This week we talk about the Falcon 9, the Saturn V, and NASA’s bureaucracy.

We also discuss Boeing’s mishaps, the Scout system, and the Zenit 2.

Recommended Book: What’s Our Problem? by Tim Urban

Transcript

In 1961, the cost to launch a kilogram of something into low Earth orbit—and a kilogram is about 2.2 pounds, and this figure is adjusted for inflation—was about $118,500, using the Scout, or Solid Controlled Orbital Utility Test system of rockets, which were developed by the US government in collaboration with LTV Aerospace.

This price tag dropped substantially just a handful of years later in 1967 with the launch of the Saturn V, which was a staggeringly large launch vehicle, for the time but also to this day, with a carrying capacity of more than 300,000 pounds, which is more than 136,000 kg, and a height of 363 feet, which is around 111 meters and is about as tall as a 36-story building and 60 feet taller than the Statue of Liberty.

Because of that size, the Saturn V was able to get stuff, and people, into orbit and beyond—this was the vehicle that got humans to the Moon—at a dramatically reduced cost, compared to other options at the time, typically weighing in at something like $5,400 per kg; and again, that’s compared to $118,500 per kg just 6 years earlier, with the Scout platform.

So one of the key approaches to reducing the cost of lifting stuff out of Earth’s gravity well so it could be shuffled around in space, in some rare cases beyond Earth orbit, but usually to somewhere within that orbit, as is the case with satellites and space stations, has been to just lift more stuff all at once. And in this context, using the currently available and time-tested methods for chucking things into space, at least, that means using larger rockets, or big rocket arrays composed of many smaller rockets, which then boost a huge vehicle out of Earth’s gravity well, usually by utilizing several stages which can burn up some volume of fuel before breaking off the spacecraft, which reduces the amount of weight it’s carrying and allows secondary and in some cases tertiary boosters to then kick in and burn their own fuel.

The Soviet Union briefly managed to usurp the Saturn V’s record for being the cheapest rocket platform in the mid-1980s with its Zenit 2 medium-sized rocket, but the Zenit 2 was notoriously fault-ridden and it suffered a large number of errors and explosions, which made it less than ideal for most use-cases.

The Long March 3B, built by the Chinese in the mid-1990s got close to the Saturn V’s cost-efficiency record, managing about $6,200 per kg, but it wasn’t until 2010 that a true usurper to that cost-efficiency crown arrived on the scene in the shape of the Falcon 9, built by US-based private space company SpaceX.

The Falcon 9 was also notable, in part, because it was partially reusable from the beginning: it had a somewhat rocky start, and if the US government hadn’t been there to keep giving SpaceX contracts as it worked through its early glitches, the Falcon 9 may not have survived to become the industry-changing product that it eventually became, but once it got its legs under it and stopped blowing up all the time, the Falcon 9 showed itself capable of carrying payloads of around 15,000 pounds, which is just over 7000 kgs into orbit using a two-stage setup, and remarkably, and this also took a little while to master, but SpaceX did eventually make it common enough to be an everyday thing, the Falcon 9’s booster, which decouples from the rocket after the first stage of the launch, can land, vertically, intact and ready for refurbishment.

That means these components, which are incredibly expensive, could be reused rather than discarded, as had been the case with every other rocket throughout history. And again, while it took SpaceX some time to figure out how to make that work, they’ve reached a point, today, where at least one booster has been used 22 times, which represents an astonishing savings for the company, which it’s then able to pass on to its customers, which in turn allows it to outcompete pretty much everyone else operating in the private space industry, as of the second-half of 2024.

The cost to lift stuff into orbit using a Falcon 9 is consequently something like $2,700 per kg, about half of what the Saturn V could claim for the same.

SpaceX is not the only company using reusable spacecraft, though.

Probably the most well-known reusable spacecraft was NASA’s Space Shuttle, which was built by Rockwell International and flown from the early 1980s until 2011, when the last shuttle was retired.

These craft were just orbiters, not really capable of sending anyone or anything beyond low Earth orbit, and many space industry experts and researchers consider them to be a failure, the consequence of bureaucratic expediency and NASA budget cuts, rather than solid engineering or made-for-purpose utility—but they did come to symbolize the post-Space Race era in many ways, as while the Soviet, and then the successor Russian space program continued to launch rockets in a more conventional fashion, we didn’t really see much innovation in this industry until SpaceX came along and started making their reusable components, dramatically cutting costs and demonstrating that rockets capable of carrying a lot of stuff and people could be made and flown at a relatively low cost, and we thus might be standing at the precipice of a new space race sparked by private companies and cash-strapped government agencies that can, despite that relatively lack of resources, compared to the first space race, at least, can still get quite a bit done because of those plummeting expenses.

What I’d like to talk about today is a reusable spacecraft being made by another well-known aerospace company, but one that has had a really bad decade or so, and which is now suffering the consequences of what seems to have been a generation of bad decisions.

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Boeing is a storied, sprawling corporation that builds everything from passenger jets to missiles and satellites.

It’s one of the US government’s primary defense contractors, and it makes about half of all the commercial airliners on the planet.

Boeing has also, in recent years, been at the center of a series of scandals, most of them tied to products that don’t work as anticipated, and in some cases which have failed to work in truly alarming, dangerous, and even deadly ways.

I did a bonus episode on Boeing back in January of this year, so I won’t go too deep into the company’s history or wave of recent problems, but the short version is that although Boeing has worked cheek-to-jowl with the US and its allies’ militaries since around WWII, and was already dominating aspects of the burgeoning airline industry several decades before that, it merged with a defense contractor called McDonnell Douglas in the late-1990s, and in the early 2000s it began to reorganize its corporate setup in such a way that financial incentives began to influence its decision-making more than engineering necessities.

In other words, the folks in charge of Boeing made a lot of money for themselves and for many of their shareholders, but those same decisions led to a lot of inefficiencies and a drop in effectiveness and reliability throughout their project portfolio, optimizing for the size of their bank account and market cap, rather than the quality of their products, basically.

Consequently, their renowned jetliners, weapons offerings, and space products began to experience small and irregular, but then more sizable and damaging flaws and disruptions, probably the most public of which was the collection of issues built into their 737 MAX line of jets, two of which crashed in 2018 and 2019, killing 346 people and resulting in the grounding of 387 of their aircraft.

A slew of defects were identified across the MAX line by 2020, and an investigation by the US House found that employee concerns, reported to upper-management, went ignored or unaddressed, reinforcing the sense that the corporate higher-ups were disconnected from the engineering component of the company, and that they were fixated almost entirely on profits and their own compensation, rather than the quality of what they were making.

All of which helps explain what’s happening with one of Boeing’s key new offerings, a partially reusable spacecraft platform called the Starliner.

The Starliner went into early development in 2010, when NASA asked companies like Boeing to submit proposals for a Commercial Crew Program that would allow the agency to offload some of its human spaceflight responsibilities to private companies in the coming decades.

One of the contract winners was SpaceX’s Crew Dragon platform, but Boeing also won a contract with its Starliner offering in 2014, which it planned to start testing in 2017, though that plan was delayed, the first unmanned Orbital Flight Test arriving nearly 3 years later, at the tail-end of 2019, and even then, the craft experienced all sorts of technical issues along the way, including weak parachute systems, flammable tape, and valves that kept getting stuck.

It was two more years before the company launched the second test flight, and there were more delays leading up to the Starliner’s first Crew Flight Test, during which it would carry actual humans for the first time.

That human-carrying flight launched on June 5 of 2024, and it carried two astronauts to the International Space Station—though it experienced thruster malfunctions on the way up, as it approached the ISS, and after several months of investigation, the Starliner capsule still attached to the Station all that time, it was determined that it was too risky for those tw