Why biosphere 2 failed

It is essentially a sphere of life around the Earth, in this case totally closed and energetically open. The crazy project extending over an area of 1. It houses a tropical forest, water helmets, an artificial ocean, forest, savannah, mangrove, land reserved for agriculture, a human habitat with its private quarters and workplaces, as well as a basement floor for the technical installations.

Hot and cold water circulated through a network of independent pipes in a complex system. This project, even if it failed, particularly with regard to the recycling of air, had the merit of showing how difficult it is to control an ecosystem. Two missions were carried out in this building. The first lasted two years and the second 6 months. We worked in a kind of slow-motion dance, with no energy wasted. If the oxygen levels had dropped any lower, there could have been serious health issues.

To add to their stress, the biosphere became a tourist destination in order to recoup the high cost involved. As they starved, struggled to breathe, cockroaches began to take over , and mites attacked their crops, they were being watched like they were in a zoo. The group became fractured, throwing cups and spitting at each other.

With morale as low as the oxygen levels mainly the latter , it was decided that the crew should be given food, as well as the secret seeds and vitamins that were being snuck into the complex every fortnight. Half of the crew wanted to continue without outside supplies, while the other half were keen on things such as "food" and "being able to breathe".

It was decided that oxygen and food should be supplied to the crew, who lived out the rest of the time in their cut-off sustainable habitat by The biggest takeaway from the project was essentially to expect the unexpected. When they went in, the team hadn't anticipated problems such as drops in oxygen it transpired that the soil had been infested with oxygen-gulping bacteria , perhaps because the whole project was started by a hippie theater troupe rather than scientists.

They had to ensure each biome had correct temperatures and rainfall amounts, desalinate water, collect and circulate water, treat wastewater, strip our air of trace gases and even create mild breezes. Biosphere 2 had to support life while not unwittingly polluting it with machines and materials whose presence might have unforeseen side effects.

As a result, wool and wood were used for flooring, wall paneling and furnishings in living areas. Same with fires—even lit birthday candles. Inside the Bubble On September 26, , we entered Biosphere 2 to begin our experiment. Like astronauts, we had plenty of tasks to fill our days. Farming took up 25 percent of our waking time, research and maintenance 20 percent, writing reports 19 percent, cooking 12 percent, biome management 11 percent, animal husbandry 9 percent.

We spent the rest of our time doing media interviews and handling miscellaneous matters. We built in off days for rest and to observe changes in our growing biosphere. We grew our food and raised and slaughtered livestock. We worked in labs, maintained equipment, and spent time in our living quarters. Growing good nutritious food was a top priority, requiring everyone to work three to four hours a day for five days a week. None of us had come from a farming background. Hunger became a new experience—and our constant companion.

We existed the way humans had for time immemorial. Did our farming improve as we went along? You bet. Hunger is a great motivator. Among our 80 crops were rice, yams, peanuts, sorghum, millet, beets, wheat, carrots, peppers, bananas, figs, tomatoes, kale, eggplant, onions, papayas, beans, sweet and white potatoes, squash and herbs. A total of 3, species of plants and animals coexisted in Biosphere 2.

We imported four species of beneficial cockroaches to recycle organic matter. Unfortunately, that great evolutionary survivor—the household cockroach—snuck in and exploded in crop-threatening numbers, as did another stowaway species, ants.

We reveled in simple pleasures. We treasured each cup. For a pizza, we spent four months growing a crop of wheat, which then had to be threshed and ground. Tomatoes, peppers and onions had to ripen. No minute delivery for us. Though we had a mostly vegetarian diet, we occasionally made special dishes from small amounts of meat a quarter pound per person per week , eggs and milk.

We raised a species of small pigs, pygmy goats and a variety of chickens—a scrappy Mexican breed, elegant Japanese Silkies and bantams with cocky attitudes. Fish was a rare treat. We raised and harvested tilapia in rice paddies. Dozens of species of tropical fish—and 2-foot-long giant Pacific clams—populated our ocean. We found satisfaction in caring for our animals and even gave them names. Our milking goats included Milky Way, Stardust and Vision. We dubbed two pigs Zazu and Quincy.

Coachloads of tourists and schoolchildren arrived daily to tap on the glass and take pictures of the emaciated crew. Leigh remembers anthropologist Jane Goodall coming to visit.

Cups were thrown and people were spat at, but thankfully there was no violence. The other group had other ideas. In other words, keep the biosphere closed and retain the purity of the experiment, no matter the cost. A similar debate was going on outside. Eventually extra food was smuggled in and two oxygen pop-ups followed.

The biospherians were overjoyed. The intention, in fact, was to continue the experiment, learning from their mistakes. A second mission went into the biosphere in March , and looked to be faring better. A month later, though, out of the blue, Ed Bass decided on a mass purge. The purpose was to make the project more businesslike, it seems. Yes, that Steve Bannon. Investment banker, future right-wing operator and Donald Trump strategist. As a metaphor for the fate of the planet, it could hardly be more apt.