The newest issue of MacGuffin Magazine, "The Ball," collects stories that appear disparate but for their fixation on the consolidating properties of the circular object (whether as the globe, the sphere, or the minimal-surface enclosure). 

For MacGuffin, Jack Self, the writer, architect and editor of Real Review, shared the story of Biosphere II, the world’s largest (and, inevitably, most controversial) Earth science experiment, set inside a 3 acre enclosure in the Arizona desert. 

Theatre of Possibilities

By Jack Self

The colorful deserts of New Mexico were once populated by the Anasazi and Pueblo, native civilizations that thrived amidst the yucca and cacti. These peoples were ultimately erased by Spanish invaders, who were in turn displaced by British colonialists. With the discovery of gold, entrepreneurial prospectors flooded the state. Hardy townships sprung up, and oil men followed closely behind. The Rio Grande was dammed and diverted, creating vast tracts of fertile land at the feet of yellow mesas. 

By the 1960s, this dream-like landscape had become the stage set for a strange and fantastical exploration of humanity’s place in the universe.

By the 1960s, this dream-like landscape had become the stage set for a strange and fantastical exploration of humanity’s place in the universe. The US government was testing atomic weapons capable of destroying entire Soviet cities. Hippies were setting up communes, espousing an eco-friendly, anti-consumerist counterculture. NASA was preparing the Apollo astronauts, launching space rockets and mocking-up lunar landing sites. The deserts hosted two diametrically opposed worldviews, one that harnessed ultra-high-tech systems to destroy or escape the Earth, while another sought to protect the planet in off-grid townships of mud brick and free love. These two ideologies rarely engaged with each other directly — unless you count UFO sightings as a form of communication between mystics and the military.

One significant exception to this is Biosphere 2, whose story begins in 1969 at an ecovillage outside Santa Fe. The Synergia Ranch was founded by John Allen (an ex-scientist specializing in metal alloys) and his long-time partner Marie Harding (an artist and photographer). The couple shared a deep commitment to environmental sustainability, and an almost messianic belief that humanity’s future lay in colonizing other planets. They founded an artistic troupe at the Ranch called the Theatre of Possibilities, which used role-play to speculate on alternative presents and potential futures. One recurring science fiction scenario revolved around vivariums — self-contained artificial ecosystems capable of sustaining extraterrestrial human life on Mars, the Moon and during interstellar transit.

Within the first few months of its existence, the Ranch had attracted more than a dozen residents, including a man called Ed Bass. This Dallas billionaire had inherited oil money, but after graduating from Yale became disaffected by mainstream society. He drifted around from Nepal and Afghanistan to Greece and China, somehow eventually ending up in New Mexico. Here, the charismatic Allen drew him into the Ranch’s circle. He convinced Bass to bankroll a US $150m complex of colossal space-frame ziggurat vivariums. Together, they formed the Institute of Ecotechnics to pursue the idea, and spent the next decade conducting preparatory research — engaging all manner of expert scientists and consultants, including the Director of Kew Gardens Ghillean Prance. ‘Their interest in science is not genuine,’ he said in a 1983 interview. ‘They seem to have some sort of secret agenda, they seem to be guided by some sort of religious or philosophical system.’

In 1984, Bass and Allen established a joint venture company Space Biosphere Ventures, and formally launched Biosphere 2. Marie, who had just returned from the first modern Western expedition to Szechwan province, and was completing a film about the architecture of Iran while training to become a Karate black belt, became Vice President of Finance. A piece of land was acquired in Oracle, Arizona and construction began in 1987.

Biosphere 2 remains the largest vivarium ever constructed, and its hermetically sealed interior is more than 13,000 m2 (equal to about forty Boeing 747s). Above ground, there are six primary ecosystem enclosures: 1,900 m2 of tropical rainforest, 850 m2 of ocean (including a coral reef), 450 m2 of mangrove swamp, 1,300 m2 of savannah grasslands, 1,400 m2 of fog desert and a 2,500 m2 agricultural compound with laboratories and living quarters for 8–10 ‘biospherians’ (also sometimes called terranauts). Electricity comes from an industrial gas power plant. Under the ground, a complicated network of ducts and utilities allow for precise control of the ecosystem variables; carbon scrubbers, heaters, dehumidifiers and air conditioners control atmospheric conditions. During the day, heat in the greenhouses causes the air volume to massively expand, while at night it cools and contracts — to accommodate this fluctuation, two massive accordion ‘lungs’ contain the overflow. Various species, from insects to small mammals, were packed into each environment. After four years, the vivarium was poised like a wound watch.

On 26 September 1991, eight terranauts sealed themselves inside Biosphere 2 and did not come out for almost two years. During this time the only contact was by telephone and CCTV, with no material (not even air) entering or exiting the system. For the first twelve months, the biospherians suffered quite badly. The oxygen levels dropped to a dangerously low level, making the terranauts constantly drowsy and irritable. The farm produced bananas, papayas, sweet potatoes, beets, peanuts, rice and wheat. However, it did not produce enough food, and a low-calorie diet saw the average terranaut lose 16% of their body mass.

Time magazine wrote, ‘the veneer of credibility, already bruised by allegations of tamper-prone data, secret food caches and smuggled supplies, has cracked... the two-year experiment in self-sufficiency is starting to look less like science and more like a $150 million stunt’.

The rainforest and mangrove flourished, but the fog desert became too humid. The ocean needed periodic intervention to maintain pH balance, but overall it was healthy, and the corals reproduced. Unfortunately, most of the insects died, while cockroaches and ants overran every ecosystem. More problematically, the hungry biospherians had split into two rival factions that were barely on speaking terms. One group, led by Jane Poynter, advocated for importing food into the system. They believed the ability to conduct research was more important than maintaining total closure. The rival group, led by Abigail Alling, argued the opposite: that Biosphere 2 must remain a perfectly contained experiment. Rising tensions came to a head when the Poynter faction conducted a night raid on seed stocks, gorging themselves. Poynter was subsequently fired, but refused to leave the compound — correctly guessing that there was no one who would be prepared for break the seal.  Over the next year, the crew struggled on with their experiments and infighting. Eventually, they were forced to inject oxygen into the carbon-saturated ecosystems. They also had to evacuate an injured terranaut, who was accused of smuggling food into Biosphere 2 when they returned. Coverage by the press was intense, with mixed reports from inside the Biosphere combining with misunderstanding about the project ambitions. The result was public controversy and confusion. Time magazine wrote, ‘the veneer of credibility, already bruised by allegations of tamper-prone data, secret food caches and smuggled supplies, has cracked... the two-year experiment in self-sufficiency is starting to look less like science and more like a $150 million stunt’.

After a brief intermission to recalibrate the ecosystems (and exterminate the cockroaches and ants), a second mission was announced in March 1994. By June, disagreements between Bass and Allen about the future of the project became untenable. A series of power moves unfolded quite quickly, which resulted in the collapse of funding. Bass seems to have lost the faith: not only did he dissolve Space Biosphere Ventures, but he called in Steve Bannon to administer the liquidation of Biosphere 2. The hapless terranauts were not told about the external chaos, and continued to monitor and manage the vivarium. Three months later, terranauts from the first mission broke into the compound and gained access to one of the greenhouses, communicating with the crew and terminating the mission. Legal battles continued to swirl around Biosphere for a further decade, but in essence the experiment was dead: killed not by scientific concerns (the second mission had attained oxygen stability and improved crop yield) but by crew in-fighting, psychological tensions, power politics, and disputes over how the project should be managed. The world of eco-futurism had tussled with high-tech capitalism, and neither had come off well. Ultimately, Biosphere 2 is a lesson — as if one needed it — in the sad reality that in overcoming the basic struggle with nature for existence, humanity has become its own worst enemy.

MacGuffin Issue 6 is now available at Archinect Outpost, in our online shop and our retail store in Downtown Los Angeles, located at 900 E. 4th Street, Los Angeles, CA 90013.

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