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Our
scientific and cultural heritage is abundant, and the threats to it
are numerous—it is time to back up civilization. To do this we
will need to establish secure sanctuaries (think of the monasteries
of the Middle Ages) that preserve and update copies of the vital records
and articles needed for the conduct of our society.
Robert
Shapiro
Dear Mr.
President,
The finest
days of your administration thus far were the ones immediately after
September 11, when you rallied the spirits of this nation by your stand
against the terrorists, and the values that they stood for. You pointed
out, quite correctly, that their actions represented an attack against
civilization itself. But by raising the vision that our civilization
was an entity that both needed protection and was worthy of it, you
entered an arena of concern that extends far the particular threats
of Al Queda and Saddam Hussein. Within your lifetime, the fabric of
scientific information that underlies our technological society has
become much more richly embroidered, and at the same time much more
vulnerable. And its preservation is essential to the survival of our
advanced civilization and even of our species.
At the
time of your birth, in 1946, the scientific community was not yet generally
aware that our heredity is stored in sequences of "letters" within the
chemical called DNA. We now possess the complete DNA sequence for a
prototype human being, as well as a mouse, a simple plant, and a number
of other species. Each such sequence, or genome, contains millions to
billions of characters, far too many to be stored conveniently in books;
the data is kept within computers. The Chemical Abstracts Service had
been tabulating the literature of chemistry since 1907, but when you
were 11 years old, it established a Registry that systematically records,
classifies and renders available information about the hosts of organic
substances that exist naturally or have been created within laboratories.
The number of such registered substances has passed 20 million and is
growing by about 4,000 per day. Let us also note the endless reams of
computer instructions, and the hardware that executes them, that makes
possible the word processing instrument by which I am composing this
letter, and the Internet that allows me to send it off immediately.
No trace of these conveniences existed in 1946.
In the
mid-twentieth century, technical information was stored in books. The
most important works were duplicated in hundreds of libraries. A person
who wished access to the information need only walk in, locate the appropriate
volumes by use of a mechanical indexing system and thumb the pages to
the relevant material. In the future, the sheer volume and complexity
of the information will require digital storage on discs and tapes.
Apart
from questions concerning authorization and passwords, up to date hardware
and considerable familiarity with the software will be needed for access
to these materials. Computer storage of each document will be limited
to a few locations.
Such arrangements
may work well when our society is in a healthy state, but very little
provision is made for catastrophe. A number of different scenarios can
be envisaged which would eliminate electrical power, disrupt or destroy
networks, eliminate key personnel or otherwise prevent access to our
technological and cultural heritage by survivors. The immense legacy
of our civilization would be partly or wholly lost. Such catastrophes
have been listed by many writers—they include bio terrorism and
natural plagues, nuclear war, asteroid and comet collision, massive
and unexpected climate change, famine associated with civil disorders
and social collapse and others.
None of
these events is probable on its own, nor even taken together do they
represent the most likely course for the future. But we make no provision
for these possibilities, then we as a civilization are taking the position
of an author who does not choose to back up the novel he is typing on
his word processor, or the home owner who carries no insurance and does
not store his valuables in a secure cache far from his residence. Our
scientific and cultural heritage is abundant, and the threats to it
are numerous—it is time to back up civilization. To do this we
will need to establish secure sanctuaries (think of the monasteries
of the Middle Ages) that preserve and update copies of the vital records
and articles needed for the conduct of our society. As their interpretation
and reinstallation after a catastrophe would require hands-on human
expertise, we would need staffed settlements, rather that buried time
capsules. Such settlements would need to be remote enough to be immune
from the varied array of disasters that might afflict humanity, but
close enough top remain in direct contact, and to bring aid when appropriate.
Although
a network of Biosphere-like settlements in scattered locations on Earth
might be robust enough to weather most difficulties, there is a safer
bastion which would provide inspiration and a variety of types of technological
spin-off, in addition to its prime function of backing up civilization
on Earth. The construction of a lunar base dedicated to that purpose
would provide a superb goal for our newly-born century and millennium.
It would also provide needed purpose and continuation to one of the
great human achievements of your lifetime; the Apollo Program.
I have
sketched out a goal that extends in time far beyond few years possible
for one administration. The costs will require many years of investment,
with private contributions and international cooperation highly desirable.
The goals however could be embraced by you, and planning commenced,
at only moderate cost at the present time. What greater enhancements
of the concepts of Homeland Security and the war against terrorism could
there be, than to extend their protection to the preservation of civilization
itself, for the indefinite future.
Robert
Shapiro
Professor of Chemistry, New York University
Author of Origins;
The Human Blueprint; and Planetary Dreams.
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