An Act of Desperation
To the casual observer, it can certainly seem odd that two nations, which between them had launched a grand total of one satellite, would agree to do something as ambitious as landing astronauts on the Moon. With the benefit of hindsight, the treaty signed by Harold Macmillan and Charles de Gaulle in July 1963 could only have been signed in the early-middle years of the 1960s. Any earlier, and the technology needed to achieve its goals would have looked far beyond the reach of any nation. Much later, and the national and political imperatives to commit to such a strange and wonderful idea would have faded.
1963 has since proven to be a vintage year for conspiracy theories. The “Selene Bubble” is one of them; alleging that there was a co-ordinated set of contrived co-incidences in the nature and timing of events in the months leading up to the formation of the Project. According to those who believe in such things, it was all too good to be true. While they might make for entertaining films, most conspiracy theories (and certainly that one) are just that: Theories.
In practice, sometimes, coincidences happen and actions that seem odd today looked like good ideas at the time.
The Project was formed out of both hope and desperation, and even if it were to be cancelled later on (and there were many who thought it would be), in the summer of 1963 it suited almost everyone’s needs.
Britain’s fledgling civil space programme received an immense boost, not just in funding but in prestige; it was no longer just a joke, a “bunch of boffins launching tin cans into outer space…” The satellite TV relay programme had the support of the GPO, the Foreign Office and the MoD, but its most powerful ally was the BBC and through them, much of the TV-viewing public. Although Selene would not directly contribute to the relay satellites themselves, it would help expand the industry that would build them and guarantee the future of the rockets needed to launch them.
Many in the military and the firms involved with Britain’s Black Anvil missile programme supported Selene. Having an additional use for “their” rockets could help guarantee the future of the missile, by making it very difficult to cancel without disrupting both civil and military programmes. Selene would also help make the deterrent more reliable; The Project would launch dozens of probes and test flights, every one of which would be a chance to gather flight data and improve on the design of Blue Streak or Black Anvil.
It suited the British government. Aside from serving as a short-term distraction from an economic slowdown and political scandal, it made strategic sense. Without a major new defence or civil aviation programme, the future of Britain’s surviving aerospace firms looked very uncertain.
At the time, all that was left for Hawker-Siddeley was the P.1127 VTOL development programme and Blue Streak production (which was scheduled to end within a couple of years). Having failed to agree a deal to build an SST and with the prospect of a high-speed bomber contract for the RAF looking increasingly remote, BAC’s entire future depended on the development of Black Anvil and the small “1-11” jet airliner.
It was believed that the cost of supporting these firms (in other words: nationalising them) would be much the same as the contracts needed to keep them in business doing something useful. Having a world-class, privately owned aerospace industry for the same price as a moribund state-owned one was an easy decision for a Conservative government. Of course, it was popular with the owners too.
In France, the reasons were more nationalistic but equally pragmatic. The nation was seeking to move on from the memories of defeat in war, retreat in Indo-China and Algeria and the collapse of the French government. General de Gaulle was President of a “new France”, a proud nation with a booming economy, determined to take a leading role in world affairs.
The development of the French aerospace industry was one of the government’s top priorities. Research into nuclear weapons had produced a workable A-bomb based deterrent and a long range missile programme had been underway for some time. However, it was accepted that this would benefit greatly from the years of practical experience already acquired by British engineers. Earlier attempts to achieve outright Anglo-French cooperation in missile development had failed due to British indifference, French suspicion and the nature of Anglo-American agreements. Now, both countries would work together in the civil space sector; and a lot of technology and experience would naturally be passed on to French engineers.
From the strategic perspective, both nations had an eye on the future of warfare and the balance of power. Both the USA and USSR were actively engaged in lunar programmes. The “unspoken purpose” of the Selene Project was to ensure that Britain and France were not entirely left behind in the race to reach (and by implication, perhaps, control) the Moon. If future deterrents were to be placed in space, or if the Moon were to become a proxy battleground for the great powers of Earth, then all non-spacefaring nations could easily become irrelevant.
However, Selene was not going to be an all-out military research programme. It would be a steady, resource-limited technology development project, starting with “simple” Earth-orbit satellites and eventually reaching the Moon. Nominally, this would be achieved within 10 years, by which time it might be necessary to extend the Project towards other goals. It certainly wasn’t going to be a race with anyone; both nations assumed that both the USA and USSR would reach the Moon before them, possibly even by 1970. The Soviets led the world when it came to rocket launch capacity, while America seemed willing and able to pour vast amounts of money into their lunar plans. NASA’s budget would be the equivalent of £900M in 1963/4 (of which about £500M would be spent on the lunar program).
By contrast, joint funds allocated directly to Selene over the first year would be £42M, although this was expected to rise to well over £100M in subsequent years. Although such sums were large by Anglo-French standards, this relatively tiny budget seemed realistic, as Selene would rely on developments elsewhere in the industry (such as the availability of the Black Anvil rocket).
Within a fortnight, "The Selene Project", a hurriedly produced book containing details of what will be accomplished and when, goes on sale in both French and English. Despite being a short, semi-technical and legal document, it sells well as it offers the public their first insights into the Project, including a list of plans, dates and major milestones to be achieved:
1963-4 - Develop initial designs for the various missions and types of spacecraft, to be finalised by 1965.
1965 – First of a set of joint Earth orbit satellites, to be built in France and launched on Blue Star.
1966 - First of a series of unmanned lunar orbit satellites which will photograph the surface, to be called "Lunar Orbiter" (British built).
1967 - First of a series of unmanned lunar landers, to be called "Explorateur" (French built).
1968 - First manned flight in Earth orbit. Earth orbit test flights will be named "Aurora".
1969 - First flight of the lunar capable launch vehicle and unmanned "Lunar Orbiter B" missions to take high resolution surface images.
1970 - Long duration manned flights in Earth orbit.
1971 - First manned flight to lunar orbit, lunar missions to be named "Selene".
1972 - Manned lunar landing.
With the grand announcements and over and the ink dry on the treaty, it is time for the scientists and engineers to take over.
The first question they must answer is:
“How on Earth do we go to the Moon?”
