Failure is inevitable in engineering pursuits. Yes, the lives lost from such engineering overreach are a tragedy. But early failures can provide instruction for future successes, and the unavoidable fact of occasional failure is the price of grand ideas.
Some grandiose projects fail from bad engineering, some from bad operators, and some from just plain bad luck. Others are simply bad ideas. Not examined enough, however, is yet another reason for failure or success: the cultural narrative behind a technology. America’s moon program, for example, succeeded in good measure because its race for technological advancement was willing to express a national purpose.
Or, for an example of failure, consider the sad history of zeppelins, dirigibles, and blimps. A recent book, His Majesty’s Airship: The Life and Tragic Death of the World’s Largest Flying Machine, reminds us of the power of narrative for an overly hyped technology that struggles to stay in the air. S.C. Gwynne tells the story of a 1929 British airship program that produced the R101 airship, a rigid-frame, hydrogen-filled lighter-than-air craft that, at 777 feet, was the largest airship of its time. Tracing the engineering challenges, the in-group dramas, and the political battles, Gwynne reminds us that behind every nut, bolt, and sewn cow-intestine hydrogen gasbag is an engineer, a banker, and a politician who help make the technology possible.
Lighter-than-air craft, beginning with hot-air observation balloons, had their beginnings in war. The ones known as "airships" are steerable vessels with a structural frame, held aloft by hydrogen or helium. At a time when heavier-than-air planes were dangerous, needed regular refueling, and could not carry heavy loads, airships seemed a plausible technology.
These early airships had their shortcomings. Lift—the upward force generated by buoyancy from the lightweight gas—needed to be managed meticulously. In calm skies, this task can be done by a back-of-the-envelope undergraduate-level force-balance calculation. But even the slightest breeze generates sufficient force to push the airship hundreds of feet. Meanwhile, the lifting potential of the flammable hydrogen gas is altitude and temperature-dependent. Rearward engines provided the linear motion of the vessel, but as the engines operated, fuel would be consumed, decreasing the weight. If more lift was required, excess fuel, cargo, and supplies needed to be jettisoned. Everything not bolted down or breathing was at risk of being thrown overboard.