The continued paralysis of the U.S. government is being felt around the world, even at some of the most remote scientific outposts on the planet. As the partial shutdown extends into its second week, the National Science Foundation (NSF) has directed its scientists and its primary logistical contractor – Lockheed Martin – to wind down operations and initiate “caretaker” status.
The abrupt change of course comes at an inopportune time, as the most active portion of the field season – October through February – was just getting underway. The logistical ordeal of transporting people and supplies to Antarctica is an intricately choreographed process, and the departure from the tightly constrained plan will affect an entire season of scientific operations no matter how long the holding pattern lasts.
Simply put, there will be long-term repercussions, even if the political deadlock is solved in the coming days.
Multi-year projects will likely miss a year’s worth of data; for research initiatives like the McMurdo Dry Valley Long Term Ecological Research Network, the increasingly noticeable impacts of climate change make losing the 2013-2014 season particularly upsetting. The NSF also funds dozens of three-year grant projects, many of which depend on annual maintenance or monitoring. By the time scientists return to Antarctica, these experiments could be ruined, and their biological, meteorological, or chemical data lost forever.*
It’s easy to forget just how inhospitable Antarctica is, and how much work and expertise goes in to maintaining a permanent presence on the ice. In a place where seemingly simple tasks require several levels of sophisticated planning and specialized equipment, putting the bases on stand-by mode isn’t as simple as turning the thermostat down as you lock the door.
Andrew Thurber is a Postdoctoral Fellow at Oregon State University who has spent much of the last few years studying shallow marine ecosystems around Antarctica. “Much of the equipment is delicately put to bed each winter and slowly woken up for the field season,” he notes. Other infrastructure requires even more attention. “One of the biggest undertakings every year is the ice runway, where a section of the ocean is manicured to be able to handle the landing of planes of supplies. This takes constant upkeep and a dedicated staff, and when operational, it saves an astronomical amount of fuel and resources compared to the alternative.”
The Ice Pier, where resupply and fuel ships dock, requires similar care; without these critical pieces of infrastructure, Thurber says, “the total cost of research skyrockets, and if the station fails to get fueled, the next year’s science season is also in jeopardy.”
Despite the crippling uncertainty and the likely loss of data, the scientists may actually get off relatively easily. The hundreds of people who support operations at the three American bases – people who, as Thurber puts it, “essentially arranged their entire lives around being gone from normal civilization for as much as 13 months” – are being sent home with uncertain prospects of future employment. “They are the real heroes of Antarctic research: they make large sacrifices and are absolute experts in what they do.”
Even as American bases begin to close, 29 other countries are proceeding with their regularly scheduled scientific programs. Antarctica is in many ways a type case of international cooperation, a continent set aside for science, protected from economic exploitation by the landmark Antarctic Treaty. This spirit of internationalism is manifest in the tightly intertwined scientific collaborations that have developed over the decades.
Joe Kirschvink, a Professor of Geobiology at the California Institute of Technology, is engaged in a collaborative geological investigation of the James Ross Basin with Argentinean colleagues. And even though he has sufficient non-governmental funding to wade through the NSF shutdown, any scientific involvement in Antarctica requires a medical check-up from the host country, which is typically provided for American scientists by Lockheed Martin. Kirschvink is currently racing against time to secure official approval for a scientist from his research group to join the expedition.
Most international collaborations won’t be so lucky, and without American participants, the viability of other programs is uncertain. “[The United States’] participation is like a one-ton gorilla,” says Kirschvink. “If we leave the scene, who knows what the other countries will do.”
Antarctic scientists and support staff are masters of uncertainty given the harsh conditions inherent in their posting. But in a place where natural conditions are challenging enough, it’s disheartening that the greatest threat of all is coming from the very system meant to support the Antarctic science in the first place.
*These arguments underlie a petition to exempt the U.S. Antarctic Program from the shutdown.
