This issue isn’t so much his (or rather, Scaled Composites and their partners in the t/Space Consortium) lack of “experience with manned orbital flight” as it is their lack of experience in being the prime contractor on such a massive project. This is an enormous undertaking–on the same scale as the Apollo program or the Manhattan Project–and for better or worse, one major component of that is “systems engineering”; i.e. coordination, oversight, and the dreaded documentation. (And quite aside from the argument of whether the amount of paperwork required by NASA standards is necessary or not, it is the status quo with NASA and isn’t going to change…so any prime on the CEV and M2M has to be prepared to deal with it.)
If Burt Rutan wants to do things his own way, with minimal paperwork and documenation, I say good on ya, mate. But making a suborbital spaceplane, for which the prime fabrication and assembly is done by one company (the engines for SS1 and the control systems were subcontracted) is on an entirely different scale from developing a multistage, transorbital space-going vessel. It isn’t a linear increase in difficulty; every individual system multiplies the complexity, and those constraints and requirements have to be communicated and factored up and down the various chains. It isn’t as if each system is independent and can be plugged in seperately; every factor is a trade off between a number of issues, including weight, packaging, efficiency, reliability and redunancy, cost, et cetera.
I’m not saying that Rutan (or rather, his “team”) couldn’t build such a system, though I think that his fabled brilliance and self-promoted invunerability would suffer some hits as he goes through the same learning curve that NASA and its present contractors did in the 'Sixties, and I’m not going to argue that the mass of paperwork and documenation required by NASA is all necessary, but bear in mind that these documentation procedures weren’t (mostly) developed just by some desk-sitter with a hatred for leafy green things but rather in response to a need for traceability. It’s quite possible–converging on a locus of certainty–that these procedures could be significantly streamlined, but they can’t be dismissed. And whoever is going to manage this project is going to either have to cope with the current requirements of NASA or devote the effort to making a convincing argument for change (which, given NASA’s current conservativism, is a Sysiphean task if ever there was one).
This biggest problem, actually, with NASA isn’t the mass of paperwork, but rather their risk-adverse/risk-incognizant attitudes which have paradoxically both slowed program development AND lead to the Shuttle disasters. The cultural hazard-blindness that led to ignoring the (obvious and recognized) problems that led to the Challenger explosion are the same that resulting in Columbia’s catastrophic failure. Unfortunately, the root cause of part of this problem–the detrimental impact upon NASA as a whole and individual engineers and technicians who are even so bold as to acknowledge a problem–extends beyond NASA. They are held accountable for every failure or holdup since the days of William Proxmire, even if those delays are due to unforseen (and often unforseeable) technical hurdles. And so, it is better, career-wise and budget-wise, to remain head-in-sand. (Witness Linda Ham’s self-serving evasions as an example of this pervasive culture within NASA.)
A couple of other comments:
Tuckerfan, try not to be too jealous of scr4. The space program (and the aerospace industry in general) looks a lot sexier from outside than it does from within. Honestly (and this will no doubt come as a shock to you) the automotive industry is better coordinated, better run, and often more highly engineered and refined than the products that come out of the aerospace industry. You would be astonished at how ad hoc many of the engineering solutions in aerospace are. There’s some really advanced, cutting-edge materials science, controls theory, and computational fluids analysis done, for sure, but the vast bulk of the work is (as with any engineering projects) minutae and really boring details, up to and including arguments over nomenclature and what kind of formatting to use on the drawings. (I swear, if I get stuck in another argument over on-sheet vs. off-sheet bills, I’m going to draw blood.)
It also doesn’t bring in the babes. “Hey baby, come home with me. I’m a rocket scientist!” Nope, doesn’t work.
Also, regarding the funding of CEV and M2M: it’s not underfunded in the way in which the Shuttle was underfunded–that is, trying to cram every possible use into one reusable launch vehicle–but rather, underfunded in the sense that there isn’t enough money to even get this thing off the ground. The budget I’ve seen for this thing over a decade is less, in adjusted dollars, than what NASA spend in one peak year during Apollo. Mind you, we will be able to make use of some legacy information, so it’s not quite starting at the same point, but nonetheless, there just isn’t the kind of funding committment to guarantee progress. And from what we’ve seen lately, it doesn’t appear that Congress will, barring some kind of shift in public opinion (such as a newly energized space race), be willing to authorize additional monies they way they did during the Johnson Administration. My prognosis is that this program will die a quiet, strangled death with the coming of the next Presidential Administration.
This doesn’t bar private industry from engaging in their own development, of course, and hats off to Rutan or anyone else who can put together a group of investors and engineering concerns to make it happen. But I’ve got a nasty feeling that we’re going to be giving over the dominance of space to somebody in Asia. The (monetary) payoff for such a venture is a quarter century (or more) out, and American businesses barely look beyond the next fiscal quarter.
But I’ve no crystal ball, and my pessimistic view may be entirely bent. I sure hope so.
Stranger