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PERSONAL PERSPECTIVE : With ‘Peace Dividend’ Chatter Rampant, Will MICE Become Endangered Species?

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<i> Gerhard W. Thielman is an aerospace engineer</i>

After the allied liberation of Kuwait, well-deserved praise was extended to our men and women in uniform for their achievements in Desert Shield and Desert Storm. Much was made, too, of what stood behind the military personnel--weapons technology. But what of the people behind the technology?

The development of the systems and hardware that were key to defeating Iraqi forces was brought about by military-industrial complex engineers--MICE. Who are these anonymous people? Assuming these individuals possess an inclination toward technical and scientific matters, why aren’t they busy designing video recorders and toasters instead of radars and bombs?

Because MICE find military technology fascinating: The attempt to extend performance boundaries, driven by the need to counter an enemy threat, represents an irresistible challenge.

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Those of us in defense-related industries enjoy a certain exhilaration from devising new and exotic machines and playing with the latest tools of the trade. Our skills are recruited by an industry responsive to high-performance demands. Our labors are rewarded with modest salaries and the satisfaction that our efforts help ensure the continuity of Western civilization. But scheduled retrenchment in defense and minimal commitment to space development present an ominous portent of technological stagnation. With a “peace dividend” lurking over the horizon, will MICE become an endangered species?

There appears to be little public appreciation for what MICE do. Not many people admire the weapons systems we develop, but that is not surprising; these are rather specialized devices, often intended for unpleasant consequences. But engineering remains invisible in other ways. Society accords our profession little prestige in any field. We aren’t even noticed by the entertainment world, compared with physicians, attorneys, stockbrokers and police officers, even though our work is no less interesting.

It may be that MICE have no inherent inclination for fame and fortune. Engineers are cautious; the risk-assessment strategies used to amass personal wealth is alien to most minds conditioned to calculate factors of safety. Engineering provides no established route to political power; people trained in the scientific method cannot equivocate as adeptly as lawyers, and so are less likely to seek or acquire public office. To tell the truth, most of us prefer to solve equations or tinker with machinery rather than interact with people for a living.

Now there is a growing apprehension among MICE that mutual lack of interest between technicians and society could have unwelcome repercussions on both sides in the future. Recently, I read an economics paper that concluded that engineers make a greater contribution to productivity than lawyers or financiers. Innovation creates wealth; lawsuits and bond trades merely shuffle money. Aerospace, in particular, remains one of the few manufacturing areas where U.S. export revenues exceed imports.

Few would find these tidings unexpected; yet companies that cut back their research funding or lay off engineering staff often see their stock prices increase. Such cutbacks naturally aggrandize near-term earnings at the expense of long-term investment. Meanwhile, the fabric of our economic foundation continues to unravel through speculative mergers, endless litigation and socialist legislation, while competition from abroad challenges our commerce.

MICE have long been accustomed to having little control over their employment destinies. What’s galling is seeing our collective professional influence eroded by the powers-that-be. Back in the 1960s, Secretary of Defense Robert S. McNamara and his “whiz kids” thought that they could manage technology without understanding even its fundamental principles. This politically inspired redirection has scandalously contributed, in large measure, to the spiraling costs of many defense programs. These growing expenditures, in turn, diminish the voters’ appetite for perpetuating publicly funded engineering projects. The fiscal starvation of NASA’s space station, the congressionally mandated emasculation of “Star Wars” and the abatement in production funding for both strategic and tactical military hardware all illustrate this trend.

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We MICE wonder if we are to witness the ascendancy of modern-day Luddites on a national scale.

Technology surrounds us, and much of it began as a consequence of military endeavors. The magnetron in microwave ovens was pioneered in radar to detect enemy bombers; the electronic computer resulted from the need to decipher cryptographic codes and to determine ballistic trajectories; fiber optics used in medical endoscopes began as a response to military communication needs; weather satellites evolved from advances in rocketry and reconnaissance. Other mechanical and electrical wonders augur capability in yet-undiscovered fields in the decades to come. Meanwhile, the complex infrastructure that maintains our our technological society requires competent maintenance and improvement.

We MICE quietly go about the tasks the public expects of us, and if our effort is noticed at all, it is usually for the purpose of criticism. A favorite these days is the call to suspend military and aerospace application of MICE work because social programs need the money. We remember how MICE got American astronauts on the moon when the War on Poverty was being lost; we know that our work has helped to constrain terrorist-dictators around the globe. So, next time the news shows democratization in the Soviet empire or diminished instability in the Middle East, don’t give politicians and generals all of the credit. MICE deserve some recognition, too.

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