Missile Defense.23

36

CADRE PAPER
NASA and Space Science Missions

NASA has definite plans for space science missions that will

necessitate SNP.

• Project Prometheus. In 2003, NASA renamed what was

its Nuclear Systems Initiative as Project Prometheus. That

reflected the sensitivity NASA has been feeling with regard

to SNP and the new awareness within the agency regarding the importance of managing public risk perception

through effective engagement, especially with regard to

high-profile missions using nuclear power. Prometheus

has three components:24

— The Jupiter Icy Moon Orbiter has a planned launch

date of 2012. JIMO is a flagship mission that will pioneer

the use of a small nuclear-fission reactor for orbiter

electrical power and indirectly generated thrust. SNP

is the only current technology that will provide the power

density necessary for the JIMO mission. To mitigate

risk, current plans are that the reactor will not be activated until the orbiter has left the Earth’s gravity well

(about 1,000-kilometer low Earth orbit). Appendix B

provides a full description of the JIMO mission.

— Nuclear Power is an initiative designed to improve the

efficiency of current RTG technologies.

— Nuclear Propulsion includes the development of JIMO’s

nuclear reactor.

• Manned Lunar Base and Man-on-Mars. Pursuit of the

manned lunar base and subsequent trip to Mars announced by President Bush in 2004 will necessitate the

use of SNP in some form for technical reasons. Man will

not be able to get to Mars without the advantages of power

density and longevity offered by SNP over any foreseeable

alternative power source. Of note, no government agency

has mentioned the nuclear power aspect of the proposal,

probably due to the public sensitivity of the issue.

37

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
DOD and Others and Space-Based Security Missions

At the time of writing, DOD has no known plans on the table

to field a space-based system reliant on nuclear power. However, a 2001 Space Commission report, chaired by the current

secretary of defense, Donald Rumsfeld, calls for the United

States to maintain superior capability both in terrestrial operations supported from space and in space operations themselves.

We know from history that every medium—air, land and sea—has seen

conflict. Reality indicates that space will be no different. Given this virtual certainty, the United States must develop the means both to deter

and to defend against hostile acts in and from space. This will require

superior space capabilities. Thus far, the broad outline of United

States national space policy is sound, but the United States has not

yet taken the steps necessary to develop the needed capabilities and to

maintain and ensure continuing superiority.25

The report also emphasizes the necessity for superior US

space-based intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance,

and space control. While missions envisioned under these

drivers do not absolutely need SNP, any simple analysis

demonstrates that they would benefit by using nuclear power

because of its intrinsic advantages. Direct costs would fall,

and mission effectiveness would be enhanced by a small, light,

compact, long-lived system that provided both ample electrical

power and thrust for on-orbit maneuver. 

If DOD enters the SNP business, though, a major shift will

occur. Instead of the few, rare SNP system launches that NASA

would execute primarily for deep space missions, DOD missions

would necessitate that SNP operations become commonplace.

It is easy to envision constellations of nuclear-powered satellites in orbit. One candidate system would be advanced spacebased radar, or perhaps a system with a mix of active and passive hyperspectral sensors. Regular SNP operations in low Earth

orbit would add a new dimension to the public’s perception of

risk. They would also require a different imperative to establish an effective public engagement process about the political

feasibility of SNP before there is a need to increase the number

of operational SNP platforms. In addition, SNP systems in orbit

around the Earth will certainly be of concern to numerous

international stakeholders.

38

CADRE PAPER
Overall, it is fair to say that the only reason that DOD and

others have not in the recent past sought reactor-based SNP

systems is because of (1) the problematic political dimension,

(2) the lack of a truly compelling mission that could overcome

the political problem, and (3) the cost of developing such a system. However, if JIMO proceeds as planned, NASA will develop

a reactor-based SNP system, providing an opportunity for the

national security agencies to perhaps “hitch a ride” while allowing NASA to deal with the political issues under the guise of

space science. So the fight is NASA’s, unless there is an emergent security issue calling out for SNP that DOD is poised to

exploit. NASA needs to confront committed opposition and win

the public’s hearts and minds to support a space-based version

of those nuclear technologies they are wary of and uncomfortable with even in terrestrial applications. 

The Resistance

What is interesting about SNP opponents is that they are

not protesting the space operations per se, but rather the risk

they perceive to be inherent in a particular enabling technology,

SNP. In the case of Cassini, the 80 or so allied groups comprising the FCPJ have weighed the risk inherent in nuclear power

with the fragility of space operations and have decided that

• the public reward of SNP does not warrant the risk, the

reward being knowledge through space science in the case

of Cassini and its forebears; 

• NASA’s SNP program has a direct link to nuclear weapons

(a claim always denied by NASA and one that falls under

the heading of popular conspiracy theory rather than substantial fact); and

• the FCPJ was determined to do something about it.26

To forestall NASA, the FCPJ’s methods included public engagement, political activism, and formal legal action against

the Cassini launch. FCPJ also gained attention by focusing on

NASA’s risk assessment, in particular the Final Environmental

Impact Statement (FEIS). The FEIS is a necessary outcome of

the 1969 National Environmental Policy Act (NEPA). NEPA re39

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
quires that any major program conducted or authorized by

the federal government be subjected to an environmental impact assessment. FCPJ challenged NASA’s risk assessment

methodology and conclusions claiming that both were incorrect and incomplete.27

The FCPJ is a fairly typical activist group. It has a small

overhead with a full time staff of two in 1997 during its Stop

Cassini! campaign. It is comprised of individual and organizational members. Most members are middle to high income,

with the majority Christian, white, and college educated. Despite being able to attract up to 1,500 people to its protest rallies, and even with the legal action it took against NASA, the

FCPJ did not believe it could stop the Cassini launch. However,

according to its director, Bruce Gagnon, it could still provide

an important vehicle for expression for people who otherwise

felt powerless. Overall, the FCPJ is representative of a postmaterialist, issue-based group of concerned and responsible

citizens as described earlier in this chapter.28

Cassini and its predecessors were launched despite the FCPJ’s

best efforts, but NASA seems to be coming to the realization

that it is facing a capable and determined opposition whose

values-based message has appealed more to the public than

has NASA’s own logic-based message. Further, if the FCPJ

could enlist the support of more mainstream and universally

appealing activist groups as Greenpeace and the Sierra Club,

it is possible that NASA will lose a future fight for the hearts

and minds of Middle America, making it politically difficult or

impossible for the government to justify its future space plans

on a risk basis, let alone a cost basis. JIMO and Man-to-Mars

may be lost unless they are authorized through autocratic

presidential decree. Such a decree, if contrary to the wishes of

a hostile public, could come at high personal price to the

president, and may or may not be pursued depending on the

character of the administration of the day. 29 From DOD’s perspective on the sideline, public opinion galvanized against SNP

could cause the cancellation of Prometheus, with the subsequent

loss of access to NASA-developed space-rated fission-reactor

technology. That would make the space control advocates’

longer term ambitions politically infeasible due to (1) prohibi40

CADRE PAPER
tively high startup costs, (2) an erosion of the technical expertise necessary to develop SNP, or (3) the fact that SNP in

any form would not wash with the public. 

This analysis leads us to where the United States is today.

DOD is on the sidelines, perhaps waiting for a crisis of opportunity to obtain tacit public and hence political permission to

meet its long-term ambitions in space. NASA, at least in some

quarters, is seeking to improve its engagement with the public

such that they can mobilize public bias to their ends. Where

to next?

The Implications

Democracies of different sizes tend toward the traits presented in table 2.

41

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER

In smaller systems: In larger systems:

1. The members are more homogeneous diverse

2. Incentives to conform to a uniform code

of behavior are

stronger weaker

3. In relation to the numbers holding the

majority view in a conflict, the number

who openly dissent are

fewer greater

4. The likelihood that conflicts among

groups involve personal conflicts

among the individuals in each group is

higher lower

5. Conversely, conflicts among

organizations are

less frequent more frequent

6. Processes for dealing with organized

group conflicts are

less institutionalized more institutionalized

7. Group conflicts are infrequent but explosive frequent but less

explosive

8. Group conflicts are more likely to polarize

the whole community

less likely to polarize

the whole community

Table 2. Traits of Democracies

Source: Robert A. Dahl and Edward R.Tufte, Size and Democracy (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press,

1973), 92.

The issues of specific concern for SNP in the table are italicized. The United States as a large democracy aligns to the

traits of larger systems. Dissenters can usually find enough allies in a large democracy to reach a threshold where dissent is
effective, and that dissent can be persistent and overt.30 This

is the case for SNP, which points to the need to develop a public

engagement strategy that forestalls community polarization.

NASA’s logic-based arguments regarding SNP have not captured the public’s hearts and minds. Although NASA has not

had a launch stopped because of SNP activism, the swell of

negative public opinion and the guarantee that the next

launch will attract another debilitating legal challenge has

given NASA cause to reexamine its communication strategy. 31

NASA seems to be coming to the realization that if it wants to

capture Middle America as a foil to anti-SNP activism, public

communication will have to be done differently.

What NASA did in the past, and to some extent continues to

do, is frame SNP as a binary decision. A binary frame means

that the public debate is forced such that it is over before it

has begun, and the political decision makers are left to wonder how much political capital they will have to expend in support of the program, and whether that is warranted. The

choice has been simple: either SNP enables the mission or the

mission cannot be done. That SNP is needed for some missions is true, but framing the argument in these binary terms

gives the public no latitude in the debate and allows program

opponents to galvanize the public to only one possible position: NO. This from Professor Karl Grossman, author of The

Wrong Stuff, when asked what could justify the use of SNP:

“On the use of nuclear power in space, this may sound extreme but I don’t believe it ever should be used above our

heads—not in Earth orbit, not on deep space missions.”32 Of

course, as a leading activist, Grossman will never change his

mind. Nonetheless, leaving room to frame the problem in such

a way as to meet the value-based preferences of the target audience (Middle America) would be wise and will enhance the

political feasibility of SNP.

Some early offerings regarding Prometheus have been of the

binary ilk. For example, in 2003 Lockheed Martin’s vice president stated, “it is not whether we will discover new nuclear

space power systems—but whether we will explore space.”33

The issue is not the necessity of SNP itself, but the framing of

the technology.

42

CADRE PAPER
Going Forward

This chapter establishes the contested nature of the current

political environment and highlights the fact that contemporary society has withdrawn its carte blanche permission for

nuclear technologies. NASA will carry the public policy debate

for SNP forward, centered on JIMO, which is a compelling mission that requires the technology. DOD also has a strong case

for SNP arising from emergent security concerns. The authors

have stated that DOD should be establishing a mechanism to

leverage such an opportunity. The authors have presented the

case that NASA has not done well in convincing a leery public

of the risk, relativity, and reward of SNP—as evidenced by its

debilitating public debates with FCPJ thanks to an inadequate

and antiquated public engagement mechanism.

In the next chapter, “A Transscientific Political Engagement

Strategy,” the authors present an alternative to the polarized

binary public engagement framework NASA has been using.

The alternative framework is one where both sides agree to

seek a proposition based on shared values.34 This allows public concerns to be brought out early and included in policy

analysis and mission design. On the surface it might seem

that this values-focused approach is applicable only to NASA.

However, short of responding to an immediate national security

threat, the approach also has value for DOD as it considers

SNP for its own future space operations.

Notes

1. Joseph S. Nye, Philip D. Zelikow, and David C. King, eds., Why People

Don’t Trust Government (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press,

1997), 219–21.

2. The National Science Foundation has a large body of recent work

available on the Internet on this subject. See http://www.nsf.gov/sbe/srs/

seind02/intro/intro.htm.

3. National Science Board, Science and Engineering Indicators, 2002,

chapter 7, “Science and Technology: Public Attitudes and Public Understanding,” http://www.nsf.gov/sbe/srs/seind02/c7/c7h.htm (accessed 27

Jan 2004).

4. Nye, Why People Don’t Trust Government, 219–21, 271.

5. An excellent master’s thesis on the political and sociological aspects

surrounding Cassini is by Victoria Friedensen, “Protest Space: A Study of

43

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
Technological Choice, Perception of Risk, and Space Exploration” (master’s

thesis, Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, 11 Oct 1999).

6. Patricia M. Sterns and Leslie I. Tennen, “Regulation of Space Activities

and Trans-science: Public Perceptions and Policy Considerations,” Space

Policy 11, no. 3 (Aug 1995): 185.

7. Karl Grossman, The Wrong Stuff: The Space Program’s Nuclear Threat

to Our Planet (Monroe, Maine: Common Courage Press, 1997).

8. Nye, Why People Don’t Trust Government, 271–72.

9. Ibid., 272.

10. Ibid.

11. The only way to put a man on Mars is to use SNP. Other power systems are inadequate for the mission.

12. See Appendix C for the list of actors comprising the FCPJ during the

Stop Cassini! Campaign.

13. For example, the 9/11, terrorist attack.

14. There is one other mechanism for introducing a program, at least a

national security program, and that is to run it secretly. Such programs are

termed black, and the national security guise justifies their conduct in that

making the program public would fundamentally compromise it. This paper

does not discuss the black mechanism further, as it is outside the scope of

the paper.

15. Carlo C. Jaeger et al., Risk, Uncertainty and Rational Action (London:

Earthscan, 2001), 186.

16. Article XI and Article IX prohibit the weaponization or annexation of

celestial bodies. A copy of the treaty is at http://www.oosa.unvienna.org/

SpaceLaw/outersptxt.htm (accessed 25 Mar 2004).

17. The Federation of American Scientists (FAS) maintains a copy of the

treaty, source documents, chronology, and news regarding the ABM treaty

as part of their Weapons of Mass Destruction monitoring program, http://

www.fas.org/nuke/control/abmt/ (accessed 26 Mar 2004). 

18. US White House, Fact Sheet: National Space Policy, 19 Sept 1996,

http://www.ostp.gov/NSTC/html/fs/fs-5.html (accessed 26 Mar 2004).

19. Ibid.

20. Ibid.

21. US Department of Defense, Report of the Secretary of Defense to the

President and Congress, 1998, http://www.defenselink.mil/execsec/adr98/

chap8.html#top (accessed 26 Mar 2004).

22. Ibid.

23. US Air Force, Space Command, Strategic Master Plan for FY 04 and

Beyond, http://www.cdi.org/news/space-security/afspc-strategic-masterplan-04-beyond.pdf (accessed 26 Mar 2004).

24. Jeremy Hsu, Project Prometheus: A Paradigm Shift in Risk Communication, sciencepolicy.colorado.edu/gccs/2003/student_work/deliverables/

jeremy_hsu_project_prometheus.pdf (accessed 8 Mar 2004).

44

CADRE PAPER
25. US Department of Defense, Report of the Commission to Assess

United States National Security Space Management and Organization, 2001,

http://www.defenselink.mil/pubs/spaceintro.pdf (accessed 26 Mar 2004).

26. See Appendix C for a complete list of FCPJ members.

27. Friedensen, “Protest Space,” 49.

28. Ibid., 44.

29. Ibid., 7.

30. Robert A. Dahl and Edward R. Tufte, Size and Democracy (Stanford,

Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1973), 91.

31. We describe the legal challenge as debilitating because of the implications of program opponents timing it to this effect. Deep space science

missions have particular launch windows that in most cases only open every

few years. Therefore, a legal challenge to an SNP system launch only has to

delay the launch past the launch window to disable the program. Programmatics are such that few programs can survive a several year hiatus. The

implication is that the program opponents of SNP do not have to work to

cancel a program; a well-timed legal challenge near the launch window will

disable it, perhaps fatally.

32. Professor Karl Grossman to Wing Cdr Anthony Forestier, E-mail letter,

subject: Policy and Nuclear Power in Space, 9 Oct 2003.

33. US Senate, Committee on Commerce, Science and Transportation,

In-Space Propulsion Technologies, Testimony by Mr. James H. Crocker, VicePresident of Lockheed Martin, 3 June 2003. Quoted in Hsu, Project

Prometheus, 6.

34. Joseph L. Arvai, Tim L. McDaniels, and Robin S. Gregory, “Exploring

a Structured Decision Approach as a Means of Fostering Participatory Space

Policy Making at NASA,” Space Policy 18, no. 3 (Aug 2002): 221–31.

45

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
Chapter 4

A Transscientific Political 

Engagement Strategy

Science alone cannot establish the ends to which it is put.

—Francis Fukuyama

Achieving national goals in space will be extraordinarily arduous, both technically and politically, over the next few

decades. There are numerous technological challenges that

have inherent political dimensions. Some examples include

proactively fostering cooperation on the international space

station, ensuring the safety of flight personnel, and implementing technical performance plans as required by law. These activities take a significant toll on an agency’s time and resources.

Additionally, and perhaps most significantly, some programs,

such as SNP, pose transscientific public health and environmental risks that affect the unscientific public and create political problems that can make program planning and implementation as demanding and complex as the science that

originally enabled the project.

Responsibly implementing an SNP program will be a critical

test of both technological and political skill. Barring an unforeseen breakthrough in fuel cell or solar technology, SNP will almost certainly be desirable for many future missions, and in

JIMO’s case, it will be essential.

Because the power source is the enabling technology for the

conduct of all types of missions in space, planners must exercise special care when proposing SNP.1 A political fumble in

implementing SNP could effectively scuttle NASA’s long-term

plans for deep space exploration or manned expeditions beyond Earth’s orbit. This outcome could also affect any future

plans DOD might have for SNP. 

Clearly, DOD would have different intentions for SNP than

NASA and may be able to make a case for its necessity due to

47
foreseen or emergent national security imperatives. However,

DOD’s political challenges are similar to NASA’s. The underlying rationale for political permission is the only significant difference. Because SNP is a transscientific issue, an agency’s

engagement strategy must explain the technical risk as forthrightly as possible, meet the public interest politically, and

protect the intellectual integrity of the science from undue political influence.

The history of reactor-based SNP is one of starts and stops.

Without a publicly understood and politically compelling mission requirement, it is difficult to imagine any SNP program

getting very far in the modern political arena, unless the president chooses to accept the political risk of an autocratic decision. SNP has significant advantages and is a generally wellproven technology. However, the perceived risk of its use in

space exacerbates challenges faced by nuclear technologies.

The decision strategy must recognize this history, and an effective engagement strategy will serve to minimize the real and

perceived risks.

By using a values-focused decision strategy, one can construct a reasonable transscientific decision strategy that simultaneously respects the requirement for democratic legitimacy and scientific rigor in the policy-making process. The

work of Keeney on values-focused thinking combined with

current best professional practices in science and space policy

making contributed to this strategy.2 A values-focused decision strategy answers the political actors’ empirical concerns

using the best available scientific techniques and predictive

tools. The strategy then uses objective scientific facts in the

context of political judgments of risks and rewards to move

policy forward democratically.

To implement a values-focused decision strategy for SNP,

this chapter first outlines the classic three-dimensional policy

components of risk, relativity, and reward pertaining to SNP.

Next, the chapter examines these dimensions of the problem

using a five-step values-focused decision strategy. This valuesfocused decision strategy has the advantage of maintaining

scientific rigor where possible and yet retains the ability to ex48

CADRE PAPER
amine the potential effects of science through a political lens

where rigor is not possible.

The transscientific aspects of SNP make it impossible to objectively verify all of the stakeholders’ concerns about the risk,

reward, and relative merits of a particular policy option. However, researchers can craft a values-focused strategy using the

best available scientific techniques to inform a political decision regarding the stakeholders’ differing political values and

perspectives on risk, relativity, and reward.

The Dimensions of 

Space Nuclear Power Policy

Considering the political feasibility of SNP, an agency such

as NASA or DOD must face a three-dimensional transscientific

program feasibility space. The objective is to find a policy option that balances the risks and rewards of SNP-enabled missions with the relative merits of the alternative power sources.

Figure 9 graphically depicts the dimensions of the problem

by first considering the relative merits of SNP in comparison to

such policy alternatives as solar energy along the vertical axis.

The other two dimensions of policy analysis are measures of

the risks (second axis) and rewards (third axis) of the mission.

49

DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER

1. Relativity Axis

(Cost Benefit)

3. Reward Axis

2. Risk Axis

Low High

Acceptable Unacceptable Low High

Realm of

Transscientific Policy

Making

A program falling in

this area is politically

nonfeasible

Figure 9. SNP program feasibility space.
Relativity (Axis 1)

Near the origin of the model, the benefits of SNP relative to

the alternatives are low, the rewards are low, and risk is high.

This creates an area where SNP is politically infeasible if planners seek tacit or explicit public permission, as the authors have

argued. Moving away from the origin, the relative benefit of

SNP increases with respect to the alternatives. Likewise, the

other two axes depict increasing benefit and decreasing risk.

In this outer area, SNP may be a politically feasible policy option.

This three-dimensional model can be applied to any program that NASA or DOD might contemplate, and using this

model to reach a decision should be relatively straightforward.

However, the transscientific nature of SNP complicates this

process. The entire region of the feasibility space sits within a

transscientific context. Because of this, the decision process is

not one of simply determining the risk, relativity, and reward

through a typical cost-benefit analysis. The transscientific nature of the problem means that there are technical, social, and

political considerations that must be dealt with along all three

axes of the model. It also means that there is no sharp boundary between feasible and nonfeasible space. The reader must

apply these considerations to each axis.

The relativity axis measures the merit of each course of action. More specifically, it deals with the various power source

options that an organization might consider for space missions. From a current and near future technical perspective,

there are five discrete options when selecting a power source

for space missions:

• no launch and no mission accomplishment,

• solar power,

• fuel cell technology,

• RTGs, or

• fission-reactor SNP.3

Each of these five options has distinct advantages and limitations. Obviously, the decision not to launch is a null option

with no mission completed. This decision is particularly pro50

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found if it results because SNP was the only practical power

source for a given mission. The consequence of the null policy

option in this case is that it is a de facto political decision to

cease practicing the science that explicitly defines it as a

transscientific policy option.4

Where SNP is a viable option, its main advantages are high

power, independent of distance from the Sun, and long life.

The other three space power sources make technical tradeoffs

between available power levels and operational life, with solar

power restricted in operating range from the Sun. Cost is usually the driving factor when all other considerations are equal,

but technical parameters such as energy density will be more

important considerations for an interplanetary probe such as

JIMO, where high energy, low mass, and high reliability will be

required.

From a social perspective, the relativity involves tradeoffs

between SNP-enabled missions and other programs that merit

public support and consideration. For example, the primary

mission objective of JIMO is to advance the life sciences. Observations from NASA’s Galileo probe gave strong indications

that Jupiter’s moons (Callisto, Ganymede, and particularly

Europa) have oceans underneath a sheath of surface ice. Astronomers believe these oceans to have more saltwater than

the Earth and may have the prerequisites for the formation of

extraterrestrial life. Life forms that draw energy from numerous

different chemical processes on these moons could sidestep

the need for sunlight or photosynthesis, on which most terrestrial life relies. JIMO proposes to explore the moons robotically

for Jovian life forms and transmit the findings back to Earth.

Certainly, this mission would be an historic boon to science.

However, from the social perspective, launching JIMO must

present neither a real nor a perceived unacceptable level of

risk to the public. From a political perspective, the costs of

JIMO must be acceptable to a democratic society and consonant with other national priorities.

Risk (Axis 2)

The second axis of the model depicts the real and perceived

risk. From a technical perspective, this risk generally involves

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
an analysis of the probability of failure of the system and the

associated consequences of that failure. The transscientific

nature of the problem limits the quantification of technical

risk for SNP. Therefore, once technical risk analysis has been

completed, the issues will quickly become political as much or

more than they are technical. However, it is important to realize that the transscience aspects of the problem must eventually be reconciled with the rigorous requirements of science.

The fact that scientific knowledge is not value free will further complicate the issue. The social context of the researchers influences the issues.5 Even experts suffer from cognitive biases, and transscientific issues impose significant

limitations on risk assessments. Both technical and social

analyses have quantitative and qualitative aspects. Technical

risk analysis is not purely empirical, and the social is not as

normative an enterprise as many would have it seem. Unfortunately, a robust framework from which to assess the junction of technical and social perceptions of risk is not available.

Therefore, the transscientific nature of SNP makes the problem political more so than technical. Recognizing this fact will

be critical in the formulation of policy.

In any case from the perspective of the public policy maker,

risk is generally more than just a technical issue. Such other

considerations as public understanding of the science and analytical methodologies and the public’s risk tolerance play a

critical role in the policy debate. Contrasting the political cultures engaged in the controversies over SNP makes it clear that

political actors have great difficulty in understanding the fears

and objections of others.6 The process of discovery and intelligent risk mitigation through political action will be as intellectually challenging as the technical formulation of the options

that pure science originally provided. In the end, a political decision maker will also have to decide how much political capital

he is willing to risk to advance any program. In the case of SNP,

this decision lies with the president. The calculation will be

different for a NASA mission than for a national security

issue. However, once the level of risk has been determined,

the policy analysis is still not complete. The amount of risk

that is acceptable—technically, socially, and politically—must

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also relate to the potential reward the program or mission

might achieve.

Reward (Axis 3)

For NASA missions, the rewards generally center on basic

science and a better understanding of the universe. For DOD,

the rewards might include accomplishing a desired military

mission, adding new capabilities, or maintaining a significant

military advantage over potential adversaries. From a social

perspective, the public must be convinced that the rewards

are sufficient to merit support of the program. The reward

must have recognized social value. Any SNP-enabled system

or mission will be expensive. The public will not be willing to

commit the required resources if they perceive that the reward

is not sufficient to justify the cost.

The political acceptability of SNP for military missions will

also depend upon SNP being separate from space weaponization issues. Current policy is that outer space will not be

weaponized, and the United States has long-standing treaty

obligations prohibiting weapons in space. Nevertheless, opponents of DOD argue that SNP is a prelude to the weaponization of space, and it is a fact that SNP is a potent enabling

technology. The concerned public may also associate SNP with

space weaponization. Therefore, the political feasibility of SNP

depends upon severing any perceived linkages with space

weaponization. Unlinking weaponization and SNP politically is

perhaps the most important factor regarding public perception

of SNP. Not including space weapons, some of the potential

rewards of SNP are listed below:

• JIMO mission to the moons of Jupiter to search for life;

• space-based, SNP-enabled hyperspectral sensors to track

terrorist and WMD proliferation threats (a hybrid ISR mission);

• space-based, SNP-enabled high-bandwidth communications for both military and civilian use; and

• emergent uses not currently envisioned.

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
Working in the three-dimensional realm of relativity, risk,

and reward is a necessary but not sufficient condition for program decisions involving SNP. One has only to look to the history

of failed SNP programs. For SNP to have any hope of success,

it will first need to have a compelling mission requirement. The

program will also have to navigate the murky waters of transscience and deal with a skeptical public. Going forward with the

above model will require an effective engagement strategy, one

that goes far beyond informing the public about mission plans.

In the landscape of strategy options, one methodology appears to hold significant promise. The methodology suggested

here is the values-focused decision strategy introduced earlier.

Essentially, the values-focused decision strategy seeks a

reasoned stakeholder consensus, which starts by recognizing

the interested public as a valid stakeholder in the SNP debate,

not just a passive victim of policy. Increasingly, the public will

not accept being policy victims to big science. The overall aim

of such an engagement strategy should be to bring to light

such agreed ends as specifically enunciated and agreed goals

of recognized public value from space science or national security with means, and estimates of the likely and tolerable

risks surrounding those means, negotiated as part of the

process. This may be unpalatable by conservatives in the policymaking fraternity, but the overall result should be ongoing

program viability if such an engagement strategy is professionally pursued.

From the perspective of DOD, it might appear that there is

little need or merit in pursuing a values-focused decision

strategy. Clearly in the case of a national emergency or significant perceived threat, DOD can rely on the authoritarian reflex to gain permission to pursue SNP-enabled missions. As

discussed in the previous chapter, an opportunity for this existed in the aftermath of 9/11. However, it is more likely that

DOD will have to take a more measured approach to the development of programs using SNP. Furthermore, this process

will necessarily occur over several presidential administrations, perhaps as many as five, so sustained support for the

program will be necessary. Whether the general public will be

involved in the values-focused process for national security

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systems is not clear. However, the Congress, acting on behalf

of their constituents, certainly will be.

It seems clear, then, that both NASA and DOD could benefit

from an engagement strategy that considers all stakeholders.

In fact, NASA will have to pursue such a strategy all the time

if it is to have any hope of achieving success with programs

such as JIMO. DOD would be wise to employ an ongoing engagement strategy as well. First, the time horizon for development of SNP-enabled systems is quite long, perhaps 10–20 years.

It is doubtful that permission resulting from a crisis situation

can be sustained over that length of time. In addition, the benefits of a sustained engagement strategy would be enhanced

should a national security imperative arise from a crisis. While

the values-focused decision strategy is only one approach, experiments using this process indicate that it improves the

chances of program success. The following section describes

how the strategy applies to SNP.

A Values-Focused Decision Strategy for 

Space Nuclear Power

Values-focused decision strategies focus on how policy options are created and nuanced by the stakeholders, in contrast to the more common analytical techniques of dispute

resolution.7 This difference is important when working in

transscientific endeavors such as SNP, where scientific techniques and analytical methods lack the political permissions

necessary to empirically evaluate the policy alternatives. In

fact, one advantage of a values-focused decision strategy is

that it has the potential to minimize the most debilitating aspects of a transscience problem.

A values-focused decision strategy has five steps.8 These are

listed below and discussed in more detail in the succeeding

sections.

• Carefully define the decision to be made.

• Identify what matters in the context of an impending decision in the form of the stakeholders’ objectives.

• Create a set of appealing and purposeful alternatives.

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
• Employ the best available technical information to characterize the consequences of the alternatives, including

the uncertainty associated with them.

• Conduct an in-depth evaluation of the alternatives by addressing the tradeoffs they entail.

Stakeholders play a major role in the formulation of valuesfocused decisions, and who these stakeholders are will depend

on the mission. As discussed in the previous chapter, the primary kinds of missions for SNP involve space science, presumably under the direction of NASA; national security, under

the purview of DOD; and possibly commercial applications,

which could include a large number of international actors.

Table 3 shows some of the stakeholders that are likely to be

involved in the decision process for various missions. 

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Potential Stakeholder

NASA

Scientific

Missions

DOD 

Missions

Civilian 

Communications

Missions

NASA ✘

Department of Energy ✘ ✘ ✘

DOD ✘ ✘

Congress ✘ ✘ ✘

National Reconnaissance Office ✘

NSA ✘

NOAA ✘

Federation of American Scientists ✘ ✘ ✘

UN ✘ ✘

“In-Community” International Actors ✘ ✘ ✘

Environmental Groups, e.g., 

Nukewatch or FCPJ ✘ ✘ ✘

Table 3. Potential Stakeholders in a Values-Focused Decision Strategy

This table is not absolute or exhaustive. For any given program, the stakeholders may change, and some that might

otherwise not be included may come into play. However, identifying a viable set of stakeholders will be critical to the decision strategy.
One of the more important aspects of the values-focused decision strategy is that it is, and is publicly perceived to be, participatory and democratic. Therefore, the process helps provide

insights for the public into the reasoning behind transscientific

policy decisions. It also creates a transparent process for all

stakeholders and builds communication channels back to the

public. As well, the strategy allows the stakeholders to gain insight to public concerns, and so develop responses to remedy

difficulties.

Experience has demonstrated that a values-focused decision strategy can work. Participants in trials with Cassini as a

test case expressed higher overall support for and satisfaction

with Cassini than did those who worked under an expertdriven regime.9 Done well, a values-focused decision strategy

should explicitly address public concerns about permission,

trust, liability, and risk.

Step 1. Defining the Decision

To define the decision, the proposing agency first must establish the mission requirements and the technological facts.

Once the empirical data are on the table, the stakeholders

compare the relative costs and risks of each feasible course of

action. In this case, three major types of space missions that

may seek to use nuclear power sources are military, scientific,

or commercial. As described earlier, there are only five space

power alternatives for these missions, and the analysis of the

objective costs and technical feasibility of each option is

straightforward.

SNP provides high power levels for long periods of time. All

of the other power sources make significant technical trade-offs

between available power and operational life. Given these scientific facts, the question is not whether we should use SNP,

but rather how to balance mission capabilities, risks, and political rewards. There may well be a time in the future when

SNP can be an alternative to solar or chemical energy. In the

current political environment, SNP should be reserved for the

missions that truly warrant the tradeoffs required and missions

that cannot be deferred after considering the risks and rewards.

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
Step 2. Identify What Matters to the Stakeholders: 

Feasibility and Risk

The second step in the values-focused decision strategy is to

identify what matters to stakeholders. This step-by-step approach helps to maintain the distinction between empirical

facts and the interpretation of data. Values-focused decision

strategies facilitate policy making by respecting legitimate differences in scientific and political judgment. By focusing on

value judgments in this step, the strategy helps stakeholders

to articulate their political objectives instead of becoming mired

in the far more contentious activity of interpreting scientific

data. Clearly stating the political objectives is a vital part of the

strategy because politics, not science, defines specifically where

the significant differences are and ultimately what matters in

the debate.

Perhaps this appears as an intellectual defect from a scientific perspective, but political limitations born from the positions of the stakeholders turn out to be crucial to the development of public policy options that science cannot fully inform.

By focusing attention on the political aspects of the problem

as opposed to purely scientific aspects, the stakeholders can

investigate implications of policy in crucial areas and in detail

that would otherwise be impracticable for the scientific community to pursue alone. This is extraordinarily important, because transscientific policy is the articulation of the political

acceptability of risks versus the perceived benefits of the policy

options that science provides but cannot verify.

The proposing agency will consider SNP as a policy option

when it appears to be the only technologically feasible way to

accomplish the mission. Although the costs and technical feasibility are generally straightforward in the first step of this

strategy, the risks and potential consequences of choosing a

particular course of action are open to interpretation and

value judgments by the stakeholders. Therefore, the interpretation of science informs the various risk and benefit assessments in transscience.

Considering the Cassini program as an example, proponents

came from a small cross section of society. They tended to be

highly logical technocrats imbued with enthusiasm for the ro58

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mance of space exploration. That enthusiasm can be compelling, depending on the audience, and it colors the debate.

The transcripts of public engagements between NASA and

Cassini protestors indicate that the NASA representatives

tended to push the scientific logic and analysis of their position, with the romance of space exploration serving to underpin their argument. On the other side of the debate, the FCPJ

presented counterarguments to appeal to the fears of the public

with regard to technology and to emphasize the absolute worst

possible negative consequences extrapolated from scientific

data. The opposing parties often talked past one another, and

rarely did the different positions intersect such that they could

initiate a negotiation. 

The FCPJ and NASA were in a polarized and adversarial political battle in 1997 with little or no room for compromise or

useful discussion of trade-offs. Yet, transscientific issues, especially when the science involves fissile materials, require a

thoughtful understanding of the consequences that science

informs but does not verify. To create dialogue between the

stakeholders, the values-focused decision strategy could identify the key issues and potential area of compromise.

In a social experiment conducted by Arvai, researchers evaluated the differences between a values-focused decision strategy

and expert-driven decision processes.10 Arvai’s study found

that a values-focused strategy increased acceptance of a policy

decision—either positive or negative—regarding RTGs on

Cassini by roughly 25 percent for both men and women.11 In

the experiment, stakeholders subjectively evaluated overall acceptance on a seven-point scale. Approval rating increased

from an average of 3.8 to 5.1 for women and 4.1 to 5.3 for

men. The sample sizes indicated results were statistically significant to the 0.01 probability level for both men and women

whether they were considering the risks or rewards of RTGs

on Cassini. In the same study, the values-focused decision

strategy improved the policy process without causing politics

to interfere with the underlying science. The openness and

democratic legitimacy of the values-focused strategy permitted

the stakeholders to respect differing interpretations of science

and therefore accept different policy outcomes.

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Another example of a significant issue is the linkage between SNP and the weaponization of space. Although NASA

generally makes a strong case against this linkage, they still

must deal with it. And, there can be little doubt that the linkage to weaponization will immediately be made for any DOD

system that proposes to use SNP. How program proponents

address this issue with the relevant stakeholders will have a

major impact on the success of the policy process.

Step 3. Create Appealing and Purposeful Alternatives

The third step in the values-focused decision strategy is to

create appealing and purposeful alternatives. In considering

space power alternatives, the technical limitations are quite

clear. Nuclear power sources (both RTG and fission) require

special consideration because they have political considerations that solar and chemical technologies do not. The overall

political acceptability must balance the mission benefits with

a technical risk assessment of alternative power sources.

Agencies such as DOD may soon be proposing nuclear

power to support national security objectives. SNP is particularly attractive to DOD because the department already uses

both nuclear and space technology and has resident expertise.

Therefore, the costs of entry are considerably lower for DOD

than for other government agencies. DOD also might tend to

prefer nuclear power sources because they have a much

higher energy density than the alternatives and are considerably more reliable. Here is a short list of the missions that

DOD may propose that may or may not require SNP.

Military missions that may require nuclear power:

• space-focused radar,

• laser communications,

• electric or ionic propulsion,

• space-based data processing,

• midcourse discrimination,

• advanced meteorology,

• battlefield illumination, and 

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• directed energy station keeping.

Military missions not likely to require nuclear power: 

• GPS or navigation,

• continuous optical or UV reconnaissance,

• space weather,

• meteorology, and

• communications.

Planners generally cannot scale military space missions up

or down to move from one power option to another. For example,

space-based radar sensors require a continuous power source

of greater than 100 kWe to provide space sensors with the

ability to generate sufficient radiant energy to map the Earth’s

surface as well as to transmit data with the reliability required

under wartime conditions. Therefore, with currently available

technologies, space-based ground-mapping radar will require

SNP, and such alternatives as fuel cells or solar energy will not

suffice for mission requirements. Nevertheless, DOD’s opponents contend that missions might be accomplished without

space resources. This results in choosing the option of not

launching rather than risking a military mission with fissile

material in orbit.

This may seem like a dilemma where appealing alternatives

are not available to either camp. However, it may be possible

to reduce the power requirements in space to make solar or

fuel cell technology more attractive and then augment the

space mission with airborne assets such as the Air Force’s

Joint Stars or the U-2. The values-focused decision strategy

encourages the stakeholders to examine these options in depth.

For scientific exploration of space, it is possible to scale required power levels up or down to a much greater extent than

with military missions. The inflexible aspect of scientific mission requirements is usually flight time. For example, devices

requiring low levels of power will suffice for interplanetary explorations. However, an interplanetary expedition is necessarily

a long-duration operation and will require a highly reliable

power source that can function for months or even years.

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Therefore, scientific missions tend to prefer one of three power

options. Solar power is long lasting but limited by low solar

flux beyond Earth orbit. Also, solar panels are large and quite

fragile, which diminishes their reliability and puts the mission

at risk. This risk is important when considering the costs of

space expeditions and the national prestige that may be on the

line in the event of mission failure.

RTGs are also limited in the amount of power they can provide. However, they are extraordinarily reliable and can function continuously for as long as 70 years without maintenance.

This has made RTGs the preferred power source for deep

space exploration thus far, despite the fact that there was considerable political opposition to launching RTGs containing

Plutonium 238 on the Cassini mission in 1997.

When SNP is considered for scientific space missions, it

must be considered only for the few missions that require considerable power for long periods of time. SNP will also be necessary when long-duration power is required and solar panels

are not sufficiently reliable for the mission. The scientific missions that may meet those requirements are listed below. 

Potential scientific endeavors requiring nuclear power:

• deep-space missions,

• interplanetary robotic exploration,

• extended human lunar missions,

• human exploration of Mars,

• propulsion, and

• advanced meteorology.

The potential commercial applications of SNP are currently

limited to hypothetical scenarios only. Due to the transscientific nature of SNP, it is highly unlikely that commercial interests would be the first to use nuclear technologies in space. It

is more likely that commercial ventures would piggyback on a

military or scientific enterprise. Only after SNP has passed

from the transscience arena into the realm of routine public

policy will we see space nuclear reactors dedicated to com62

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mercial enterprises. Some of those future enterprises are

listed here.

Potential commercial endeavors potentially requiring nuclear power:

• space-based manufacturing,

• laser communications,

• high-power and broadband communications, and 

• directed energy power transmission.

The potential rewards of SNP used for commercial purposes

are primarily financial; however, it would be extraordinarily

difficult to justify public risks for the sake of private investment interests in the present political environment. Perhaps

commercial uses of SNP will be justifiable sometime in the future

after the risks have been mitigated by previous experimentation and SNP has moved beyond the realm of transscientific

policy making. In the interim, commercial use of SNP will

likely be limited to joint enterprises with the military or scientific communities.

When stakeholders perceive the technical options are exhausted, they will undertake more normative work to politically reformulate the policy options in terms more favorable to

their biases and interests. Stakeholders must attempt to resolve residual ambiguities concerning risks and reward to

reach an acceptable consensus. The stakeholders refine consequence descriptions and perform political risk analysis of

problems to which scientific technique had previously only

drawn attention. 

Step 4. Employ Best Available Technical Information to

Characterize Consequences and Uncertainties

By articulating what matters and working together to create

appealing alternatives, the stakeholders tend to focus on and

attempt to increase the accuracy and scope of science that

they interpret to be particularly revealing of either the political

risks or the benefits of a proposed program depending upon

their preferred policy option. The stakeholders focus on scientific facts that compare directly with political predictions from

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
their preferred policy options. Stakeholders such as Nukewatch,

the Federation of American Scientists, or the FCPJ are willing

to invest great effort and ingenuity to bring science and their

preferred policy options into closer empirical agreement.

Ultimately, when the stakeholders’ analysis and interpretation of science cannot serve their particular interests, the

stakeholders must endeavor to discover revealing new facts or

else adjust their interests and begin to accept some compromise. Even so, some established stakeholders acting as social

risk amplifiers occasionally refuse to consider new scientific

analysis and show little tolerance for those who do.12 For example, Nukewatch activist Bruce Gagnon has protested that

scientific exploration missions to the Mars area are “dangerous step in the expansion of nuclear technology into space”

because the spacecraft uses RTGs.13 Mr. Gagnon insists that

these missions are dual use with the military, despite the fact

that there is no conceivable military mission beyond Earth

orbit, and the RTGs used are 30-year-old technology with no

applicability to weapons development. 

Nevertheless, science can eventually extend the stakeholders’

experience base to facts that will be particularly persuasive.

This step in the decision strategy is an effort to move policy

goals forward using the scientific tools that are available, including the untested, incomplete, and unverifiable hypotheses

that normal science can provide without incurring unacceptable political risks. According to Steven Aftergood of the Project on Government Secrecy within the Federation of American

Scientists:

There are those in the broad general public who aren’t concerned

about safety. There are others who can’t be convinced that space nuclear power and propulsion are sufficiently safe. But for everyone else,

a program that is open, accountable, and responsive to public inquiries is most likely to be acceptable. As a practical matter, this

means acknowledging that space nuclear power, like spaceflight in

general, is not “safe” in any absolute sense. The issue rather, is the

value of the mission as well as the adequacy of the steps that are taken

to minimize potential hazards.14

This dialogue is beneficial to both scientific interests and the

political debate. If risks and consequences are characterized

with intellectual integrity, then this grounds the political de64

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bate with sound scientific judgment and analysis. The political

context likewise proscribes ethical scientists from performing

experimentation or research that may cause unacceptable

public risks and should have political oversight. At this juncture the policy maker simultaneously has useful political and

scientific leverage on the problem. This dual leverage is necessary for transscientific policy to advance science and minimize

public risks. The transparency of the process results in a more

open-ended policy formulation model that respects the democratic process.

Step 5. In-depth Evaluation of Alternatives Addressing

Tradeoffs

The process of discovery and intelligent risk mitigation

through political action can often be as intellectually challenging as the original technical formulation of the options

that pure science originally provided. The previous steps of the

values-focused decision strategy require reasonable effort to

call forth new data and political options. The art of policy

process addresses the concerns of both sides of the political

debate in a scientifically sound way.

At this final step in the decision strategy, the options are

evaluated based on their political merit as informed by the scientific judgments carefully formulated in the previous steps.

The JIMO mission provides an example. The expedition will

need nuclear power unless there are extraordinary advances

in solar or chemical energy sources, and the authors do not

foresee such advances. Waiting for them could be a matter of

decades. If JIMO is to proceed, even by 2012, it must utilize

SNP. Therefore, the principal public risk with JIMO involves

getting fissile material into orbit safely.

In this step of the values-focused decision strategy, the

stakeholders evaluate the alternatives using best professional

practices and scientific techniques. Although judgments will

vary, stakeholders specify the alternatives in scope and detail

that would not be possible otherwise. Where differences in

judgment exist, those judgments are specific and based upon

common entering arguments for scientific evaluation. Valuesfocused strategies considering stakeholders create options and

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permit policy decisions to be accepted by the stakeholders as

compared to more didactic methods of dispute resolution.15

This is important when working in such transscientific endeavors as SNP, where scientific techniques and analytical

methods lack the political permissions necessary to evaluate

the policy alternatives scientifically.

How to Know if the Process is Working

One fundamental question about the process remains: How

will one know that the values-focused engagement strategy is

working? Determining measures of effectiveness is an important challenge, but it is necessary to ensure that the strategy

is meeting objectives. Because of the transscientific nature of

the problem, purely empirical measures are necessary but not

sufficient to judge how effective the strategy is in attaining its

goals. Therefore, subjective evaluations must supplement empirical measures of merit. Examples are

• assessment of proponents’ and opponents’ political will,

• opportunity costs of not accomplishing a scientific mission,

• additional risk to national security of not accomplishing a

military mission, and

• potential environmental damage from launch failure.

These measures of effectiveness will factor into the policy

makers’ advice to the political decision makers regarding SNP.

Although there is a great deal of technical information that can

be quantitatively determined, the qualitative assessments of the

risks and rewards are the politically contentious issues. Because

the risks and rewards cannot be determined precisely or strictly

quantified, the interpretation of science by the stakeholders

should explain the concerns and why they matter politically.

Operationalizing a Values-Focused Decision Strategy

The United States will soon be at a decision point concerning SNP. The fact that a nuclear technology in space is a transscientific issue complicates the balance between SNP’s promise

and the public’s concern about public risk. Policy makers can66

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not ignore the scientific uncertainty of the consequences of a

nuclear payload breaking up in the Earth’s atmosphere. Technical experts may argue over the ramifications of an accident,

and program opponents and proponents may use their own

interpretations of science to further their policy goals. In the

meantime, the public in the middle remains quietly confused

and certainly uncomfortable with the consequences program

opponents describe. The transscientific doubt about the SNP

places Congress and the executive branch in the difficult position of making a decision about SNP programs without a complete understanding of either the risks or the consequences. 

Because transscientific decisions are ultimately a matter of

political judgment, the risks of SNP should be considered

along with reward and relativity. These three policy dimensions are the foundation upon which a values-focused decision strategy aids policy formulation. Ultimately, the goal of a

values-focused decision strategy is to manage the transscientific uncertainties while protecting the intellectual integrity of

the underlying science that originally generated the policy option. A values-focused decision strategy outlines a democratically legitimate and scientifically sound rigorous method to assist policy makers in considering SNP as a transscientific

policy problem. Given the high stakes surrounding SNP, an effective engagement strategy is critical to the success of any future SNP-enabled missions.

Notes

1. Victoria Friedensen, “Protest Space: A Study of Technological, Choice,

Perception of Risk, and Space Exploration” (master’s thesis, Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, 11 Oct 1999).

2. R. L. Keeney, Values-Focused Thinking: A Path to Creative Decision

Making (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1992). 

3. American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics (AIAA), Aerospace

Power Systems Technical Committee. “Space Nuclear Power: Key to Outer

Solar System Exploration,” an AIAA position paper, Reston, Va.: AIAA, 1995.

4. Thomas S. Kuhn, The Structure of Scientific Revolutions (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1962), 151.

5. Sheldon Krimsky and Dominic Golding, Social Theories of Risk (Westport, Conn.: Praeger, 1992), 356.

6. Carlo C. Jaeger et al., Risk, Uncertainty and Rational Action (London:

Earthscan, 2001), 186.

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
7. Gerald W. Cormick and Alana Knaster, “Oil and Fishing Industries Negotiate: Mediation and Scientific Issues,” Environment 28, no. 10 (Dec 1986):

6–16.

8. Joseph L. Arvai, Tim L. McDaniels, and Robin S. Gregory, “Exploring

a Structured Decision Approach as a Means of Fostering Participatory Space

Policy Making at NASA,” Space Policy 18, no. 3 (Aug 2002): 221–31.

9. Jeremy Hsu, Project Prometheus: A Paradigm Shift in Risk Communication,

sciencepolicy.colorado.edu/gccs/2003/student_work/deliverables/jeremy_

hsu_project_prometheus.pdf (accessed 8 Mar 2004), 8.

10. Arvai, “Exploring a Structured Decision Approach.”

11. For more specific statistical data see ibid., 228.

12. As an example, see the following court case where the plaintiff repeatedly tries to suppress environmental impact statements revised specifically to answer the plaintiff’s original scientific objections. Florida Coalition

for Peace and Justice v. George Herbert Walker Bush, in Lexis, vol. 12003.

13. David Leonard, “NASA’s Nuclear Prometheus Project Viewed as Major

Paradigm Shift,” http://www.space.com/businesstechnology/technology/

nuclear_power_030117.html (accessed 26 Mar 2004).

14. Ibid. 

15. Cormick, “Oil and Fishing Industries Negotiate,” 6–16.

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Chapter 5

Conclusions

I began by trying to quantify technical risks, thinking that if

they were “put into perspective” through comparison with

familiar risks, we could better judge their social acceptability.

I am ashamed now of my naiveté, although I have the excuse that this was more than twenty years ago, while some

people are still doing it today. 

—Harry Otway, PhD, 1992

Nuclear technologies were the first instance of a scientific

problem that entered the political realm as transscience. If

mishandled, the negative consequences of nuclear experimentation would have been momentous, if not catastrophic. A

public increasingly aware of the risk has slowly withdrawn political permission for conducting most nuclear science. Since

the Three Mile Island nuclear accident in 1979, the United

States has not built nor ordered any new nuclear power plants.

The issues of waste disposal continue to be contentious. Like

most things nuclear, space exploration has significant risk

that complicates the political problems of SNP. Therefore, we

believe that the most certain way to cultivate the unscientific

public’s trust is to simultaneously improve the underlying nuclear and space technologies while engaging the public politically in an open and democratically transparent way.

The authors also believe scientific technique will eventually

be able to fully inform SNP policy. Presently, however, scientific techniques and analytical methods lack the political permission necessary to properly evaluate the risk and reward of

SNP as an alternative source of power in space. In the meantime, the authors believe that a public policy decision that involves SNP should be made with a values-focused decision

strategy that informs the political dimensions of risk, relativity,

and reward.

69
This paper addressed the question, “What mechanism

would improve the political feasibility of a nuclear power program for US space operations?” The authors’ inquiries have

highlighted the fact that the answer is contextual and falls

squarely in the realm of political judgment as opposed to scientific analysis. Moreover, the difficulties of making these political judgments are intrinsic to the transscientific nature of

SNP. Policy makers have incomplete empirical or analytic data

to draw from when making decisions. The interpretation of

available data can vary widely from one set of experts to the

next, clouding judgment about social value and political risk

in choosing whether to implement such a transscientific program as SNP.

Unlike pure science, transscientific policy must harmonize

the rigors of scientific judgment with the imperatives of politics.

Empirical analysis is a necessary but not a sufficient tool for

solving transscientific policy problems. That conclusion and

the fact that some stakeholders have not assimilated it have

caused significant problems in engaging the public with respect

to SNP. There is a resulting discomfort about SNP, even in politically moderate circles, because of the dearth of empirically

verifiable data regarding the political risks and rewards. Although the rewards of SNP are potentially profound, they are

sacrificed because of publicly perceived but unverifiable risk.

Although SNP is technically feasible, it is not currently politically acceptable to the public because of the perceived risk.

The present situation contrasts sharply with the 1950s, when

SNP enjoyed tacit public support and was even touted in the

popular press. This change seems to be because the unscientific public has become increasingly aware of partisan risk assessments presented by political activists opposed to all forms

of nuclear power, including SNP. However, the public is still

largely unaware of the transscientific uncertainties regarding

the assessment of both risk and reward.

Organizations such as the FCPJ or Nukewatch have made

the maximum plausible assertions regarding the possible risk,

while NASA and/or DOD have made minimum plausible assertions about this same risk. These boundary positions have

done little to advance either science or reasoned political dis70

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course. Neither group can be sure of its position with respect

to SNP because of the transscientific doubt surrounding the

risk and potential consequences of an accident on the launch

pad or in Earth’s atmosphere.

The issues surrounding transscientific risk assessment for

SNP are extraordinarily complex and multifaceted. Therefore,

an engagement strategy is required that is democratically legitimate and transparent. A strategy must take the issue to

the people, or at least to their representatives. A decision

strategy that addresses such difficult scientific issues must

also protect the intellectual integrity of science from undue political influence.

To assist in addressing stakeholder concerns, the authors

have presented a model that policy makers considering SNP

can use to ensure they have thoroughly evaluated the positions of the various stakeholders while simultaneously respecting the rigorous requirements of sound scientific judgment. The authors’ first recommendation is that potential risk

should be considered along with reward and relativity, much

as with any other political issue. However, in the case of SNP,

these three considerations exist within a transscientific context. The transscientific nature of the problem implies that

sound scientific analysis is a necessary but not a sufficient

prerequisite to achieving a politically acceptable solution. The

political interpretation of scientific data and value judgments

will determine whether SNP is feasible or not.

NASA has been carrying the torch for SNP and will continue

to do so until DOD establishes a definite and politically acceptable mission imperative. Therefore, NASA’s engagement

strategy must establish the initial issues around SNP and

space science that are germane. The DOD should learn from

NASA’s experience, even if society’s national security permissions arise from different concerns than do those of space science. Although the mission objectives would be different, the

political dimensions of risk, relativity, and reward, shrouded

by transscience, would be the same for both agencies. We also

believe that DOD should consider an ongoing program that

would at least maintain the state of the art in SNP technology,

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
as well as explore mission scenarios where SNP might be desirable or necessary.

There are several reasons for doing this, but at least three

stand out. First, the knowledge base for developing SNP is rapidly aging. The last major program to be considered was terminated in 1993 and many of the scientists in the field have

either retired or moved on to other things. Second, it is likely

that future DOD space operations will require high power, the

kind that only nuclear reactors appear to be able to provide.

Given the long lead-time to develop such systems, an ongoing

program makes sense. Third, SNP is not a system enabler that

can be developed and deployed overnight. Should a future national security situation arise where SNP would play a critical

role, an ongoing program is much more likely to be available

in the short term than one started from scratch.

The authors’ next recommendation is to use a values-focused

decision strategy to inform the dimensions of the transscience

feasibility space as discussed in chapter 4. A values-focused

strategy presents an alternative to the present, highly polarized political framework. In the values-focused alternative,

both sides agree to seek a proposition based on shared values.1

By determining what matters to the stakeholders in terms of

informed value judgments, concerns regarding risk and reward are shared early and embedded in policy formulation

from the outset. In essence, this values-focused strategy seeks

a reasoned stakeholder consensus that respects sound scientific judgments on both sides of the debate. The strategy also

recognizes the interested public as a valid stakeholder in the

SNP debate. 

The values-focused decision strategy allows the stakeholders

to inform the unscientific public about their interpretation of

scientific information regarding both the risks and rewards of

SNP. These value judgments about the interpretation of scientific data are folded into the political decision process and

publicly reevaluated using the best available scientific techniques to characterize the consequences of a particular course

of action. This analysis, in turn, informs the classical political

dimensions of risk, relative merit, and reward. Two of the more

important aspects of the values-focused decision strategy are

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that the strategy is participatory and democratic. Therefore,

the process helps to provide insights for the public into the

reasoning behind transscientific policy decisions. This process

creates a transparency for all the stakeholders and builds

communication channels between the concerned public and

the policy makers. NASA is in an excellent position to test the

strategy much as was done for Cassini project.2 This test

should focus on Project Prometheus and the proposed JIMO

mission. If successful, the values-focused decision strategy

could then be employed with the relevant stakeholders.

For more than 50 years, the United States has explored the

potential of nuclear power in a variety of space-focused applications. There have been numerous technical challenges;

however, most of the technical issues have now been overcome. The public is interested in space science but is also sensitive to the political risks, the relative merit of alternatives,

and the potential rewards. Politically aligned and activated,

even a small part of the public would pose pressure that policy

makers could not ignore, and such pressure may determine

the feasibility of SNP systems going forward. 

Will the day arrive when there are nuclear reactors flying in

space? NASA certainly hopes so, and DOD will probably wish

it to be so in the not too distant future. The ever-increasing demands for power in space seem to suggest that SNP is inevitable. No matter what the outcome, we believe informed

stakeholders making decisions based upon shared values,

while still respecting legitimate differences in scientific judgment, is a far better policy process than the divisive and uncompromising situation that presently exists.

Summary of recommendations:

• Modern society is risk adverse, especially so regarding nuclear technologies.

• Carte blanche permission for the US government to develop nuclear technologies has been withdrawn.

• For SNP to be feasible, there must be a compelling mission

requirement and a reasonable level of popular political

support.

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DOWNEY, FORESTIER, AND MILLER
• The values-focused decision strategy should be employed

by both NASA and DOD SNP missions.

• NASA should carry SNP public policy forward with a focus

on deep space exploration—a mission that requires SNP

technology.

• Department of Defense also has a strong case for SNP

arising from emerging security concerns and should leverage NASA’s experience.

Notes

1. Joseph L. Arvai, Tim L. McDaniels, and Robin S. Gregory, “Exploring

a Structured Decision Approach as a Means of Fostering Participatory Space

Policy Making at NASA,” Space Policy 18, no.3 (Aug 2002): 221–31.

2. Ibid.

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Appendix A

The History of Space Nuclear Power

The utilization of atomic power in outer space offers the

greatest opportunity for the United States to create a climate

of world good will through leadership in peaceful space exploration. This matter could be as important as the hydrogen

bomb debate in the early 1950s or the Manhattan project decision in 1942. Few things deserve more serious reflection,

for we can now be missing a great opportunity while sowing

the seeds of another prestige disaster.

—Sen. Clinton P. Anderson

—Chairman of the Joint Committee on Atomic Energy

—US Senate, 1960

Early Developments

Before embarking on a discussion of the history of SNP, this

appendix considers the political context in which the early

programs began. The Cold War was underway and tension between the United States and Soviet Union was increasing. The

first use of atomic power had been the two bombs dropped on

Japan by the United States at the end of the Second World War

in 1945. The Soviet Union conducted its first atomic test in

1949 and by 1953 both superpowers had detonated hydrogen

bombs. Both countries were rapidly developing large stockpiles of nuclear weapons. Against this backdrop, Pres. Dwight D.

Eisenhower initiated a bold program to pursue nuclear power

for peaceful purposes. In a speech before the United Nations

General Assembly on 8 December 1953 he described a new

initiative called Atoms for Peace. President Eisenhower explained

his policy in the following quote: 

The United States knows that peaceful power from atomic energy is no

dream of the future. That capability, already proved, is here now—

today. Who can doubt, if the entire body of the world’s scientists and

engineers had adequate amounts of fissionable material with which to

75
test and develop their ideas, that this capability would rapidly be

transformed into universal, efficient and economic usage?1

This speech indicates that even with the development of nuclear weapons there was a sincere desire to see other applications of nuclear energy come into being. It is also an indication

that the leaders of American society, if not the entire world,

were encouraging support for the development of nuclear technologies. In some sense, there was probably no more opportune time for the development of SNP.

The Nuclear Navy Program

Even before the Atoms for Peace initiative, the United States

was in the process of pursing nuclear power. In 1948 the Navy

began the development of a nuclear reactor for submarine

propulsion. The Navy effort is worthy of analysis because it

highlights several important contextual issues which combined to make it successful. In contrast, the political factors

that made the Navy program successful did not transfer directly to SNP.

The Navy program was the first major nuclear power effort

after World War II. The Cold War was beginning and the political

imperative to establish worldwide US military superiority had

high priority. At the time, a submarine’s capability to operate

submerged was limited. They were basically surface ships with

the ability to submerge for periods of only 30 to 40 minutes.

While under water their maneuverability was also extremely

limited. Their poor subsurface capability imposed severe tactical limitations on their employment and compromised their

most important attribute, stealth. 

Hence, a main motivation for developing nuclear power for

submarines was to obtain the capability to operate for extended

periods below the surface of the ocean. The nuclear submarine

program achieved a significant milestone on 17 January 1955

with the Nautilus.

2 The Nautilus was the world’s first nuclearpowered naval vessel. Now submarines could stay underwater

for extended periods of time with a reliable power supply that

could provide propulsive as well as onboard electrical power.

The success of the Nautilus spawned future generations of

ever more capable nuclear-powered submarines and initiated

76
profound changes to the fundamentals of naval warfare, deterrence, covert operations, and intelligence gathering.

Underlying the success of the Navy program were several

important factors. First, the Navy had a compelling mission requirement that no available alternative enabling technology

could provide. Second, nuclear propulsion produced a substantial performance increase for submarines that improved

their capability, employability, and versatility. Third, the Navy

had the advantage of economy of scale in that many submarines would ultimately be produced, making the development of purpose-built nuclear reactors cost effective. 

The Navy also benefited from the tacit, carte blanche, political

permissions to proceed with nuclear technology that the Cold

War provided. The public knew little about nuclear power and

national security was adequate justification to proceed with

nuclear power on warships. In fact, at the time there was no

requirement for regulatory approval outside of DOD. In addition, the political effectiveness of then Capt Hyman Rickover

should not be underestimated.3 His constant direction, push,

and oversight contributed to the success of the program.

Finally, the Navy program appears to have had wide acceptance by American society to proceed. Even the entertainment

industry was politically supportive. Walt Disney Productions

created a graphic for the Nautilus. The political conditions reflected by the image stand in stark contrast with those of

today. It is almost impossible to imagine today an entertainment company signing on to promote a politically incorrect

and contentious technology such as SNP. Walt Disney Productions also produced an animated film entitled Our Friend the

Atom in 1957 that was intended to promote atomic technology.

Early Space Reactor Programs

Proposals for SNP began to appear in the late 1940s. Despite the earlier successes of the Navy program, few policy

makers seem to have seriously considered the uses of nuclear

power for space applications. Rather, public attention was

turned to the development of commercial nuclear power reactors. Work was begun on the Shippingport nuclear reactor located on the banks of the Ohio River in Pennsylvania. This re77
actor was to be the world’s first commercial nuclear electric

power generator. By all accounts the Shippingport program

progressed successfully, and the nuclear core of the reactor

was inserted on 4 October 1957.4

Four October 1957 is significant for another event, the

launch of sputnik. The political shock of the sputnik launch to

the United States was momentous and galvanized US political

will into pursuing the space race against the Soviet Union. The

country placed increasing emphasis on scientific education

and began to invest significant time and resources in space

programs. Around the time of sputnik, scientists and engineers who had been working on the Shippingport reactor were

already thinking about where the next new challenge for nuclear power might come from. They got their answer as they

gazed upward to see the small Soviet satellite pass overhead

and wondered about the role for nuclear power in space. This

crucial question, even at the earliest stages of SNP, is indicative of the major problems that plagued the SNP program.

What are the mission requirements and what alternative

courses of action are available to policy makers? The following

quote from Glenn Seaborg, then the chairman of the Atomic

Energy Commission summarizes the scope of what the United

States wanted to accomplish, “What we are attempting to

make is a flyable compact reactor, not bigger than an office

desk, which will produce the power of the Hoover Dam from a

cold start in a matter of minutes.”5

Early Space Propulsion Reactor Programs

Initial studies on nuclear rocket propulsion had begun as

far back as 1947.6 The technical focus was on nuclear rockets

for missile propulsion. The first perceived science mission requirement for a nuclear-propelled rocket was a mission to either

Mars or the Moon. However, unlike the Navy program, no mission was in the works and the initial development occurred before President Kennedy’s speech that launched the program to

put a man on the Moon. 

This lack of a mission requirement that could be met with

another technology was probably the most significant issue

that would hobble the SNP program for decades to come. Over

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the years, the United States considered several nuclear rocket

propulsion systems, but one that stands out for its technological

promise is the Nuclear Engine for Rocket Vehicle Applications

(NERVA) program. NERVA became a major program effort in

early 1961. Developed over several years, the NERVA program

was an outstanding technological success. Planners intended

NERVA for a mission to Mars because the NERVA rocket had

several payload advantages. The most significant was the takeoff

weight envisioned for the Mars mission. Chemical rockets would

have produced an orbital mass three to five times greater depending on planetary alignment.7

A flight test for NERVA was scheduled for 1973 but the program was abruptly discontinued in late 1972. The program

was cancelled due to a lack of funding and the lack of definite

plans for a Mars mission. As the program was being pursued,

various political issues related to nuclear materials began to

cause delays. The reactor thrust plume was slightly radioactive,

although the total radioactivity was not considered a significant hazard. The greatest effect of the radioactive plume came

when the aboveground test ban treaty was signed in 1963.

After the treaty became effective, all aboveground testing was

prohibited—even for peaceful purposes such as NERVA. In the

coming years, political constraints, like the aboveground test

ban treaty, would continue to haunt the development of SNP.

Early Space Power Reactor Programs

At the same time that the United States was pursuing nuclearpowered rockets, the Eisenhower administration made a decision in 1960 to develop a nuclear reactor system for electrical

power in space. That system, designated the Space Nuclear

Auxiliary Power (SNAP)-10A and developed jointly by the Atomic

Energy Commission and the Air Force, was flown in orbit in

1965. The design of the reactor was technically elegant. Several

safety procedures were put into place to limit the risk of a nuclear accident and exposure to radioactive materials. First, the

reactor was launched in cold state meaning the reactor would

not actually be turned on until it was safely established in its

proper orbit. Second, even during operation, its design prevented

the reactor from going out of control. Finally, the reactor was

79
in a very high orbit above the Earth, approximately 1,296 kilometers (over 800 miles). The reactor functioned flawlessly for

42 days and then shut down after a voltage regulator failure.

It remains in orbit today and is not expected to reenter the

Earth’s atmosphere for several hundred years.8

SNAP-10A validated many technologies and operational procedures and expectations for the future of SNP soared. An advertisement for SNAP-10A appeared in Newsweek magazine in the

21 June 1965 issue. This is significant as it points to the kind of

political permission that existed at that time. This advertisement

is not unlike one that would appear today for a sports car or

modern appliances. The possible uses for the reactor were quite

varied and the company that produced it, North American Aviation, appeared optimistic about the future of SNP.

Despite the technological successes of the SNAP-10A, no additional systems were produced and the program apparently

ended without follow-on development. The reasons for this

seem lost, but one likely explanation is the lack of a compelling mission that demanded the capabilities only a SNP system could provide. The government focused on the lunar program, and it appears to have taken precedence over many

other programs. It is unfortunate that SNP fell off the national

priority list because when it appeared again in the 1980s the

political conditions were quite different. By the 1980s the public’s tolerance for nuclear technology was much diminished

from that of the 1950s and 1960s.

The Soviet Union’s Space Nuclear Program

At the same time that the United States was developing both

nuclear propulsion and power systems, the Soviet Union was

also working hard on SNP for military applications. From 1967

to 1988 the Soviet Union launched 35 nuclear reactor systems.9 The primary purpose for these reactors was to provide

power for Radar Ocean Reconnaissance Satellites (RORSAT).

Soviet radar technology was limited at the time, and to obtain

a useful radar signal the satellites had to be flown at low orbital altitudes. This altitude was too low for solar panels to be

used due to their high atmospheric drag, hence the need for

SNP. This highlights a major difference between the Soviet

80
program and that of the United States. Unlike the United States,

the Soviet Union did have a compelling mission requirement that

could not be satisfied by an alternative technology. 

The Russian reactor, called the Topaz 1, was first unveiled

at the 1964 Third UN Conference on the Peaceful Uses of

Atomic Energy. These reactors were used until the late 1980s,

well into the timeframe where worldwide political activism

concerning nuclear power was beginning to have significant

policy impact elsewhere in the world. Unlike the United States,

the Soviets had no need to consider the internal political aspects of using SNP. Furthermore, given the highly sensitive

nature of these systems, it is likely the Soviet public did not

even know they existed. 

Significantly, the Soviet RORSAT program suffered five failures, three of which resulted in unplanned reentries of fissile

material. In April 1973, a Soviet RORSAT mission launch failure resulted in the return of the power source in the Pacific

Ocean, North of Japan. Air sampling by United States planes

detected radioactive material as would be expected from the

Topaz 1 reactor. On 24 January 1978 a Cosmos satellite carrying a Topaz 1 nuclear reactor reentered the atmosphere over

the Northwest Territories of Canada. According to the Soviets,

the reactor was designed to burn upon reentry. Nevertheless,

a significant amount of radioactive debris was found in an

area of approximately 100,000 square kilometers. This reentry

was a major international incident and certainly would have

been much worse had the breakup occurred over a population

center such as Montreal or Toronto. Another reactor, this time

from Cosmos 1402, reentered the atmosphere in February

1983 after the payload was not boosted into a high enough

orbit. Fortunately this reactor fell harmlessly into the South

Atlantic Ocean although a trail of radioactive material was left

behind in the atmosphere.10

The Soviet Union apparently stopped using space nuclear

reactors in the late 1980s. Clearly, concern about the previous

accidents was a factor. In fact, the 1978 accident accelerated

the eventual decline of the RORSAT program. Furthermore,

the Soviet Union had turned its attention to submarines as a

means to track US aircraft carriers. In addition, Soviet radar

81
technology had advanced sufficiently that lower orbit operations were not required to accomplish the desired mission. It

is possible that the use of SNP would have ended sooner than

it did. However, it was only after Mikhail Gorbachev came into

power that new and different ways of thinking were allowed to

be explored.11

These Soviet failures have had important policy implications

for the US program. They highlight the potential risks of

spaceflight and the serious consequences when nuclear materials are involved, particularly when the environmental consequences of an accident cannot be fully assessed due to the

transscientific nature of this problem. By the 1980s the general public’s concern over nuclear issues made the prospects

of a new SNP program politically infeasible even though technological feasibility was well established.

Into the 1990s

Despite the fact that early SNP programs never advanced

beyond the test and evaluation phase, development continued

into the 1990s. After a nearly 20-year hiatus, interest in the

United States was rekindled with the Strategic Defense Initiative

(SDI). Some information from this era remains classified, but

two major programs emerged. The first of these was Timberwind,

a nuclear rocket propulsion system. The other was SP-100, a

nuclear reactor that was intended to provide primary power for

several space-based components of SDI. When initially proposed,

these two programs appeared to satisfy the long-missing

compelling mission requirement for SNP. SDI was ambitious,

complex, and would require electrical power levels never before

envisioned. However, as was the case for much of SDI, the requirement disappeared with the end of the Cold War in 1989,

and so did Timberwind and SP-100.

Timberwind

The Timberwind rocket was a heavy lift vehicle that would

launch SDI components into orbit. In many ways, the development of this program mirrors that of the NERVA rocket.

Timberwind began in 1982 and it is estimated that more than

82
$800 million was spent on the program. The program was

largely declassified in 1992 and renamed the Space Nuclear

Thermal Propulsion (SNTP) program. The Clinton administration cancelled the program in 1993 when it terminated most

nuclear programs.

Once information about Timberwind became available several

scientists and other activists raised serious concerns. Quite

vocal and ominous sounding, their pronouncements were significant in contrast to the near total silence surrounding the

NERVA program. One example comes from the late Dr. Henry

Kendall, then chairman of the Union of Concerned Scientists

and a Nobel Laureate. He is quoted as saying: “The needle just

goes up on the end of the [danger] scale and stays there. Such

a rocket would release a stream of radiation as it flew and if it

broke up, ‘you’ve got radioactive material spraying all over the

place’ . . . the risks are extremely great.”12

If nothing else, this comment and others like it indicate that

the tacit political permission previously granted by society was

under serious challenge. By the 1980s, people were fearful of

nuclear technologies. Appeal and amplification of that fear, if

not heard by everyone in the society, certainly were ringing in

the ears of policy makers, particularly as organized social

protest began to emerge.

SP-100

The SP-100 program started in 1983. It was the first major reactor program to undergo serious development since SNAP-10A.

SP-100 was also an important program for SDI. The 100 in the

name comes from the plan to have the reactor produce 100 kW

of electric power. It was intended to operate for seven years of full

power over a 10-year life cycle. The SP-100 design allowed for

power outputs ranging from 10 kW to one megawatt.13

The SP-100 program appears to have been plagued by problems almost from the beginning. First, SP-100 was complex

and pushed the edge of technology in materials, fuel, and energy conversion. Program participants included the Defense

Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA), DOD, Department of Energy (DOE) and NASA. As the system evolved, the

time to completion was pushed farther out. This introduced

83
significant program risk, as support was necessary over several

sessions of Congress and three different administrations.14

Surprisingly, there appears to have been little organized

protest against the development of SP-100. This can partially

be explained by the classified nature of the program. In addition, the major protests were over the SDI in general, not particular systems. Finally, SP-100 was cancelled in 1993. 

The Cassini Mission

In 1997 NASA launched a space probe named Cassini.

15

Dubbed the “Rolls Royce” of space missions, it is one of the

largest and most ambitious missions ever undertaken. The

Cassini probe explored Saturn and conducted numerous experiments on the planet, its rings, and satellites. The cost of

this mission was about $3.4 billion. The Cassini probe arrived

at Saturn in July 2004.

Those unfamiliar with the Cassini mission might wonder

why it is significant in the political debate about nuclear power

in space. More to the point, Cassini is not powered by a nuclear reactor, the main focus of this paper. However, it is largely

powered by nuclear energy, that energy coming from an array

of RTGs. RTGs were discussed in chapter 1. What makes them

particularly significant for Cassini is the quantity of plutonium

238 being carried on the probe; that is, 72 pounds. This is the

largest amount ever launched into space. The launch of this

amount of a highly toxic substance caused significant protest. 

Protestors challenged NASA to verify the safety of the program. Under the umbrella of the FCPJ, a number of protest

events were held and legal action was taken against the mission. Concern centered on two aspects of Cassini. First was

the threat of explosion on launch with the resulting possibility

of contamination in the launch area. However, the larger concern centered on the fact that the Cassini probe was going to

make a close approach to the Earth in 1999. The fear was that

if the probe reentered the Earth’s atmosphere it would burn

up and large amounts of plutonium would then enter the

ecosystem. For the protestors, this risk was unacceptable and

doomsday proclamations were made about the future of humanity. The close approach occurred in 1999 without incident.

84
The highly toxic nature of plutonium is what frightens people

the most. Even extremely small amounts lodging in the body,

particularly the lungs, are thought to cause lung cancer. Fear

of a plutonium release is not without precedent. In 1964 a US

navigational satellite failed to reach its intended orbit. The

RTG power source disintegrated into the atmosphere as it was

designed. This incident released 2.1 pounds of Pu-238 into the

atmosphere, tripling the worldwide inventory. There has been

considerable debate about the potential health impacts of radioactive materials released into the atmosphere by these accidents.

Some have argued that significant increases in worldwide cancer can be directly attributed to the additional plutonium in

the atmosphere.16 However, there is no way to scientifically

confirm this. While it is true that Pu-238 is now found in the

bones of all human beings as a result of the 1964 reentry, it is

also true that the average life span of humans has been

steadily increasing. 

Here again we see the transscience nature of SNP. Questions about the potential risks of nuclear materials release can

never be answered by experiment and testing. No rational actor

would be willing to explode a functioning space nuclear reactor

on launch or allow it to burn up in the atmosphere to see what

would happen. We are left to make the best technical analysis

and estimates and then make a political calculation about the

risk, relativity, and reward of any mission involving SNP.

The purpose of this paper is not to explore Cassini in depth;

this has already been done elsewhere. The reader is invited to

review the excellent work of Victoria P. Friedensen, which

chronicles the details of the protest movement and its consequences.17 Another discussion of the issues surrounding

Cassini can be found in an online forum conducted by the

Newshour program on PBS.18 To gain a perspective on the opposition’s point of view, the book by Karl Grossman, The

Wrong Stuff, is the most extensive source.19

Despite the risks, the Cassini mission went as planned.

However, it is clear that political permission from society was

being challenged in significant ways. Had the FCPJ been successful in delaying the launch of Cassini, it is possible the mission might not have ever flown. Unlike the early days of the

85
Atoms for Peace initiative, many in the society saw nuclear energy more as Atoms for Death. This was especially true for

space missions where the direct benefit to society was called

into question.

Contemporary Space Nuclear Power

After the termination of Timberwind and SP-100 in 1993,

there was no major program to develop SNP. In fact, in 2001

DOD’s Space Technology Guide dropped any reference to SNP.

Defense officials at the time were quoted as saying: “In the

STG, the Congress asked for an investment strategy for space

technology. Given the severely constrained funding available

for space technology development, funds for nuclear power devices would not make the priority cut. Even if we could produce

them economically, the mission costs would be unaffordable

because of the measures necessary for security.”20

There are no major technical hurdles that would prevent

further development and deployment of space systems using

nuclear reactors for power or propulsion. Technical feasibility

has already been well established and demonstrated with

SNAP-10A in 1965. Given sufficient time and resources, there

is little doubt that the technology can be made safe to twentyfirst century standards. In fact, space-based reactors have one

safety advantage over RTGs. The reactors can be launched in

a nonoperating mode, and turned on only after the proper

orbit is achieved. One could in fact argue that there is really

no restriction on developing SNP to the same level of safety

and low operating risk that the airline industry now enjoys.

Nevertheless, it is true that the environmental consequences

of an SNP accident on launch or in the atmosphere remain

transscientific. That, in the context of today’s political climate,

will mean that the use of SNP will remain a contested political

decision.

The political feasibility of SNP will be tested with the announcement of NASA’s Project Prometheus. NASA has decided

to embark on a new deep-space mission to explore the icy moons

of Jupiter. Among the many challenges facing this mission is

the requirement to use a nuclear-reactor-based propulsion

86
system. See Appendix B for a description of Prometheus from

a technical and scientific perspective.

Once again, a program to develop SNP has been initiated. If

history is any indicator, this project faces significant challenge.

NASA no longer has the luxury of developing technologies in a

political vacuum. Several activists’ groups are certain to oppose

the project. NASA will be forced to engage the public to gain acceptance for the program. Given the long and troubled history of

SNP, it is hard to imagine this will be an easy undertaking.

Notes

1. Dwight D. Eisenhower, Atoms for Peace, speech given to United Nations

General Assembly, 8 Dec 1953.

2. John W. Simpson, Nuclear Power from Undersea to Outer Space (La

Grange Park, Ill.: American Nuclear Society, 1995), 65.

3. Ibid., 35.

4. Ibid., 109.

5. Ibid., 115–20.

6. NERVA, http://www.astronautix.com/project/nerva.htm (accessed

24 Mar 2004).

7. Simpson, Nuclear Power from Undersea to Outer Space, 151.

8. Joseph A. Angelo and David Buden, Space Nuclear Power (Malabar,

Fla.: Orbit Book Company, 1985), 165–68.

9. Steven Aftergood, “Background on Space Nuclear Power,” Science and

Global Security 1 (1989): 97.

10. Ibid., 98–100.

11. Prof. Roald Sagdeev, interviewed by Lt Col Jim Downey at Eisenhower Institute, 24 Feb 2004.

12. “Global Network—Plutonium in Space (Again!),” http://www.globenet.

free-online.co.uk/articles/morenukesinspace.htm (accessed 24 Mar 2004).

13. Aftergood, “Background on Space Nuclear Power,” 100–103.

14. Mitch Nicklovitch, PhD, interviewed by Lt Col Jim Downey, Oct 2003.

15. The reader is invited to review the excellent work of Victoria P.

Friedensen, which chronicles the details of the protest movement and its

consequences. Another discussion of the issues surrounding Cassini can be

found in an online forum conducted by the Newshour program on PBS. To

gain a perspective on the opposition’s point of view the book by Karl Grossman,

The Wrong Stuff, is the most extensive source. These references are in the

bibliography.

16. Karl Grossman, The Wrong Stuff: The Space Program’s Nuclear Threat

to Our Planet (Monroe, Maine: Common Courage Press, 1997).

17. Victoria Friedensen, “Protest Space: A Study of Technological Choice,

Perception of Risk, and Space Exploration” (master’s thesis, Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University, 11 Oct 1999).

87
18. Online Newshour Forum, “The Cassini Mission—21 October 1997,”

http://www.pbs.org/newshour/forum/october97/cassini.html (accessed

24 Mar 2004).

19. Grossman, The Wrong Stuff.

20. “DOD’s Flirtation with Nuclear-Powered Satellites Ends, Analyst

Says,” http://www.fas.org/sgp/news/2001/03/iaf030201.html (accessed

24 Mar 2004).

88
Appendix B

Project Prometheus—

Frequently Asked Questions—

December 2003

This appendix is reproduced from NASA, “Project Prometheus,

Frequently Asked Questions,” December 2003 http://www.

jpl.nasa.gov/jimo/Schiff_FAQ_03_pdf2.pdf (accessed 11 March

2004).

What is Project Prometheus? 

NASA’s Mission to understand and protect our home planet, to

explore the Universe and search for life, and to inspire the next

generation of explorers requires that we make strategic investments in technologies that will transform our capability to

explore the Solar System and beyond. Within the Space Science

Enterprise, we are developing the tools, insights, and abilities

necessary to answer some of humanity’s most profound questions: How did the Universe begin and evolve? How did we get

here? Where are we going? Are we alone? 

In Greek mythology, Prometheus was the wisest of the Titans

who gave the gift of fire to humanity. The word “Prometheus”

is synonymous with “forethought,” an idea that embodies

NASA’s hope to establish new tools for expanding our exploration capabilities. 

NASA believes that, in the field of space exploration, answering these questions translates to constantly striving to develop

innovative scientific instruments and more effective ways to

safely power, propel, and maneuver spacecraft, as we explore

the worlds beyond our current reach. Achievement of this ambitious vision requires a bold approach to the next generation

of solar system exploration missions, including revolutionary

improvements in energy generation and use in space. 

89
Project Prometheus, the Nuclear Systems Program, is making

strategic investments in near- and long-term nuclear electric

power and propulsion technologies to maintain our current

space science capabilities and that would enable space exploration missions and scientific returns never before achievable.

In addition to developing the next generation of radioisotope

power systems, the predecessors of which have been used for

over 30 years to power space science missions, Project

Prometheus would develop and demonstrate the safe and reliable operation of a nuclear reactor-powered spacecraft on a

long-duration space science mission. Toward this end, the

proposed Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter (JIMO) mission has been

identified as the first space science mission that would incorporate these new revolutionary technologies.

What is the Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter? 

Project Prometheus is developing a proposed space science

mission, the Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter, that would enable detailed scientific investigation and data return from the icy

moons of Jupiter - Callisto, Ganymede and Europa - that may

have three ingredients considered essential for life: water, energy and organic material. Making use of nuclear fission power

and electric propulsion, the mission would involve one spacecraft orbiting, at close range and for long durations (months at

a time), these three planet-sized moons. The spacecraft would

orbit each of these moons for extensive investigations of their

makeup, history, and potential for sustaining life. 

In addition to enabling an entirely new class of scientific investigations, the mission would also demonstrate the safe and

reliable use of a space nuclear reactor in deep space for longduration space exploration. The amount of power available

from a nuclear reactor—potentially hundreds of times greater

than that available to current interplanetary spacecraft—

would enable delivery of larger payloads with vastly more capable instruments and faster data transmission back to Earth

than such missions as Voyager, Galileo, and Cassini. In addition, because extremely fuel-efficient electric thrusters would

propel the spacecraft, mission planners could make course

90
adjustments throughout the mission in response to real-time

discoveries. 

How will the Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter get to Jupiter?

After being launched from Earth by a traditional chemical

rocket, the spacecraft would rely on an electric propulsion system, e.g., a system expelling electrically charged particles

called ions from its engines to generate thrust. Powered by a

small nuclear reactor, the electric propulsion system would

propel the spacecraft to the Jovian system and then insert the

spacecraft into orbit around, successively, each of Jupiter’s

three icy moons. In 1998, NASA’s Deep Space 1 mission successfully demonstrated the use of ion propulsion for interplanetary travel. 

Why do you need to use a nuclear reactor to get to

Jupiter?

The large quantities of power generated by the compact nuclear

reactor (about the size of a 5-gallon bucket) enable a variety of

advanced mission capabilities, and therefore increased scientific return, not possible with conventional power systems. 

To start, access to high levels of continuous power enables

full-time maneuverability of the spacecraft. After being launched

from Earth, using conventional chemical rockets, the spacecraft would use fuel-efficient electric thrusters to propel it to

Jupiter. Once in the Jovian system, the engines would propel

the spacecraft to each moon where controlled, close-range orbits would provide ideal conditions for science observations.

Moreover, the maneuverability afforded by nuclear power and

electric propulsion would enable mission scientists to alter

mission plans based on real-time discoveries. Such maneuvers

are not possible with current chemical propulsion systems,

which consume the bulk of their propellant during departure

from Earth. Once outside Earth’s gravitational influence, such

conventionally powered spacecraft coast to their destination,

making very limited adjustments to their trajectories using relatively inefficient chemical combustion for propulsion. 

91
Electric propulsion should also enable delivery of significantly

heavier, and in most cases larger, payloads to destinations

throughout the solar system and beyond. Because the electric

propulsion system would consume fuel very efficiently, it

could be used throughout the mission to gradually accelerate

the spacecraft and its unprecedented scientific payload to high

velocities. 

Either in transit or at its final destination, the reactor could

power high-capability, active science instruments never before used beyond Earth orbit. Another benefit is that space

scientists could operate these instruments simultaneously

rather than cycling them as is currently the practice due to

limitations in the power available on present-day exploration missions. 

Finally, the reactor would power the spacecraft’s communications equipment, which would transmit the voluminous science

data acquired by these instruments back to Earth in quantities

and speeds never before possible.

Why are Jupiter’s icy moons a priority (i.e., what is the

scientific justification)? What are the science goals? 

Exploring the Universe and searching for life are central to

NASA’s mission, and Jupiter’s large icy moons appear to have

three ingredients considered essential for life: water, energy

and the necessary chemical elements. NASA’s Galileo spacecraft found evidence for subsurface oceans on these three moons

of Jupiter—a finding that ranks among the major scientific

discoveries of the Space Age. 

The National Research Council (NRC) completed a report last

year, based on input from the planetary science community,

that prioritized potential flight missions for exploring the solar

system. It ranked an “Europa geophysical explorer” mission as

its top priority for a “flagship” mission, based on the Galileo

data suggesting a liquid ocean under Europa’s ice crust. The

Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter mission would build upon and exceed the NRC’s recommendation by not only conducting indepth investigations of Europa, but because of the propulsion

92
capabilities of the spacecraft, it would also examine Callisto

and Ganymede, providing comparisons key to understanding

all three. 

The Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter mission has four major science

goals: 

1. Determine the interior structures of the icy moons of Jupiter

in relation to the formation and history of the Jupiter system; 

2. Determine the evolution and present state of the Galilean

satellite surfaces and subsurfaces, and the processes affecting them; 

3. Determine how the components of the Jovian system operate and interact, leading to the diverse and possibly habitable environments of the icy moons; 

4. Determine the habitability of Europa and the other icy moons

of Jupiter. 

How much fuel will be used in the reactor? 

The amount of fuel needed for the proposed reactor would depend on the final reactor design. However, based on a reference power level of 100 kilowatts (electric power), the reactor

would be quite small: the entire reactor core could fit within a

5-gallon drum. Each of the reactor design concepts currently

being considered could have from 100 to 150 kilograms or approximately 220 to 330 pounds of uranium fuel. 

How hazardous would it be if there were an accident in

space and the reactor explodes? 

The reactor will be designed with multiple safety features that

will prevent uncontrolled, sustained nuclear fission (which

could disassemble the reactor) before, during or after launch

of the spacecraft. Moreover, the space reactor would be designed to remain intact over a broad range of ground and inspace accidents. 

93
How often will a mission similar to the Jupiter Icy

Moons Orbiter be mounted? 

It is planned that the Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter mission would

be the first of many scientific missions enabled by nuclear

electric power and propulsion. Specifics regarding any future

missions would be dependent on NASA’s exploration requirements, developed in consultation with the scientific community. It is expected that the technologies developed by Project

Prometheus could support future space exploration missions,

including human exploration of space. 

What will be the operations cost for the JIMO mission

and how long will those costs continue? 

The operational cost will be highly dependent on the method

chosen to implement the Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter mission.

When the initial mission studies are completed in FY05,

NASA expects to be in a better position to provide accurate

and complete project life cycle cost estimates, including operational costs. 

What confidence do we have that the systems developed

for the JIMO mission will work? 

NASA is very confident in its ability to design and build systems that will meet all mission requirements and be ready to

launch by the early part of the next decade, assuming that the

required funding is received. The technical hurdles, while significant, do not require major breakthroughs but can be managed with a focused and consistent engineering effort by the

nation’s R&D community. 

Where will we get the enriched uranium for the JIMO reactor? 

The uranium-235 for the fission reactor would come from current federal government stocks owned and managed by the

Department of Energy. 

94
What is the total cost of this mission? Why is it so expensive? 

NASA’s funding estimates reflected in the President’s FY04

budget run out through FY08 includes roughly $3 billion for

Project Prometheus, with just over $2 billion of that directed

toward the technology development for the Jupiter Icy Moons

Orbiter and similar missions. NASA expects to be able to provide more accurate and complete project life cycle cost estimates when initial mission studies are completed in FY05. 

The Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter mission would be the most capable deep space science mission ever launched by NASA,

with revolutionary new capabilities enabled by the power

available from its space nuclear reactor. NASA views Project

Prometheus and the JIMO mission as strategic investments

necessary to expand our capabilities to effectively support our

mission of exploring the universe and searching for life. 

What scientific payload could justify the expense of such

a mission? 

Presently, because of power limitations, outer solar system exploration missions have been limited in their science capabilities

and, therefore, their science return. Project Prometheus is

NASA’s strategic investment in technologies that could provide

the science community with the energy supply necessary,

practically anywhere in the solar system, to dramatically increase science opportunities and the quality of science conducted throughout a mission.

Because of the power available from a space nuclear reactor,

the spacecraft would be able to carry instruments with capabilities far beyond those flown in previous outer solar system

missions, including high-power, active instruments as well as

instruments of much greater precision and resolution that

would generate orders of magnitude more data than current

missions with significantly smaller power sources. Examples

of such instruments are high-power radars that could penetrate deep into the subsurface of the three moons (10s of kilometers) in search of liquid water, more capable cameras and

95
spectrometers with greater resolution (200 colors vs. 7 colors

or less than 100 meters per pixel vs. 100 km per pixel) to map

nearly the entire surface of each moon, and instruments that

use lasers to measure the topography of, or to illuminate, extraterrestrial surfaces. Moreover, as opposed to current missions

where instruments are cycled on and off, the nuclear-powered

spacecraft would have the capability to power all its science

instruments, if desirable, simultaneously. 

When assessing the science potential of a mission, one must

look not only at the scientific payload, but also at how these

instruments can be used throughout the mission. Nuclear

electric power and propulsion technologies are being studied

because they have the potential to enable close-range observations of multiple destinations for extended periods of time in

a single mission; to adjust mission objectives in response to

real-time discoveries, and to transmit huge amounts of data

back to Earth. 

Specific science instruments have yet to be identified for the

proposed JIMO mission. To facilitate this process, NASA is

working with the science community via a Science Definition

Team, to identify specific science objectives for the mission

and the measurements necessary to support these objectives.

In addition, NASA has begun a new program dedicated to developing the new high capability instruments that would be

possible on the potential JIMO mission. Final determination of

science instruments would be carried out through an Announcement of Opportunity (AO), which would provide the science community an opportunity to formally propose specific

instruments and measurements.

How will you ensure planetary protection at Europa?

NASA’s Office of Space Science will work with the NASA Planetary Protection Advisory Committee to develop guidelines for

planetary protection requirements for Europa. For example,

this mission would be designed to reduce the probability that

the spacecraft would strike Europa at any stage of the mission. 

96
Why can’t this mission be done with solar electric

propulsion and solar sails?

Solar arrays would have to be far too large to produce the electrical power required to operate the electric propulsion system

and scientific instruments for the Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter

mission. The Sun’s energy at Jupiter is less than 1/25th of its

level at Earth, which make this type of mission virtually impossible to perform with solar arrays, even taking into account

expected improvements in solar array efficiency in the foreseeable future.

NASA is researching the ability of solar sails (not to be confused with large solar arrays) to enable low mass spacecraft to

achieve large increases in velocity by using the pressure of

sunlight to fill a lightweight sail, thereby “pushing” the spacecraft. Solar sails may one day be used to propel small spacecraft to the outer solar system, but presently their most effective use appears to be within a “zone” no more than twice the

Earth’s distance from the Sun. Therefore, solar sails are not a

viable option for propelling a JIMO-like spacecraft to Jupiter,

let alone maneuvering it around Jupiter’s three icy moons. 

What is the Department of Defense’s role in this

program? Is NASA really just a front for DOD in their

desire for fission-powered space weapons? 

While NASA maintains open lines of communication with various

components of the federal government, DOD has no role in

this program. Project Prometheus program requirements have

and will continue to be established to meet NASA’s science

and technology needs for space exploration. 

Meanwhile, NASA works very closely with the Department of

Energy (DOE) to develop space science missions using nuclear

power sources. As we expand such cooperation to include both

radioisotope and nuclear reactor power systems, we will be

calling upon more of DOE’s experience base and technical

infrastructure than that necessary for radioisotope work alone. 

97
How do you plan to test the reactor to meet the schedule

for this mission? 

We are too early in the program definition phase to appropriately address this topic. Specific details of how the space reactor will be tested would be defined once a reactor type has

been selected and the design, test, and manufacturing plans

are worked out with the reactor developer. 

How safe are radioisotope thermoelectric generators and

reactors? 

Safety is of the utmost importance and drives the overall design of radioisotope power systems and reactors, their applications, and the extensive testing, analysis and review that

each system undergoes. Prior to any mission carrying nuclear

material, NASA and the Department of Energy (which is responsible for development of any space nuclear systems for

NASA) jointly conduct extensive safety reviews supported by

safety testing and analysis. To date, NASA has safely developed, tested, and flown radioisotope power systems on 17 missions and the United States successfully launched a nuclear

reactor into earth orbit in 1965. The Department of Energy

and NASA place the highest priority on assuring the safe use

of any nuclear power systems for space missions. 

In addition to internal agency reviews for missions involving

nuclear systems, an ad hoc Interagency Nuclear Safety Review

Panel (INSRP) is established as part of the Presidential nuclear

safety launch approval process to evaluate the safety analysis

report prepared by the Department of Energy. Based upon recommendations by the Department of Energy and other agencies and the INSRP evaluation, NASA submits a request for

nuclear safety launch approval to the White House Office of

Science and Technology Policy (OSTP). The OSTP Director may

make the decision or refer the matter to the President. In either

case, the process for launch cannot proceed until nuclear

safety launch approval has been granted. 

Launch approval for United States space missions that use

nuclear systems is based on careful consideration of the pro98
jected benefits and risks of the proposed mission. The analysis of

potential consequences will be based on a detailed understanding of: a) the possible accident environments; b) the response of the nuclear system in those accident environments;

c) modeling how any potential releases of nuclear material

might be transported; d) estimates of potential public exposure and the consequences of those exposures. 

What is the danger to the public from this project?

(testing, launch, flight, re-entry?) 

NASA’s top priority is to ensure that this program and its missions can be implemented safely. Therefore, safety will be the

primary driver in every aspect of the program, including

spacecraft design, test, manufacture, and operation. All program activities will be conducted in a manner to reduce risk to

levels as low as reasonably achievable. A hierarchy of safety

objectives, requirements and engineering specifications will be

established and followed during each phase of every mission. 

To support these objectives, NASA will identify and mitigate

risks as early in the system design process as possible and we

will work continuously to ensure the safety of the public,

workers, and the environment. NASA will provide opportunities for public review and comment throughout the life of the

program. 

What were NASA’s previous failures with space nuclear

systems? Have there been any failures by other organizations or nations? 

None of the more than thirty radioisotope power systems and

one reactor system flown by the United States has failed.

Three missions using radioisotope power systems have been

subject to mechanical failures or human errors resulting in

early aborts of each mission. In each instance, the radioisotope power system performed in accordance with its design

requirements. 

The first such incident occurred during the launch of a Navy

navigation satellite in 1964. The Navy satellite failed to achieve

99
orbit and burned up on re-entry, which was in keeping with

the safety design practice at that time. Subsequent radioisotope

power systems were designed to remain intact on re-entry. In

1968, NASA aborted its Nimbus-B weather satellite two minutes after launch because human error had caused the rocket

to veer off course. The Radioisotope Thermoelectric Generator

(RTG) was retrieved intact from the Santa Barbara Channel off

the coast of California. The fuel from that system was reused

on a subsequent NASA mission. Lastly, in April 1970 an RTG

survived the breakup of the Apollo 13 Lunar Module and went

down intact in the 20,000 foot deep Tonga Trench. 

In 1965, the United States successfully launched a small nuclear reactor into Earth orbit. The reactor operated safely until

an electrical failure, unrelated to reactor operation, caused it

to prematurely shut down. The spacecraft is now orbiting

Earth at a distance that will ensure that it does not return

until its radioactive fuel has been rendered harmless due to

radioactive decay. 

Open literature suggests that through 1988 the former Soviet

Union launched just over 30 nuclear-powered spacecraft into

Earth orbit for marine radar observations. In 1978 a Soviet

space reactor re-entered the atmosphere and landed in

Canada. Five years later, a Soviet reactor re-entered over the

South Atlantic Ocean. In 1996, the Russian Mars 96 spacecraft carrying an RTG failed to reach Earth orbit on launch

and fell into the eastern Pacific. It is believed that some of the

debris may have fallen over South America. 

Who is involved in the launch pad (safety) processes? 

NASA’s Kennedy Space Center (KSC) has the overall management and integration responsibilities for launch site ground

processing operations. However, launching NASA spacecraft is

a joint effort between KSC and the Air Force at Cape Canaveral

Air Force Station and Patrick Air Force Base. The Air Force is

always involved in launch activities through their management of range assets. For mission launches where the spacecraft incorporates a space nuclear power system, the Depart100
ment of Energy provides on-site assistance in monitoring and

risk assessment. 

How many RTG launches might there be in the next 10

years? 

At least two NASA missions within the next decade are considering the use of radioisotope power systems, but it is expected

that others may also pursue this option. The New Horizons

mission to Pluto and the Kuiper Belt is in development for a

launch in 2006 with a radioisotope thermoelectric generator to

supply electricity to the spacecraft. The Mars Science Laboratory, in development for a 2009 launch, is considering two new

radioisotope power systems currently under development by

NASA and the Department of Energy—the Multi-Mission Radioisotope Thermoelectric Generator and the Stirling Radioisotope

Generator. Aside from these two missions, Project Prometheus

is working closely with the space science community to identify

missions that could take advantage of the unique capabilities

enabled by a radioisotope power system. 

Is the research really worth the cost? 

NASA recognizes that Project Prometheus is a major investment of taxpayers’ dollars for which there should be equally

significant benefits. Although difficult to quantify in monetary

terms, NASA firmly believes that the technologies developed

through Project Prometheus have the potential to revolutionize

our ability to explore and understand better the Universe and,

ultimately, humankind’s past, present, and future. 

In the near term, this strategic investment in new technologies

would enable an entirely new class of exploratory missions

from which unprecedented science data would be returned.

Propelled by extremely efficient electric thrusters, a nuclear

reactor-powered spacecraft could observe multiple destinations at close range and if necessary, even modify mission objectives mid-mission based on real-time discoveries. Onboard,

the spacecraft would carry science instruments that could

peer into unknown worlds with more precision and clarity

101
than ever before imaginable. In specific terms, the amount and

quality of the data returned from the Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter mission would dwarf that of any other robotic mission to

the outer solar system. New ranges of science instruments,

never used beyond Earth’s orbit, would capture and return

more data than the two Pioneer, two Voyager, Galileo, and

Cassini missions combined. 

Meanwhile, development of new radioisotope power systems

delivering just over 100 watts of power would enable the Mars

Science Laboratory to operate anywhere on the planet, regardless of the location of the sun, for months or years rather than

days or weeks. Similar power sources could provide electricity

for small-to-medium size space missions such as those proposed for New Horizons. Smaller power systems under consideration by NASA, from milliwatts to several watts, would provide mission planners a full complement of long-lived, rugged,

reliable power sources. There will likely be significant technological benefits to areas outside of space exploration as well. 

In the long term, the technologies developed in support of the

Jupiter Icy Moons Orbiter mission could be evolved to the larger

power and propulsion systems necessary to support human

exploration beyond Earth orbit. Additionally, the knowledge and

technologies developed through Project Prometheus-sponsored

research and development will have broad applications

throughout NASA, other parts of government, academia, and

the private sector. 

For over thirty years, NASA has relied on the same set of power

and propulsion systems to explore the solar system and beyond. Project Prometheus is the investment necessary if NASA

is to take a major step forward in our quest to explore our

solar system and search for life, and through its groundbreaking technologies and missions would provide an inspiration to the next generation of students and explorers.

102
Appendix C

The Member Groups of the Florida

Coalition for Peace and Justice or

Stop Cassini! Campaign

This list is taken from Victoria Friedensen, “Protest Space: A

Study of Technology, Choice, Perception of Risk and Space Exploration” (master’s thesis, Virginia Polytechnic Institute and

State University, 1999).

Action Network for Social Justice (Tampa) 

Affirmation Lutheran Church (Boca Raton)

Alliance for Survival (Costa Mesa, CA) 

Bangladesh Astronomical Society (Dhaka)

Brevardians for Peace and Justice 

Broward Citizens for Peace and Justice

Cassini Redirection Society (British Columbia) 

Catholic Diocese of Jacksonville, Office of Peace and Justice

Center Florida Council of Churches

Center for Advancement of Human Cooperation (Gainesville)

Central Florida Presbytery Polk County

Citizens for Peace and Justice

Citizen Soldier (New York, NY)

Coalition Freedom Coalition (Gainesville)

Community Action Network (Seattle, WA) 

Crow Indian Landowners Assoc. (Montana) 

Cuba Vive

Darmstadter Friedensforum (Darmstadt, Germany)

Delray Citizens for Social Responsibility 

East Bay Peace Action (Berkeley, CA)

Environmental & Peace Education 

103
Florida Southwest Peace Education 

Global Peace Foundation (Mill Valley, CA) 

Global Resource Action Center for the Environment

Glynn Environmental Coalition (Brunswick, GA)

Grandmothers for Peace (Elk Grove, CA)

Grandparents for Peace (St. Augustine) 

Iowans for Nuclear Safety (Cherokee, Iowa) 

Jacksonville Coalition for Peace and Justice

Jonah House (Baltimore, MD)

Kalamazoo Area Coalition for Peace and Justice 

Leicester Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament 

Mama Terra Romania (Bucharest)

Maryland Safe Energy Coalition (Baltimore)

Metanoia (Jacksonville) 

North Palm Beach Unitarians (Deland)

No Nukes Action Project (Los Angeles, CA) 

North Country Coalition for Justice and Peace

Orlando Friends Meeting

Patriots for Peace (Ft. Walton Beach) 

Pax Christi (Florida)

Peace Action (Washington, DC)

Peace Links (New York, NY) 

Peace Resource Center of San Diego 

People’s Action for Clean Energy (Canton, CT)

Phillip Berrigan (Baltimore, MD) 

Plutonium Action, Hiroshima (Japan)

Presbytery of Tampa Bay Peace of Highlands County

Radiant Medicine Project (Kingman, KS) 

Sisters of Mercy Social Justice Team (Brooklyn)

Solar Design Associates (Harvard, MA) 

South Florida Peace Network

St. Margaret Mary Catholic Church (Winter Park) 

104
Tallahassee Society of Friends 

Tampa Bay Peace Education Program

The Nuclear Resister (Tucson, AZ)

Unitarian Friends Fellowship of Pineda 

Unitarian Social Concerns Committee Gainesville 

Unitarian Universalist Church of Sarasota 

Unitarian Universalist Church of Tampa

Unitarians at Large (Del Ray Beach)

Unitarians Jacksonville 

Unitarians Miami 

Unitarians Unitarian Fellowship Vero Beach

Ursulines of Tildonk for Justice and Peace 

United States-Vietnam Friendship Assoc. (San Francisco)

Vets for Peace (Gainesville) 

Vets for Peace (Tallahassee)

Volunteers for Peace (Belmont, VT) 

War & Peace Foundation (New York)

War Resisters League (Asheville, NC) 

Westminster Presbyterian Church (Lakeland) 

Women Strike for Peace (Washington, DC)

Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom -

Tampa 

Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom - 

Treasure Coast

Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom - 

West Palm Beach Winter Park Friends Meeting

Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom (Palm

Beach County)

105
Selected Bibliography

Aftergood, Steven. “Background on Space Nuclear Power.” Science and Global Security 1 (1989): 93–107.

American Institute of Aeronautics and Astronautics (AIAA).

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110
Flying Reactors

The Political Feasibility of 

Nuclear Power in Space

Air University Press Team

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Emily Adams

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