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Is Space Travel Worth It? Weighing the Costs, Risks and Rewards

Posted byDianaGuzueva

The James Webb Space Telescope cost NASA close to ten billion dollars, arrived years late, and at one point came near to cancellation in Congress. It is now probably the most productive observatory ever built. Mars Sample Return, by contrast, saw its price estimate climb to somewhere between eight and eleven billion dollars in an independent review in 2023, and the agency has been struggling ever since to find a cheaper way to do it. Ask whether space travel is worth it and you are really asking about cases like these, one at a time. The space travel benefits are real. So are the bills.

What the money actually buys

It helps to put the numbers in scale first. NASA’s budget runs at around 25 billion dollars a year, which is less than half of one percent of US federal spending. At the height of Apollo in the mid-1960s, the share was several times larger. A flagship planetary mission like Curiosity costs about 2.5 billion dollars spread across a decade or more of design, building and operations. Expensive, yes, but not the budget-eating monster it is sometimes imagined to be.

What that money buys is mostly data that cannot be had any other way. You cannot measure the magnetic field of Jupiter from your backyard. You cannot sample the chemistry of a comet with a ground-based telescope, or read the layered rocks of an ancient Martian lakebed through an atmosphere and 200 million kilometres of distance. Some questions require you to go, or at least to send something.

Why it costs so much

People sometimes assume space is expensive because of the rockets. The launch is part of it, and reusable boosters have cut that part noticeably over the past decade. Most of the cost, though, sits in the years before launch.

A planetary spacecraft gets one chance. It has to survive the shaking of a launch, then years of radiation, deep cold and hard sunlight, then perhaps a landing nobody can rehearse on the real surface. There is no mechanic. Every part is tested, retested, and tested again in the configuration it will fly in, and every instrument is usually one of a kind. That kind of reliability is slow to build and it is staffed by large teams of specialists for a long time. A few hundred million dollars here or there is often the cost of not cutting the corner that would have killed the mission.

The losses are part of the ledger

Not everything works. In 1999 NASA lost the Mars Climate Orbiter because one team’s software reported thrust in imperial pound-force seconds while another expected metric newton-seconds. The spacecraft dipped too low into the Martian atmosphere and was gone. Mars Polar Lander vanished a few months later. Britain’s Beagle 2 went silent on Christmas Day 2003, and was only spotted on the surface in 2015, partly unfolded, in images from a NASA orbiter. ESA’s Schiaparelli lander crashed in 2016 after a sensor glitch convinced its computer it was already on the ground.

Those failures cost money and years of careers. They also changed how missions are built: unit checks, independent reviews, more testing of the software that handles the last minutes of a landing. Perseverance’s precise touchdown in Jezero crater in 2021 sat on top of decades of earlier mistakes.

Crewed flight carries a heavier kind of risk. The loss of Challenger in 1986 and Columbia in 2003 killed fourteen astronauts between them. Any honest discussion of whether space travel is worth it has to include that, and not as a footnote.

Robots or people?

For most science, robots win on cost. A rover does not need air, food or a ride home. Ingenuity, the small helicopter that rode to Mars with Perseverance, was planned as a five-flight technology demonstration. It flew 72 times before a damaged rotor grounded it in early 2024. Robotic explorers keep surprising their builders in exactly this way, and they do it at a fraction of the cost of sending a crew.

People bring something robots still cannot. When Hubble reached orbit in 1990 with a mirror ground to slightly the wrong shape, it was astronauts on a shuttle mission in December 1993 who installed the corrective optics, and later crews kept upgrading the telescope for nearly two decades. On the Moon, Apollo geologists could spot an odd rock, walk over and decide on the spot what to collect. Human spaceflight also teaches us about humans: the NASA Twins Study, comparing Scott Kelly after almost a year on the International Space Station with his brother Mark on the ground, showed how the body changes during long missions. That matters if anyone ever goes to Mars.

So the real question is rarely robots versus astronauts. It is which job, at what price, with what risk.

Not every trip needs a landing

Some of the best value comes from spacecraft that never touch anything. In December 1995 Hubble spent about ten days staring at a tiny, apparently empty patch of sky near the Big Dipper. The result, the Hubble Deep Field, showed around three thousand galaxies, many of them seen as they were billions of years ago. Nobody could have justified that observation with a spreadsheet beforehand, and it changed how astronomers think about the early universe. Infrared telescopes like JWST go further, because water vapour in our own atmosphere blocks much of that light from the ground. Above the air, the sky simply looks different.

One of the most underrated returns of space science is how long the data keep paying. Kepler stopped observing in 2018, and planets are still being found in its archive by researchers and volunteers using methods that did not exist when the light was collected. Hubble’s archive gets mined constantly by people who never wrote a proposal for the telescope. A spacecraft can die while the dataset it produced stays productive for decades.

Even negative results count. If a promising environment turns out sterile, that tells astrobiologists something about how hard it is for life to start. The search for life cannot be judged only by whether it finds something next year.

Spin-offs, with a caveat

Satellite weather forecasting, global navigation, and much of modern remote sensing grew out of space programs. Engineering for vacuum, radiation and autonomy produces people and tools that end up in other industries. Those are genuine space travel benefits, but they are not the best argument for any particular mission. Almost any hard, well-funded engineering challenge throws off useful by-products. The stronger case is the science itself: questions about planets, climate, origins and life that nothing else can answer.

So is it worth it?

Sometimes. That sounds evasive, but it is the most accurate answer. A mission is worth its price when it asks a question that matters, cannot be answered more cheaply, has a credible plan to work, and accepts its risks with open eyes. JWST cleared that bar despite its overruns. Some proposed missions have not, and were cut or redesigned, which is how the system is supposed to work. Treating all space travel as automatically good is as lazy as treating it all as waste. The useful habit is to ask what each mission is for, and to judge space travel benefits mission by mission rather than in the abstract.

If you enjoy arguing about which missions earn their keep, the readers of SETIworld do it regularly, and the portal has plenty more on the spacecraft, telescopes and searches that are flying right now.

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