Space Agencies are an extension of a national identity
(Mike H. Ryan, associate professor of Management at the Rubel School of Business at Bellarmine University in Louisville, Kentucky 2004, The Role of National Culture in the Space-Based Technology Transfer Process,. Comparative Technology Transfer and Society, Volume 2, Number 1, April 2004, pp. 31-32, DA:6/22/11, CP)
Global patterns of business development over the last 30 years have generated many questions relevant to academics and practitioners alike. To what extent are management theories and practices transferable across national borders? Are these theories applicable to different cultures? (See Adler & Jelinek, 1986; Black & Porter, 1991; Hofstede, 1993; Laurent, 1983). The growing conclusion is that the “relative exportability of management theory and practice is determined by the compatibility of the cultural values between the exporting and importing nation” (Bigoness & Blakely, 1996, p. 739). Research designed to assess how nations differ in terms of attitudes, beliefs, and values has produced some interesting and occasionally variable findings (Hofstede, 1980; Kanungo & Wright, 1983; Ralston et al., 1992). Ralston et al. (1992) indicated that understanding managerial values is crucial in a global economy because the business and operational philosophy of a given country depends on the values held by those in management. Space organizations as currently constituted are primarily instruments of their national governments and are led by managers steeped in a specific national culture. This situation makes it important to understand the impact that culture is likely to impose on those organizations both operationally and in terms of technological development. Several scholars have suggested that national culture and organizational cultures are “phenomena of different orders” and that using the terms interchangeably is somewhat misleading (Hofstede, Neuijen, Ohayv, & Sanders, 1990, p. 313). With the possible exception of the European Space Administration (ESA), the strong cultural identity of a national space agency is at least likely to delay the imposition of organization norms that might stand in direct contrast to a national value set. The important point is the complexity that cultural settings, values, and attitudes are likely to have on organizational structures and processes (Lachman, Nedd, & Hinings, 1994; Ronen, 1986). With respect to the issues related to technology transfer, Kedia and Bhagat made the point that “to better understand the effectiveness of technology transfers across nations, we need a conceptual frame work that enhances the role of cultural variations . . .” (1988, p. 560).
Space is just an extension of the same ole empire
[Fraser McDonald, Lecturer in Human Geography at the School of Anthropology, Geography & Environmental Studies in the University of Melbourne, “Anti-Astropolitik: outer space and the
orbit of geography”, June 24, 2011,LMM]
My basic claim, then, is that a geographical concern with outer space is an old project not a new one. A closely related argument is that geography of outer space is a logical extension of earlier geographies of imperial exploration (for instance Driver, 2001; Smith and Godlewska, 1994). Space exploration has used exactly the same discourses, the same rationales, and even the same institutional frameworks (such as the International Geophysical Year, 1957-1958) as terrestrial exploration. And like its terrestrial counterpart, the move into space has its origins in older imperial enterprises. Marina Benjamin, for instance, argues that for the United States outer space was ‘always a metaphorical extension of the American West’ (Benjamin, 2003: 46). Looking at the imbricated narratives of colonialism and the Arianne space programme in French Guiana, the anthropologist Peter Redfield makes the case that ‘outer space reflects a practical shadow of empire’ (Redfield, 2002: 795; 2000). And the historian of science Richard Sorrenson, writing about the ship as geography’s scientific instrument in the age of high empire, draws on the work of David DeVorkin to argue that the V-2 missile was its natural successor (Sorrenson, 1996: 228; DeVorkin, 1992). A version of the V-2 – the two-stage ‘Bumper WAC Corporal’ – became the first earthly object to penetrate outer space reaching an altitude of 244 miles on the 24th February 1949 (Army Ballistic Missile Agency, 1961). Moreover, out of this postwar allied V-2 programme came the means by which Britain attempted to reassert its geopolitical might in the context of its own ailing empire. In 1954, when America sold Britain its first nuclear missile — a refined version of the WAC Corporal — its ossession was seen as a shortcut back to the international stage at a time when Britain’s colonial power was waning fast (Clark, 1994; MacDonald, 2006). Even if the political geography literature has scarcely engaged with outer space, the advent of rocketry was basically Cold War (imperial) geopolitics under another name. Space exploration then, from its earliest origins to the present day, has been about familiar terrestrial and ideological struggles here on Earth.
A2 Link Turn –Benevolent
Don’t be fooled by the 1AC – Space is a new space to revamp old imperial ways.
Spanos in 8
William, American Exceptionalism in the age of globalization : the specter of Vietnam , “American Exceptionalism in the Age of Globalization ; The Specter of Vietnam” , 2008, June 21, 2011, LMM
In this book I contend that the consequence of America’s intervention and conduct of the war in Vietnam was the self-destruction of the ontological, cultural, and political foundations on which America had perennially justified its “benign” self-image and global practice from the time of the Puritan “errand in the wilderness.” In the aftermath of the defeat of the American Goliath by a small insurgent army, the “specter” of Vietnam—by which I mean, among other things, the violence, bordering on genocide, America perpetrated against an “Other” that refused to accommodate itself to its mission in the wilderness of Vietnam—came to haunt America as a contradiction that menaced the legitimacy of its perennial self-representation as the exceptionalist and “redeemer nation.” In the aftermath of the Vietnam War, the dominant culture in America (including the government, the media, Hollywood, and even educational institutions) mounted a massive campaign to “forget Vietnam.” This relentless recuperative momentum to lay the ghost of that particular war culminated in the metamorphosis of an earlier general will to “heal the wound” inflicted on the American national psyche, into the “Vietnam syndrome”; that is, it transformed a healthy debate over the idea of America into a national neurosis. This monumentalist initiative was aided by a series of historical events between 1989 and 1991 that deflected the American people’s attention away from the divisive memory of the Vietnam War and were represented by the dominant culture as manifestations of the global triumph of “America”: Tiananmen Square, the implosion of the Soviet Union, and the first Gulf War. This “forgetting” of the actual history of the Vietnam War, represented in this book by Graham Greene’s The Quiet American, Philip Caputo’s A Rumor of War, and Tim O’Brien’s Going After Cacciato (and many other novels, memoirs, and films to which I refer parenthetically), contributed to the rise of neoconservatism and the religious right to power in the United States. And it provided the context for the renewal of America’s exceptionalist errand in the global wilderness, now understood, as the conservative think tank the Project for the New American Century put it long before the invasion of Afghanistan and Iraq, as the preserving and perpetuation of the Pax Americana. Whatever vestigial memory of the Vietnam War remained after this turn seemed to be decisively interred with Al Qaeda’s attacks on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon on September 11, 2001. Completely immune to dissent, the confident American government, under President George W. Bush and his neoconservative intellectual deputies and with the virtually total support of the America media—resumed its errand in the global wilderness that had been interrupted by the specter of Vietnam. Armed with a resurgence of self-righteous indignation and exceptionalist pride, the American government, indifferent to the reservations of the “Old World,” unilaterally invaded Afghanistan and, then after falsifying intelligence reports about Saddam Hussein’s nuclear capability, Iraq, with the intention, so reminiscent of its (failed) attempts in Vietnam, of imposing American-style democracy on these alien cultures The early representation by the media of the immediately successful “shock and awe” acts of arrogant violence in the name of “civilization” was euphoric. They were, it was said, compelling evidence not only of the recuperation of American consensus, but also of the rejuvenation on America’s national identity.