DARPA and NASA had jointly realized that nobody in their right mind formulated plans and undertook projects on anything like the 100-year time horizon that they thought was needed to design, build, outfit, and launch a crewed interstellar vehicle. So they wanted to seed-fund some private organization to do so, and for an essentially backdoor reason: namely to reap whatever possible spinoff technologies might accrue from such an endeavor. “DARPA also anticipates that the advancements achieved by such technologies will have substantial relevance to Department of Defense (DoD) mission areas including propulsion, energy storage, biology/life support, computing, structures, navigation, and others.”

The chapter argues that Germany’s major corporate leaders largely agreed between 1918 and 1932 on a self-serving analysis of Germany’s economic problems and an unpopular approach to dealing with them (the Consensus) but splintered and dithered in identifying an appropriate political vehicle for these views (the Dissensus). As a result, they neither defended the Republic nor brought Hitler to power.

This chapter examines the rapid mobilization and almost complete militarization of the German economy long before Goebbels called for total war, and even before Albert Speer arrived on the economic scene to engage in the mythification that long has surrounded studies of Germany’s economic war effort. Just as the insufficiency of the nation’s resources made achieving Hitler’s territorial aspirations ultimately impossible, that insufficiency drove production efforts that increasingly alienated executives but also induced them to participate in crazed and costly schemes to save themselves and their firms.

This chapter dissects the defects of both the prosecution and defense cases at postwar trials of German big business figures, and then the role of German corporations in creating and propagating a legend of corporate “decency” under compulsion during the Third Reich for decades thereafter, while also concealing the surviving corporate records that would have undermined this legend.

While the fate of a multigenerational interstellar population cannot be predicted with anything approaching certainty, the many dangers presented by the instantaneously lethal environment of space, plus the interpersonal pressures and conflicts that might result in social breakdown, make it doubtful that a successful transit to another star system with all the successive onboard generations remaining safe, healthy, and happy across time, is a realistic possibility. It is far more likely that the crew would suffer one or another kind of irremediable catastrophe en route than that everyone aboard would survive, and that the final, arriving generation would get there intact. But if that is true, then the question arises whether it would be morally justifiable to launch such an expedition to begin with, given its immense costs, high probability of failure, and lack of any benefit accruing to the sponsors back on Earth who had paid for it all.

Beyond the task of developing a realistic and workable propulsion system that would make interstellar travel possible and practical, there is the prior challenge of identifying an extrasolar planet that would be suitable for long-term human habitation. Any planet that is a candidate for human colonization has to satisfy a surprisingly large number of requirements stemming from the fact that human biology has evolved on Earth and nowhere else, and is therefore fit to survive only in an environment that is substantially similar to our own. As Daniel Deudney has said in his book Dark Skies, “Humans are sprung from the Earth, have never lived anywhere but on Earth, and the features of this planet have shaped every aspect of human life .… Life is not on Earth, it is of Earth.” And for that reason, a planet fit for human colonization elsewhere must be earthlike in several important respects.