But I carried away some magic. Watch: I put a half-twist in this strip of paper, join the ends, and now it has only one side and one edge
“Talisman” (with Dian Girard), 1981
SPACE
Twenly-five years ago, my ambition was to tell stories.
It wasn’t long before I decided I could save civilization too. I was about to blame that on Jerry Pournelle, until I remembered:
San Diego, The Starlight Motel, the Bouncing Potatoes Westercon in 1966. They put me on a panel alongside Harlan Ellison and a handful of other contributors to his forthcoming anthology Dangerous Visions. And I was talking about a short story, “The Jigsaw Man.”
I told fandom assembled that the situation was desperate: that executing criminals by disassembling them for public organ banks would be feasible now. The argument that allows any convicted axe murderer to save a dozen lives in this fashion works just as well on a political dissident or a litterbug. The inertia of politicos would not hold back the organ bank problem forever. We had to be prepared!
Harlan was not trying to keep a straight face. Well, maybe he was.
I meant it, of course.
Barnaard performed his hearttransplanta little before Dangerous Wsions hit The stores. Next thing I knew, several study groups had sprung up to study the ethics of organ transplants and donor rights.
I stopped worrying. I kept writing on the subject, but then, it’s a natural basis for stories.
I remained ready to save civilization.
When Apollo 11 left lunar orbit and began its descent, Marilyn and I were on our way to a Watch-the-Landing pony. We were at a traffic light with the radio on. For just That moment my whole nervous system surged with fear. I wanted powerfully to shout, “Wait! Let me think this over. This is going to change all of the future, the consequences are beyond our control—.-”
It never crossed my mind that we would go to the Moon, and come back, and stop! Or stop the program early, stop building Saturns, and even attempt to burn the plans. Why? They worked!
For us fanatics there were a couple of wonderful years of lunar exploration, Then an endless time spent planetbound, marooned. Then Jerry Pournelle told me that we could save civilization.
The Citizens Advisory Council for a National Space Policy has met five times over five years, for harrowing three-day weekends. The attendees include
spacecraft designers, businessmen, NASA personnel, astronauts, lawyers~ Adding science fiction writers turns out to be stunningly effective. We can force these guys to speak English. For those who can’t we can translate. Jerry does the yelling and gives us our directions. In each case we have spent a weekend designing a proposed space program for the nation, including costs and schedules.
It’s weird to think that we are (or were) the only ones doing costs and schedules. Didn’t we hire a government to do that? But the Council came about because Jerry realized that nobody else was doing it in Washington or anywhere else.
When he talked me into this, and Marilyn Into holding local civilization together while it happened, and forty or so pro-space iypes into attending at their own expense, Jerry could make only one promise. The President would see what we produced.
The pattern established at the first Council meeting was the one we followed thenceforth. It was absolutely new to me: I have never held a job in my life, except for one summer working in a gas station.
The science fiction writers (me, Jerry, and Poul Anderson on that first occasion) would take notes and turn them into English later.
After it wound up, Jerry asked me to write up my Impressions, quick, while they were still in my mind. They’re not too coherent but here they are.
NOTES ON THE SPACE POLICY SEMINAR
FRIDAY AFTERNOON
Activity started at noon and centered mainly around the doorbell, which never stopped ringing. Dr. Pournelle spent all of that time making introductions. I welcomed people without worrying about their names; I’ve learned there’s no point.
We tried gathering round the poker table to get started. The poker table got overfilled quick. Marilyn had put the leaves in the breakfast table, making it our largest. We continued trying to organize, and did fairly well at it, though our ranks continued to swell until the crowding became ridiculous.
Consumption of coffee reached record levels. I reluctantly gave up trying to monitor that myself. Also trying to help Marilyn and contribute to the policy-making. From that moment she was on her own.
The need for Dr. Pournelle, or any single authority-figure with a loud voice and no neurotic fear of offending people, became obvious Saturday and stayed that way throughout. We thirty-six or so managed to continue in the direction we were pointed, mostly. I don’t think it would have worked on as many science fiction writers; but then, we did convene for one stated purpose.
When the breakfast room got jammed, we broke up into groups, as directed.
The group I joined tackled the question: “How do we get free enterprise into space?” Suggestions and pro-huckster arguments came thickly and rapidly. Forty percent tax break on investments in space (that specific figure was never questioned). Ten year tax moratorium on salable products from space (instantly extended to 2000 A. D.). Starbase I, the permanent space station with huckster-room for rent. Incorporation rules. Present restrictions on business, some of which now make any small business almost impossible, let alone a space enterprise, should not apply unless Congress specifically says so.
I remember participating, but I don’t remember adding anything specific. When the group disbanded I went to write up our decisions in tentative fashion. Art Dula had material to expand it; Bjo Trimble typed it in, after I showed her how. She loves Electric Pencil.
After dinner Art Dula and I seriously tackled our group’s position paper. I titled it “How to Save Civilization and Make a Little Money,” expecting that that would drop out along the way. We polished the bejesus out of it. Dula does know how to cut and polish, as well as I did ten years ago, and he developed the same hyperenthusiasm I was working under. It helped that there had been no serious disagreement about any major points. But he uses tremendous sentences bristling with clauses. I’d stare at some damned tangled paragraph, often reduced to gibberish by a crucial misspelling via Bjo; then yell “Trrrust me!” and slash it apart into little words and short sentences.
All the time we were working, raucous laughter rose from below. I was missing all the fun. We got our copies downstairs late in the evening, and I found myself passing them around and demanding that people read them. . . and thinking that a lot of this must go on during such symposia. Lots of people working through the fun time to produce paper, then watching people fail to read the damn paper.
SATURDAY
Marilyn’s new chairs arrived, and were needed.
Without the volunteer help, nothing would have worked. There were three, and they made a good many trips for supplies. Marilyn was exhausting herself keeping us fed. Coffee vanished as fast as it appeared. I tried to ignore all this, because I was expected to contribute as a participant.
Some of these memories have gotten blurred.
Morning: a general session discussing progress. We had produced a fair amount of paper, and that seemed good to Dr. Pournelle. He kept insisting that we stay specific: that we should not restrict ourselves to general statements about how getting into space is a Good Thing. We should build thus-and-so? Fine. If you can’t tell me what it costs, then what does it look like?
Lunch.
Dr. Poumelle broke us up into groups. I’d have loved to sit in on the Moon Project group, but thought I was more badly needed in Blue Sky. I took ‘em outside—it seemed appropriate.
Discussion ranged all over the map. At one point Dr. Pournelle came out to be sure we weren’t restricting ourselves too much. He found it wasn’t necessary. We tossed in a few favorite far-out ones, like the orbital tower and esoteric means of propulsion, and the interstellar light-sail . . . but quickly dropped the subject of interstellar flight. We came up with short-range stuff too, and that was what got used.
Put seven crew aboard any Shuttle that isn’t mass-restricted or already full. Have a lottery for the extra seats, or reward politicians, news commentators, and aging hard science fiction writers who jog. An astronaut in every village! Build a windowed pressure can with seats for the Shuttle bay. Accept that the Shuttle will be used to make movies.
SATURDAY EVENING
The volunteers went out for Chinese food for forty. (We’ve still got far too much of it.) Came back much later, telling tales of the restaurateur’s shock as he realized they were serious. I made a cheese omelet for B .J., a woman on a very restrictive hypoglycemia diet.
We liked each other, almost universally, all thirty-odd of us. We were all gathered for a larger purpose. I failed to notice that the science fiction writers were being treated as absolute equals, because I expected nothing less; I had to have it pointed out. How times change.
After dinner Dr. Pournelle split us into groups. I got drafted for the discussion re: “How can the Space Program be made to help underdeveloped peoples?”
Chuck Gould stated our conclusion at the outset. Every comsat that goes up should be overdesigned and flexible. We should be able to sell, lease, or give away comsat capability to any nation that finds a use for it, and instantly. Fine. We then traded anecdotes and philosophic generalities for an hour or two—I had some of my own, but found it difficult to interrupt—after which we repeated the original statement again. I tried
to hand in my notes. I was told, diffidently, that I (as wordsmith) was expected to produce the copy.
I said, “There’s a problem. I’m not inspired.”
“Why?”
I explained. I know how to help the underdeveloped people. I produce new wealth via space conquest and new technology, and expect a great deal to spill over. The rich get richer and the poor get rich too; it almost always works, as long as new wealth is being created. (I’m not sure that got into our final missive. Dr. Pournelle, it should.)
I/we worked on the position paper afterward, starting with my sparse draft and continuing Sunday, photocopying every draft. It was like pulling teeth, but we’ve produced a good, readable paper.
I got into the drinking and conversation earlier Saturday night. Dave Griswell and I started trading wild ideas. If any serious bureaucrat knew how his mind really works . . . well. He wants to collect the solar wind and mine it for resources, mainly iron. I offered him half a Dyson shell, saying you’d be able to move the sun too. He worked out the numbers, and it’s just no good. But he likes my flux tube. (That became The Smoke Ring.)
SUNDAY
We didn’t convene till eleven. But we convened like a flash flood! Everybody running in all directions. I never stopped except right at the beginning, when Dr. Pournelle convened us. He had a draft of the two papers to be sent to the Administration. It was pretty good. There was some discussion, including both nits (which got sarcasm) and important points (on the level of “Sure this is true, but do we hit ‘em with it now?”)
When that broke up, the havoc began.
Alan Trimpi showed me a position paper he’d first-drafted. It had all it should have, but it wasn’t well written. By now I’d noticed the amazing range of writing skills among the attendees. I scribbled all over Alan’s paper (“It’s only marks on paper,” he reassured me), then other papers while someone typed Alan’s paper into a computer, then did a lot of (x + 1)-drafting in Electric Pencil .
I spent all three days feeling (a) hyperkinetic; that is, eager to speak or write or rewrite, unwilling to rest; and (b) irritated. I don’t think the irritation ever got out of hand. It’s normal. A writer correcting a bad or hasty draft is irritated. Bad writing becomes an irritant. It’s worse when the draft is by a collaborator. I had thirty-five collaborators, and some couldn’t write coherently, let alone concisely and without vagueness. I’d have to stop to ask the author, “But what were you trying to say here?”
Not unexpected. I was prepared to find shop-talk where the authors thought they were speaking English, and I did, I did, from the “dedicated satellite” level (but a dictionary will not tell you what that means) to a compulsive use of initials. (That is not being concise. It makes the text read slower.)
I moved at a dead run for most of two days. I never bumped into anyone, not quite, but with that crowd it was bloody likely every second. And they were all running too.
And always I felt I was accomplishing something!
“Read this.” Okay, and I made chicken-marks as I went. Ruined one once and had to reprint the page. “Have you read—?” “No, who’s got a copy? Find it.” “How do I save copy on the machine?” I did that over and over. “The copier’s jammed—” “How do I print something out downstairs?” People who found Friday’s paper kept telling me they loved “How to Save Civilization and Make a Little Money.” It’ll stay on as a subheading. Maybe someday a bumper sticker?
Things slowed down late in the afternoon. It was bewildering. The first paper (what to advise the Admin to do instantly) is nearly ready. The second, more comprehensive treatment of a viable space program isn’t quite so urgent. Both are in Dr. Pournelle’s hands.
A few of us finished in the spa, pool and sauna.
The house is a disaster area. We’ve got leftovers everywhere, despite giving away what Chinese food we could and throwing away anything transient.
Marilyn collapsed at 9:00 P.M. and is sleeping like a brick.
I’m still hyper.
We still like each other, all thirty-odd of us. I particularly like Dave Griswell. And maybe we’ve actually accomplished something.
CONCLUSIONS
I have nothing to compare this experience with. There’s little I can offer as advice on how to improve the experience. But— We had two computers, a Diablo printer and a slower printer, a correcting typewriter, and a copier. I couldn’t replace the ribbon or correcting tape because I only address letters with it; Bjo did that. One of us imported a computer-link and another Diablo. And the copier never got a chance to cool down! For this kind of seminar we needed anything that would write, but particularly the copier.
The volunteer gofers and typist were worth their weight in gold. It particularly helped that they had brains. Getting gofers with brains and dedication will not always be possible.
A huge coffee maker would have saved effort, but the coffee wouldn’t have been as good. This may well be crucial.
Our house (I was told repeatedly) was perfect. What counted was the arrangement of rooms: we could gather everyone or isolate them.
I had reference materials on hand, though most such had to be brought in.
How much of this was crucial? I have no way of knowing.
In the Free Enterprise symposium I voiced few opinions of my own, but I was able to understand a little of what was going on. The reason for a tax moratorium on stuff manufactured in space were clear enough. Space Is expensive enough without taxes; the United States pulls no taxes now from that source, so would not lose anything. Another point needed explaining:
The law was murky. This need not bother a government—they could adjust the laws to fit whatever they’re doing—but a corporation lawyer wouldn’t be able to tell his employers how the law stood if they did thus and so. If we wanted corporations in space, the laws would have to be made unambiguous. (And In general, this has been done.)
We wound up with a lot of notes. Bjo Trimble, another volunteer, typed them into my machine upstairs.
That night Jerry told me he wanted Those notes rewritten. I said, “Sure. Tomorrow.” The party was just starting. These were some of the brightest people around; I wanted to probe their minds.
“If I wanted you to do it tomorrow, I’d have said, ‘Do It tomorrow,’ he said.
Weird.
To make this work, some single entity had to go Through all of the paper produced, get every attendee to ratify it then run a lot of it through a typewriter to finish turning it into English or to make it concise enough to read. Jerry found a volunteer: himself. He probably never considered me. He knows I couldn’t do it, and wouldn’t.
The report was loosed upon Washington in January, 1981.
HOW TO SAVE CIVILIZATION
AND MAKE A LITTLE MONEY
Report of the Free Enterprise Committee
RECOMMENDATION
The most important goal is to make space self-sustaining, which means economically profitable.
We begin with the assumption that we wish to maximize freedom, in space as well as Earth; and that a fundamental human right is the right to have and use property.
FREE ENTERPRISE SHOULD DEVELOP SPACE RESOURCES
1. The President should make two clear statements of intent:
“The United States of America must commit itself to extending free enterprise into space.”
“The Soviet Union has, and has repeatedly demonstrated, a direct interest in preventing free enterprise from entering space.”
2. Various international treaties (in particular, the Moon Treaty) concerning the exploitation of space, must be carefully reviewed. The intended thrust of many past treaties has been to bar free enterprise from space.
3. It will not forever be necessary to subsidize space enterprises. Private investment in space industry should be encouraged by:
3.1 A 40% tax credit for all space-related investments.
3.2 A moratorium on taxes on the initial sale of goods and resources produced in space, through at least the year 2000 A.D. The tax credit and moratorium should cover techniques and hardware designed to support activity in space. Such incentives have been used in the past, by many nations, to good effect.
3.3 U.S. patent, copyright, and trademark law should be extended to cover space-related hardware, software, and products.
3.4 A good many present regulations bid fair to cripple most small businesses on Earth, let alone a company trying to gain a foothold in space. We need new, simple, specific laws to cover space activities.
WITHDRAW FROM PRESENT SPACE LAW AGREEMENTS
In 1967 the U.N. accepted a Treaty on Principles Governing the Activities of States in the Exploration and Use of Outer Space, Including the Moon and Other Celestial Bodies. This proposed treaty would have required that “all activities in space be conducted exclusively by states.” The U.S. properly rejected this attempt to forbid private development of space resources. Note that the Communications Satellite Corporation, which is not an agency of the U.S. government, was created to operate for profit in space. The proposed treaty would have left its status in doubt.
In 1967, compromise between the U.S. and Soviet Union on the Treaty on Principles placed two limitations on private companies. First, “activities of nongovernmental entities in outer space, including the Moon and other celestial bodies, shall require authorization and continuing supervision by the appropriate state party to the treaty.” (Treaty Art. 6) Second, “each state party to the treaty that launches or procures the launching of an object into outer space, including the Moon and other celestial bodies, and each state party from whose territory or facility an object is launched, is internationally liable for damages to another state party to the treaty or to its natural or juridical persons by such object or its component parts on the Earth, in air space, or in outer space, including the Moon and other celestial bodies.” (Treaty Art. 7)
This treaty has chilled the investment environment for private corporations interested in financing space activities. The treaty’s requirements are without parallel in the private sector. For example, if a Pan-American Airways 747 crashes and damages foreign property or persons, then Pan-American and its insurers, not the U.S. government, are liable for the damage. However, if a space object owned by a U.S. corporation does exactly the same damage, the U.S. government is internationally liable to the government of the state in whose territory the damage occurred. The result has been government control where none is needed and extensive regulation where none is required.
Additionally, many important provisions of the 1967 Treaty on Principles are extremely vague. This vagueness does not affect investment by a government in space, but no potential investor could meaningfully predict the legal and economic risks of private space operations.
After the Treaty on Principles was ratified in 1967, about half the nations of the world acceded to it. Far fewer nations have ratified three later treaties passed by the U.N. These include a Convention on Rescue and Return of Astronauts, a Convention on International Liability for Damages Caused by Space Objects, and a Moon Treaty. Like the 1967 Treaty on Principles, each of these treaties is an academic exercise in international law made far in advance of the reality it purports to control. These treaties do not, and cannot, take into account the rapidly changing nature of space technology. They cannot be amended to reflect a nation’s changing economy. They fail to address the legitimate needs of private corporations to own space resources and exploit them for profit. They are really more political statements by the Third World and the USSR than a workable set of legal rules for the initial development of space resources.
For example, these treaties declare that all space resources in the Solar
System are “the common heritage of mankind,” a phrase interpreted by most nations to mean “common property.” This term is also found in the Law of the Sea Treaties. It is an example of how less developed nations are attempting to limit U.S. access to natural resources. This “common heritage” clause has already been used by the United Nations to impose an indefinite moratorium on deep sea-bed mining.
The U.S. should immediately act to withdraw from the 1967 Treaty on Principles and the 1972 International Liability Convention. The U.S. should carefully review the desirability of remaining in the Registration Convention and the Rescue Convention, and should consider, after thorough study, whether to withdraw from these international agreements.
The Reagan administration has several specific opportunities to reverse the recent weakness in U.S. international space policy. The following events in 198 1—1983 are critical:
(A) The U.S. should ask United Nations Committee on the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space that the “Moon Treaty” be returned for renegotiation to safeguard private enterprise and human freedoms in space. The U.S. delegation should maintain constant vigilance over space activities at the United Nations.
(B) In 1982 the U.N. will host the Second Conference on the Exploration and Peaceful Uses of Outer Space. This meeting will be a trial run for at least the next decade of treaty negotiations and radio frequency allocations. The U.S. must submit its National Position Papers to the United Nations. The Reagan Administration should form a task force of space law experts who are known supporters of private enterprise and human freedoms in space to prepare these papers.
(C) In 1983 the Region 2 (Americas) of the International Telecommunications Union will hold an Administrative Radio Conference—Space Broadcasting. The Reagan Administration should resist the territorial claims of nations over geosynchronous orbit, stand up for U.S. rights to have direct broadcasting over any area of the Americas, and insist that solar power satellites be allowed to beam power back to the Earth.
POSITIVE STEPS TOWARD PRIVATE SECTOR
INVOLVEMENT
In Wealth of Nations Adam Smith pointed out that South America has greater economic potential than North America. North America is more economically advanced because of the structure of its economy. This illustrates the need for a favorable matrix to foster a flourishing economy. The Reagan Administration should submit legislation to the Congress to create a favorable economic climate in space.
Favorable tax policies and a clarification of the legal conditions in which space ventures occur would be an important step forward and would require no governmental expenses beyond the costs necessary to enact the necessary legislation.
First, a 40% tax credit should be allowed on all high technology investment, including research and development, to direct our national strategy toward the creation of new industries, which could be expected to provide new sources of employment, taxes and foreign exchange. Naturally space industries would be included within the high technology sphere. Since this result would be at least as desirable as the production of power from solar energy, the 40% investment credit enacted to encourage solar energy investment should be expanded to include many other high technology research and development efforts.
Second, space is presently an economically underdeveloped environment. Many underdeveloped terrestrial nations have enacted tax moratoria to promote industrial development. Profits from the initial sale of space-produced goods and services, including data as a salable commodity, should be exempted from taxes. Similarly, no customs duties should be assessed on products from space. This provision already applies to less developed nations on Earth. This moratorium from taxation and duties should last at least until 2000 A.D. to facilitate the founding of a wide spectrum of space industries.
Private space industry will require clearly defined laws. Private space activities under U.S. jurisdiction should be exempt from all federal and state regulations except for those specifically enacted to control space activities by the Congress of the U.S. on a case by case basis. For example, U.S. patent, trademark and copyright law should apply to U.S. business activities in space.
None of these moves are guaranteed to create American industries in space. The most the United States government can do, is to make the risk less fearsome, the profits more attractive.
There have been six meetings of the Council. Five took place at our house. The last was held at the Pournelles’, because Marilyn was half-paralyzed with a worst-case ruptured lumbar disk. (Ihe operation worked. She’s in good shape now.)
We have frequently heard our phrasing worked Into the Presidenrs speeches.
Star Wars went through the Niven household.
Arthur Clarke and Robert Heinlein were present during that session. They were on opposite sides: Clarke opposed all of the Star Wars approaches. In this he was hampered: In greeting Max Hunter, he announced that Max had taught Arthur everything he knew about orbital mechanics.
This is typical of Arthur: give credit where due.
Max replied, “I didn’t teach you enough, Arthur.” (After all, there was an argument going.)
Jerry gives Marilyn and her team of volunteers credit for the Trealy of Tarzana. Marilyn is a wonderful hostess—a nitpicking Virgo—and her team of volunteers were as fanatical as any of us.
Saturday afternoon of the second meeting, proponents of various approaches surrounded our breakfast table. Each had his own idea of how to stop a flurry of incoming nuclear warheads.
General Danny Graham favored impact devices, “High Frontier,” the logical heir to Arthur Clarke’s original notion: take out a missile by firing a shotgun shell in retrograde orbit. Impact: ten to eleven miles per second. Max Hunter and others favored ground-based lasers: catch ‘em incoming, or even loft a mirror and bounce the beam off that. Lowell Wood, Edward Teller’s deputy, favored orbiting gamma lasers. Quarreling had already been reported in the news.
Afternoon became evening. They sat about the breakfast table, trying to work out some compromise . . . while smells from the kitchen surrounded them. No door there, lust the edge of a wall. They heard Marilyn ask, “When shall we serve dinner?” and they heard Jerry answer, “When this team comes to an agreement.”
We starved them out.
The Treaty was basically an agreement not to rain on each others parades. In public, “All of these techniques should be tried; all may be necessary.”
We’re calling it SSX now: a small, wingless ground-to-orbit spacecraft that uses everything NASA learned before they ossified. The sixth meeting of the Council ratified a strong appeal for an SSX.
But the Citizens Advisory Council has seen several shapes for what Gary Hudson calls the Phoenix rocket design. They’re truncated cones. They’re small. They use densified fuel (you keep chilling the hydrogen and oxygen until they become slushy), aerospike engines (a ring of them around a cone, and you fake the cone), spindly little legs used for landing only, no wings, a seleciion of peaceheads for cargo or fuel or passengers.
And they’re private enterprise (though Gary has finally compromised and accepted a government contract for a big dumb booster rocket).
If he ever builds a Phoenix, Marilyn and I will be aboard the first flight of the corporate rocket. We bought our way in early.
And now Jerry’s claiming that we tore down the Berlin Wall at Niven’s house! It’s hard to disprove. The argument goes:
1) The National Defense Initiative went through the Niven household before it was loosed upon the nation.
2) Opponents kept having their facts shot out from under them—and always came to the same conclusions—until their position started to look a little silly. Meanwhile, it was being funded.
3) The Soviets couldn’t compete with the expense of Star Wars techniques.
4) They went to glasnost instead.
If you ask me, the Germans (both sides) ought to pick some sturdy, not too ugly section of the Wall and keep it. Build a museum with the Wall as its major support wall! The Wall is not a part of history that should be forgotten. Hell, they could even have races: over the wall, any technique is legal, a paint bullet disqualifies you.
What do you mean, nobody asked?
Nobody asked us to form a committee to design a national space policy either. What a selling author learns, what Jerry Pournelle seems to have known from birth, is this: You don’t have to wait to be asked.
DEFENSES
Anything worth doing in space can be turned into a weapon.
I add in haste that that statement also holds true in your own neighborhood. Nobody will ever count how many victims of the elderly and wealthy persuasion have fallen to the lowly pillow. Anything with heft works in a bar fight: a glass ashtray, a bottle and a hard surface to break it, even the bottle alone. An automobile makes a fine weapon; so does gasoline. All of these things are universally available.
But in space the situation is entirely different. The energies necessary even to reach orbit, let alone to accomplish anything once we’re there, are matched only in the field of weapons, and generally not by them.
The most efficient reaction motors are those with the highest exhaust velocity. A Saturn booster hovering over a building would reduce it to flaming slag; a fusion rocket would certainly do the job faster; a light-pressure drive would melt and boil it.
A mass in low orbit carries tremendous kinetic energy. What gives a spacecraft destructive power also gives it vulnerability: any undefended orbiting spacecraft can be killed by a bucket of sand in retrograde orbit. In higher orbits the velocities may be less, but the potential energies are even greater—which is why lifting the mass is so expensive—and the higher the orbit, the less retrothrust it takes to drop the mass back to Earth.
The distance between L5 and the Moon is the radius of the Moon’s orbit. Between L4 and L5 the distance is nearly twice that. A signal laser powerful enough to cross such gaps would be lethal at close range.
Rocks thrown from the Moon by any kind of mass driver would impact the Earth as guided meteors, at seven miles per second.
Any nation that can return a piece of asteroid to Earth orbit, to mine its millions of tons of recoverable metals, could also drop it on an enemy with similar incoming velocities.
The United States should encourage any space enterprise involving its citizens. The more thoroughly we can establish ourselves in space, the safer we are. We must establish a presence in space, before someone can tell us not to.
If the Soviet Union is Number One in space, will there be a Number Two?