Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void

“Space exploration is in some ways an exploration of what it means to be human. How much normalcy can people forego? For how long, and what does it do to them?”

One of Roach’s themes is that space exploration reveals just as much about humanity as it does about the cosmos. In crossing the boundaries of the Earth, astronauts also test the physical and psychological limits of human existence. The frontiers of space travel are both external and internal; Roach addresses the personal consequences of sleep deprivation, stress, exhaustion, depression, uncleanliness, motion sickness, confinement, and boredom—all of which strain an astronaut’s physical and mental well-being. By framing “normalcy” as a relative condition, Roach emphasizes that space exploration is not only an exercise in conditioning and adaptability, but also in sacrifice and suppression.

“In reality, maybe 1 percent of an astronaut’s career takes place in space, and 1 percent of that is done in a pressure suit […] Between flights, astronauts spend their days in meetings and on committees, speaking at schools and Rotary clubs, evaluating software and hardware, working at Mission Control, and otherwise, as they say, flying a desk.”

Roach’s research uncovers behind-the-scenes perspectives of space travel and addresses some of the myths about astronauts. Early popular representations often depicted astronauts as fearless, swaggering pilots. The reality of an astronaut’s job is less glamorous, but no less important: Astronauts are civil servants who perform duties like planning, training, writing reports, and engaging in outreach and professional development. The idiom “flying a desk” refers to office work performed by someone trained in aeronautics. Though the phrase may connote a demotion, Roach uses to the term to indicate how much work goes into preparing for space flights and supporting space research.

“Suppressing one’s feelings too tightly for too long takes a toll. You either explode or implode.”

Medical officer Shoichi Tachibana explains to Roach the limits of excessive deference and adaptability in an astronaut. During his observations of finalists in the JAXA isolation chambers, Tachibana found that individuals who did not complain enough were just as problematic as those who complained too much.

The over-appeasing astronaut is no better than the egotistical pilot astronaut. Astronauts must strike a balance between their willingness to adapt and their own self-interests. Tachibana’s comment points to Space Travel as a Lens on Human Nature. If astronauts deny themselves essential human emotions and needs while in space, they risk their mental health and the safety of their mission.

“The astronaut’s job is stressful for all the same reasons yours or mine is—overwork, lack of sleep, anxiety, other people—but two things compound the usual stresses: the deprivations of the environment and one’s inability to escape it.”

Roach identifies isolation and confinement as two conditions that can exasperate an astronaut’s experience in space. She describes the struggles of an astronaut’s job in relatable terms to elicit compassion for their ordeal in space. Exhaustion and stress are natural reactions, but the limited outlets astronauts have for coping can compound these feeling. A successful Mars mission depends not only on solving the problems of bone loss and radiation, but also on attending to mental health. Antarctic analogs may model the potential dangers of isolation on Mars, but researchers in Antarctica have the benefit of oxygen and gravity, whereas astronauts on Mars will have to cope with the most extreme forms of isolation and confinement in human history.

“‘The agencies try to keep the best image up, otherwise they don’t get funded anymore.’ What happens in the Habitable Module stays in the Habitable Module.”

NASA researcher Norbert Kraft explains to Roach the importance of public relations in space travel research. Kraft argues that if space agencies were to reveal all the internal struggles and conflicts of their organization, public support and confidence would wane. This is why astronauts who participated in the Mars500 simulation in Moscow for three months had nothing negative to say about their experience. To ensure a positive public image, the participants of the study also signed confidentiality agreements. Roach concludes that success in space depends on the ingenuity of engineers, the diligence of scientists, and a good publicist.

“He takes issue with the way space agencies portray astronauts as superhuman. ‘As if they don’t have any hormones, they don’t have any feelings for anybody.’ It comes back yet again to a fear of negative publicity and diminished funding.”

In his conversation with Roach, Norbert Kraft cautions against idealizing astronauts as “superhuman.” As a participant in the SFINCSS simulation that ended in a sexual harassment scandal, a fist fight, and one astronaut resigning, Kraft recognizes the importance of openly addressing the failings and difficulties of human behavior. If space agencies remain silent or minimize psychological and social disruptions, they risk ignoring efforts that can improve an astronaut’s welfare. Roach agrees with Kraft’s assessment, opening the book with the metaphor of humans as flawed machines that do not operate perfectly and predictably. Both Roach and Kraft insist on humanizing astronauts, despite the risk of negative publicity, to destigmatize psychological problems.

“People can’t anticipate how much they’ll miss the natural world until they are deprived of it […] Nothing tops space as a barren, unnatural environment.”

The void of space can heighten the experience of life on Earth. In addition to the significant lack of gravity and oxygen, space is a sterile setting that contrasts with Earth’s fertile and sensory-rich environment. Russian cosmonauts described longing for walks on the grass, plant life, and the smell of perfume. Space travel offers the unique chance to re-evaluate life on Earth and recognize common experiences with profound appreciation.

“For seventeen years, only men worked the research bases in Antarctica. Women, the excuses went, mean trouble: distraction, promiscuity, jealousy. It wasn’t until 1974 that the McMurdo Station winter-over personnel included women. One was a spinster biologist in her fifties who appears in photographs wearing a gold cross over her turtleneck. The other was a nun.”

In her discussion of institutional sexism in space travel, Roach draws comparisons with the history of all-male research teams in Antarctica. The exclusion of women relied on the belief that they inherently stir up trouble as sexual objects. The first women permitted on Antarctic bases were those characterized as sexless. The onus of sexual propriety fell on women and justified their exclusion. Roach’s timeline notes it wasn’t until January 1978 that the US included the first female astronaut candidate.

“It is a moment that, to me anyway, signals the birth of American space exploration. It captures both the geeky excitement and the hand-wringing uncertainty over what might befall a human organism shot to the edges of the known world. Space was an environment in which no one and nothing on Earth had evolved, or, for all the scientists then knew, could survive.”

Roach considers the proposal to launch the first primate into space as a defining moment in space exploration. She remarks on the enthusiasm between David Simons and James Henry, the two scientists responsible for the Albert missions that sent rhesus monkeys in space. In the 1940s, the prospect of sending a man to the moon was exciting and novel. Human space travel was already a staple of science fiction, and the Albert projects promised to transform the dream of exploring space into a reality. The decision to send monkeys before men also highlights intense anxiety over the unknown effects of low gravity on the human body. For Roach, the duality of excitement and fear is an essential characteristic of space travel and is just as potent today in considerations of a mission to Mars.

“Like war, space is a formidable bogeyman that takes its victims no matter how carefully you what-if the situation. You can’t control the weather or gravity, but you can control the shoes your visitor wears and the amount of water that drips onto the floor from her umbrella.”

Roach uses the analogy of war to describe the unpredictable dangers involved in space travel. No amount of strategizing can secure human safety or survival. However, calling space a “bogeyman” instead of an enemy emphasizes the almost monstrous unknowability of space. What humans understand about space is mostly theories and not experience. Roach uses the metaphor to explain the seemingly excessive safety measures at the Johnson Space Center: Preventing known hazards, however minor, is a method to combat the mystery of space’s potential dangers.

“Vile as it is, the act of vomiting deserves your respect. It’s an orchestral event of the gut, complex and seamlessly coordinated.”

Roach discovers that vomiting in space is a stigma for most astronauts, who consider it a sign of weakness or cause for embarrassment. During the Apollo era, astronauts denied throwing up to avoid the label “weenies” (120) or hide from doctors who could ground them. In contrast, Roach argues that vomiting is nothing to be ashamed of and is a natural response to space motion sickness. She elevates the body’s physiological complexity and contests the notion that because vomiting is an involuntary act, it somehow makes a person a liability.

“Rather than seeming gruesome, the scene had a comfortable, familial feel, like a family stringing lights on the Christmas tree. I was struck by how at ease the students were. To them, the cadaver seemed to inhabit an in-between category of existence: less than a person, but more than a piece of tissue.”

Roach regards NASA’s use of cadavers in crash tests as a shift in cultural attitudes about the dead. For researchers engaged in impact studies, the goal of saving lives outweighs the taboo of handling corpses. She uses the simile of stringing holiday lights to describe the relatively casual manner in which researchers wired a cadaver. However, the taboo isn’t entirely absent: Roach details her difficulty at getting the public affairs office to consent to her visit. She uses the incident to examine the ways that space travel challenges or observes taboos, and reveals what a culture deems as appropriate.

“‘It is sincerely believed,’ wrote Cord and Seale, ‘that capable and qualified people could be found to volunteer for the mission even if the return possibilities were nil.’ I believe it. There are astronauts today who happily would sign on for a one-way mission to Mars. This scenario holds no eventual return trip. Rather, the crew would live out the rest of their lives with help from unmanned resupply landers.”

A 1962 proposal from Bell Aerosystems scientists John Cord and Leonard Seale suggested a one-way trip to the moon, clarifying that a following mission would pick up the astronaut left on the moon after a few years. Roach is not surprised by the proposal or the idea that people would volunteer for such an expedition without the guarantee of a return. NASA has never considered the proposal for a one-way trip to the moon or Mars. However, Roach uses the example as evidence of the resilient appeal of space travel.

“The Cold War has ended, and the goals of space exploration are ostensibly grounded in science. There are those who argue that the science is more effectively—or cost-effectively, at least—carried out by robotic landers. And that the main reason to employ humans in space exploration and planetary science is to maintain the public’s interest and support. As the saying goes, ‘No bucks without Buck Rogers.’”

Roach explains that the space race was more politically than scientifically motivated and points to the predominance of military pilots rather than scientists in the Apollo missions. Since the end of the Cold War, space travel has focused on the roles astronauts and robotics play in acquiring and promoting scientific knowledge, contending that since robots are more efficient, humans should primarily garner public support for NASA’s achievements. She alludes to Buck Rogers, the comic strip that ran from the late 1920s to the late 1960s, with later adaptations in radio, film, and television. Rogers embodied the all-American space hero, and NASA to some extent still relies on the image of American patriotism in its astronauts.

“‘If your goal is to answer very specific questions like, How hard are the rocks on the surface of Mars? a robot is perfect. If your questions are bigger, like, What is the history of Mars? well, that’s a hell of a lot of robots,’ says Ralph Harvey, a planetary geologist who has helped plan research expeditions on the moon. ‘But it could be only one or two human beings. Because human beings have this amazing tool called intuition, where they’ve built up a catalogue of experiences and they can draw on it instantaneously and spend one minute looking at a scene—whether it’s on Mars or at a crime scene—and know what happened here.’”

To underscore that the human element is essential rather than simply promotional, Ralph Harvey emphasizes the capacity for intuition as the important distinction between humans and machines. Harvey defines intuition as the ability to draw from experiences and create a narrative that explains cause and effect. He uses the analogy of a detective at a crime scene to describe a scientist’s skills at deduction. Packing for Mars was published in 2010 and does not address the rise of artificial intelligence and machine learning, two technologies that NASA now employs: According to NASA’s Earthdata website, “AI and ML can be used to sift through years of data and imagery rapidly and efficiently to find relationships that would be impossible (or too time-consuming) for a human to detect” (“Earth Observation Data and Artificial Intelligence,” earthdata.nasa.gov). Nevertheless, Roach’s research acknowledges how innovations and even different presidencies can alter the role of astronauts and the space program. Space exploration is an ever-evolving enterprise. 

“Outer space is list world: cuff checklists, lunar surface checklists, lists of mission rules and ‘get-ahead tasks.’ Morning in orbit begins with a fax or email of the day’s schedule and tasks, updated with last-minute changes. Any deviation must be reported to Mission Control. Outside of the hour or two designated as ‘pre-sleep,’ every waking hour is planned.”

During her visit to the Haughton-Mars Project on Devon Island, Roach marveled at the detail and planning of the expedition simulations, down to the timing of each task. She compares her team’s duties to the ones assigned on Apollo missions and remarks on how much activities are micromanaged. From the scientists’ perspective, the drills provide opportunities to anticipate and solve problems before sending astronauts into the isolated depths of space. However, the degree of management leaves many astronauts feeling resentment at the lack of autonomy. Roach’s description of space as “list world” emphasizes that the job of an astronaut entails rote tasks. The adventure of space exploration requires the tedium of duties that ensure the astronauts’ safety and the mission’s productivity.

“Personal hygiene as practiced in the US today is largely a cultural fetish, actively promoted by those with commercial interests. In space, as in the military, bathing is more an issue of morale than of health.”

In her chapter on hygiene in space, Roach examines many experiments conducted to keep astronauts clean and healthy during prolonged missions. To her surprise, several studies reported that skin is healthiest after several days of not washing. Roach considers whether the desire to bathe or shower regularly may depend more on a cultural definition of cleanliness rather than a clinical one. Hygiene may also be a matter of marketing. For astronauts, hygiene is related to morale. The ability to change out of dirty clothes or wash one’s body after consecutive days, weeks, or months in a spacecraft provides astronauts with a necessary sense of relief and refreshment from their cramped environment.

“When you get right down to it, nothing works particularly well. Calcium’s a bust. To a certain extent, so is exercise […] ‘The state of the art for countermeasures right now,’ John Charles allowed, ‘is the same as it was forty years ago.’ The astronauts don’t care. ‘They want to go to Mars,’ says Charles. ‘That’s what they joined the program for.’”

Former NASA Chief Scientist John Charles explains that the problems of surviving on Mars still plague scientists after 40 years. In particular, issues around bone density loss and radiation remain obstacles. However, the health dangers have not deterred astronauts from their desire to explore the Red Planet. Mars is an irresistible destination and a test to the limitations of the human body.

“Like senators and presidents, astronauts are highly visible public servants. Sexual missteps and other breaches of moral etiquette are not easily forgiven. There would be headlines. Public outrage. Funding cuts. An astronaut knows this. Even if word of a zero-gravity hookup never made it past the ears of NASA, the parties involved would never fly again.”

Roach theorizes that another reason for NASA’s reticence to discuss sex in space is optics. Astronauts are role models backed by government dollars. They are keenly aware that any activity that strays from the public’s sense of propriety threatens their livelihood. Sex is considered a private and personal activity, and astronauts are continuously in public at their workplace while in space. The objection may not necessarily be to sex itself, but to having sex on the job.

“Sponsoring extreme athletes is Red Bull’s way of telling the world that the brand stands not just for caffeinated pop, but for, as the press releases say, ‘pushing limits’ and ‘making the impossible happen.’ Teenage boys with little hope of becoming pro skateboarders or record-breaking BASE jumpers can nonetheless drink the drink and feel the feeling. NASA might do well to adopt the Red Bull approach to branding and astronautics. Suddenly the man in the spacesuit is not an underpaid civil servant; he’s the ultimate extreme athlete. Red Bull knows how to make space hip.”

With the era of the swaggering pilot astronaut in the past, Roach offers the extreme athlete as a substitute to bring back NASA’s allure. Space travel in its early years resembled extreme sports. In the competitive backdrop of the Cold War, the measure of a space agency’s success was determined by breaking records and being “first.” Roach contends that space travel, like any enterprise, also benefits from attracting publicity and branding itself as youthful and relevant.

“A successful zero-gravity toilet is a subtle finessing of engineering, materials science, physiology, psychology, and etiquette […] if just one element is missing, things don’t come out right. And few other technical failures have the power to so reliably and drastically compromise a crew’s well-being.”

In Roach’s chapter on waste management, she hails the invention of the zero-gravity toilet as one of the lesser-known achievements of space technology. The toilet, with its mundane scatological connotations, seems an unlikely product for a technological breakthrough. However, Roach examines the complex mechanics behind successful “separation,” NASA’s euphemism for expelling solid waste. Systems of air pumps, positioning cameras, and transport tubes facilitate using a toilet as one would on Earth. Unlike other bodily functions, defecating in space entails several taboos, such as handling feces and indecent exposure. Roach contends that toilet design can improve morale by allowing astronauts to perform a natural function without embarrassment or discomfort.

“It’s puréed. All tubed food is, because, as Charles Bourland put it, ‘the texture is limited to the orifice of the tube.’ The very first space food was essentially baby food. But even babies get to eat off spoons. Mercury astronauts had to suckle theirs from an aluminum orifice. It wasn’t heroic at all.”

Roach uses the metaphor of suckling to describe how some forms of astronaut training border on infantilization. In their new low-gravity environments, they need to learn to walk, eat, and use the toilet. At the JAXA isolation chambers, astronaut finalists seem like schoolchildren learning how to get along with others. The comparison to children emphasizes how completely foreign life in space is and how simple activities need to be relearned: Astronauts are humble learners who are not above less-than-“heroic” adaptations and training sessions.

“Maybe astronauts aren’t just expensive action figures. Maybe they’re the poster boys and girls for the new environmental paradigm. As Gormly says, ‘Sustain-ability engineering and human spaceflight engineering are just different sides of the same technology.’”

Instead of the gutsy pilot or extreme sports athlete, Roach offers a third image for the contemporary astronaut: the environmentalist. In her discussions with waste management engineer Sherwin Gormly, she learns that many of the problem-solving sessions for a mission to Mars require tackling sustainability. With the proposed duration of two to three years on Mars, scientists and engineers must manage food, water, air, shelter, and trash. In sustaining life in the farthest and most barren setting where no human has ever been before, Roach hopes that the technology for Mars will find a purpose on Earth.