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An indestructible dream
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Matthew Malowany
THE whole world has spent weeks, even months, talking about the expected demise of the Russian space station Mir. Many commentators have looked back to the station's past and gloated over its state of disrepair. Even many Russians consider it an ugly reminder that the word "former" has been placed before the nation's old label of "superpower".
Yet while it seems natural for patriots and lovers of space exploration to get emotional over the issue, it seems odd that it should have become a symbol of technological backwardness or a tragic fall from grace, rather than a symbol for what it is: a historic milestone in the evolution of humanity.
The story of Mir began in the 1970s. In the wake of the Apollo landings on the Moon, the "Space Race" between the US and what was then the USSR essentially ended, freeing both sides to set fresh goals and find new missions.
Where the US focused on the space shuttle program, the Soviet Union set the goal of creating the first permanently-manned outpost in space. This began with seven Salyut space stations, all of which burned up in the atmosphere once their missions were completed.
Finally, in 1986, came the launch of Mir. The design of this station was truly revolutionary. It included a special docking port which would allow several large modules to be attached, giving the station fantastic possibilities for future expansion. Up to that point, the one American and seven Soviet space stations had been launched like big steel cans, used for awhile, then thrown away. All the construction was done on the ground, not in space.
But Mir was different. It was designed with possibilities in mind. In many ways, it represented an achievement as great as the landings on the moon. After all, the Apollo program sent men to the moon then, having achieved that goal, the US essentially rested on its laurels. But Mir summed-up years of experience in living and working in space. It was not a go-there-and-come-back mission but a statement of philosophy to the heavens: humans are going to the stars, and going to stay.
Mir's launch, by coincidence, took place just a weeks after the US space shuttle Challenger exploded in mid-air, killing all seven on board. Until then, NASA had been mostly been using the shuttle as a kind of space "truck", delivering satellites to orbit.
Over its fifteen years of existence in space - many years longer than it was designed to be used - it served as home to 106 people. It was aboard Mir that an astonishing record for time spent in space was set: 747 days, easily long enough for a trip to Mars and back. Talbat Musabayev, who set that record, was actually aboard the station long enough to celebrate New Year's Eve three times.
In the last few years of the station's life, disasters struck the station: computer failures, oxygen generator failures, a fire, and even a collision with an unmanned supply craft. Yet somehow it continued functioning; clearly it was not a beat-up old jalopy, as some believe, but a tough, solidly-built and brilliantly-designed outpost.
But however well-built it may have been, human beings do not have the technology to build a space station that can survive the harsh conditions of space. Even the vaunted International Space Station - which, by the way, uses some components originally designed for the since-cancelled Mir2 space station - has an expected life span.
Mir has circled the earth close to 100,000 times. It has twinkled in our skies for 15 years. Its greatest accomplishment is the fact of its mere existence: it allowed humans to live in space, not merely to go and come back quickly like mice exploring a kitchen.
Mir's demise in fire should not be a source of anger or sadness, but pride, not just for Russians but all humanity. Mir was a whisper to the cosmos that our destiny lay in the stars.
Mir may be destroyed; our destiny will not.
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