by Mark Stewart, FBIS and Richard Hayes, FBIS
Editorial Team
Odyssey – the Science Fiction, Space Art and Cultural Magazine of the British Interplanetary Society
Spaceships of the mind – the BIS explained
Ground zero for the future
Just outside Vauxhall Station, almost lost beneath the elevated platforms of that busy terminal, is a building which more rightly belongs in Houston, Texas, or at Cape Canaveral in Florida, than it does in a slightly run-down, almost forgotten corner of London. For this building, which houses the offices of the British Interplanetary Society (BIS), has been the launch site for many ‘spaceships of the mind’, the starting point for numerous voyages of exploration out into deep space. To this day it remains the birthplace of ideas and concepts that seem almost borrowed from the future. It is the spiritual home of a generation which still believes in President Kennedy’s assertion (made back in 1961) that “space achievement…may hold the key to our future on Earth;” and of a younger generation now pinning its hopes on the commercialisation of spaceflight, on opening up the High Frontier for all. It is, in short, the place to go if you can’t take your eyes off the stars.
First to the Moon
The BIS has done much in recent years to shrug off its once slightly stuffy image, the suggestion that the membership consists of potting-shed rocketeers, dreaming of lunar glory on their allotments, latter-day Cavors (the absent minded professor from H. G. Wells’ The First Men in the Moon) devising eccentric and impractical ways to reach orbit. These days the membership consists of a more youthful and pragmatic type of dreamer. But then, in truth, it always did. That’s how the BIS came up with working designs for lunar landers and habitats in space decades before such ideas became a reality. The BIS crossed the finishing line in the race to devise many visionary concepts and few ever noticed. Like Chuck Yeager breaking the Sound Barrier it was all done almost in secret, away from public view, hidden from the gaze of a populace that might not have believed such things were possible. Look closely at the history of this “rocket society,” the only one still in its original form, and you will see a remarkable heritage that stretches from the 1930s all the way to modern endeavours such as Project Daedalus, which drew up blueprints for nothing less than a working starship.
Space advocates
In the post-War years (after Wernher von Braun had made the long range, ballistic potential of the rocket an all-too-terrifying reality for many Londoners), the BIS played a pivotal role in altering the climate of public opinion, making the advocacy of spaceflight respectable by providing an authoritative source of information on the coming Space Age. It was the voice of a learned society unafraid to champion radical notions. When rockets, real and imaginary, were just beginning to take to the sky, their vapour trails as yet visible to only a few, the pages of the society’s journal were packed with seminal, visionary articles on every aspect of rocket travel and space exploration; papers with titles such as The Problem of Interplanetary Propulsion (1946); Interplanetary Man (1948); The Atomic Rocket (1948); The Simulation of Gravity (1957); and Relativity and Space Travel (1958). As ever, it took reality a while to catch up with the BIS. In fact, not until the Apollo Moon landings could it be argued that reality had finally overtaken the BIS, perhaps for the first time in its history.
Stargazers
In a very real sense anyone who belongs to the BIS is a stargazer. It’s impossible to plan journeys into space (conceptual or otherwise) without peering deep into the heavens, without studying the target destination with all the dedication and precision that only an astronomer can bring to bear. Such ground-based celestial navigation was at the heart of the effort that is still perhaps the society’s most famous undertaking, Project Daedalus: a theoretical design study that set out the requirements for sending a spacecraft to Barnard’s Star, a red dwarf star six light years from Earth. It was all done back in the 1970s by three men who perhaps belonged more rightly to a future age. Daedalus typifies what the BIS does best in providing a home, a meeting point, for those undaunted by the ‘challenge of the stars’. The society’s focus on translating imagination into reality is what sets it apart, concentrating the collective talents of its diverse membership on some of the hardest problems in space engineering. The BIS think-tank is essentially a magnifying glass held over the hidden minutiae of future possibilities. As an aspiration it might seem like trying to catch the wind, were it not for the society’s proven history that includes detailed concepts and artistic designs not just for Daedalus but for a Moon-ship, a lunar rover, a lunar mono-rail, the mechanics of orbital rendezvous and a functioning spacesuit. As well as laying the groundwork for the exploration of the Moon years before NASA got there, the BIS has also left virtual footprints on Mars in the shape of Project Boreas (conducted between 2003–2006), which mapped out the requirements for setting up a research base at the planet’s north pole. The aims of this international effort, co-ordinated by Professor Charles Cockell (Edinburgh University), mirrored those of the BIS itself, as Cockell has suggested. “Project Boreas took the traditions of polar exploration on the Earth and extrapolated them to planning the future of human exploration on other worlds,” he says.
Giants of their field
Two figures tower over the history of the BIS, both of whom were early members of the society: one was arguably the most famous astronomer in the world, the other a man once described by The New Yorker as “one of the truly prophetic figures of the Space Age… the colossus of science fiction.” They are, of course, Patrick Moore and Arthur C. Clarke, who met through the very society that did so much to inspire and encourage them both. Patrick often recounted his initial meeting with the man who would go on to invent the concept of the geosynchronous satellite. “The BIS was founded in 1933. I joined in 1952. Arthur Clarke was also a member and he came up to me and shook my hand at my first meeting… and we struck up an immediate friendship that lasted the rest of our lives.” And it’s worth remembering that Patrick was also the first editor of SpaceFlight magazine.
Between them, Arthur and Patrick produced enough best-selling books to fill a library (quite literally in the case of the BIS library), books which are still being read today; books that will never lose their attraction. Such an enduring appeal is the closest thing to immortality any writer can hope for. Before he passed away, Patrick often hosted summer picnics for Society members at his delightful home in Selsey, demonstrating just how generous and unassuming the great astronomer was.
Arthur set the agenda for the literary exploration of space as long ago as the 1950s in books such as Interplanetary Flight (1950) and The Exploration of Space (1951), as well as mapping out a way to the planets and the stars in his award winning fiction. The BIS H/Q is named after Arthur, who joined the Society at the age of sixteen and supported it throughout his life. His portrait greets visitors on their arrival. The inscription reads: “To the British Interplanetary Society with all good wishes: Arthur C. Clarke, Colombo, 21 September ‘85.” Arthur was an Honorary Fellow of the BIS, a rare accolade bestowed on only a handful of members. He was Chairman of the BIS between 1947-50 and again in 1953 and his earliest non-fiction appeared in the Society’s journal in the 1940s and 50s. He was also a generous financial benefactor of the Society.
Join us
The British Interplanetary Society welcomes everyone from space cadets to science fiction fans, from aerospace and science students to those working professionally in the space industry, academics and media figures, or anyone with an enthusiasm for space travel. Members gain access to events and talks, as well as gaining access to the Society’s four amazing publications: SpaceFlight, our scientific journal JBIS, our history periodical Space Chronicle, and our arts and culture magazine, Odyssey.
There will always be a corner of south-west London, close by Vauxhall Station, which welcomes stargazers and would-be space travellers of all descriptions and of all ages. If you haven’t been there yet, come and visit a Society in which the excitement of spaceflight never really pales. All are welcome.
