The authors would like to express their gratitude to Arnaud Saint‑Martin for his feedback on an earlier draft of this introduction and to Jonathan Givan for his review of the translation.
1. The future of aeronautics, the future through aeronautics
In 1912, Michelin printed one million copies of a brochure with the catchphrase “Our future is in the air.1” This slogan had already appeared the previous year in the Michelin Aerocible Prize, and was drawn by Pablo Picasso in three of his paintings.2 Although mocking the vogues and obsessions of the time, Picasso’s works are a reminder of the interest many artists took in aviation during its infancy.3 The formula can also allude to the avant‑garde artistic movement’s role as pathfinders, which is probably why the catchphrase is sometimes attributed to the artist rather than to the industrialist.4 In any case, the appearance of this phrase in a publication distributed by Michelin is significant.
The brochure included texts by military experts and journalists summoned by the industrialist. They made very concrete demands for aircraft, aviators and money in order to create an air force. The cover suggested a national air future in a more abstract way. However, this vision was merely the extrapolation of a group whose main aim was to develop the military usage of aviation. As a representation of the future, the slogan was indeed an anticipation, but one that was part of a propaganda activity5 as well as, for the Michelin brothers, a self‑promotional activity advertizing the involvement of their company with the nation.6
Detached from the brochure, the slogan could just as easily apply to several other conjectures which, at the beginning of the 20th Century, flourished and gave substance to the expectations or fears aroused by the new flying techniques being tested in Europe and on the American continent. Airships, helicopters and aeroplanes all featured in a variety of accounts, testifying to a forward‑looking, anticipatory mindset that mapped out various futures.
Although throughout the 19th century the problem of aerial locomotion – that is, the ability to maneuver through the air – fueled a dynamic of technical research,7 the aeroplanes developed between 1903 and 1908 had no practical ends.8 As Emmanuel Chadeau has remarked, uses and users had yet to be found;9 one could even say invented. During the years 1908‑1910, when aviation was first introduced to the public, the press, industrialists, patrons and political decision‑makers were mobilised in favour of the aeroplane. The upheavals “promised” by developments in aviation were a constant feature of the discourse promoting this new mode of aerial locomotion.10 In these years of effervescence, the aeroplane was initially seen as the future of sporting competitions – the discourses matched the facilities whose architecture, like that of Port‑Aviation in Juvisy, borrowed directly from the codes of horse racing – acrobatic shows, advertising, war or of the transport of people and goods. Years later, after the trauma of the Great War, the use of aviation was still due to be defined;11 then, aviators came to be seen as a new (and higher) types of human beings.12 Illiberal parties and totalitarian regimes were not the only ones to seek to exploit the revolutionary potential of a flying human, but they largely picked up this reference, thus modifying (and masculinizing) this incarnation of a new society.13 In such narratives, anticipations switched interest from the technical changes of the present to more distant futures shaped by political projects.14
As these few examples show, speculation and possible futures associated with human flight are many and varied. In order to grasp the expectations and fears linked to air travel or projected onto aviation, it is therefore essential to consider the diversity of visions of the future that coexist or follow each other, i.e. to deploy and analyse the futures of the past.15 Such an approach is also necessary to better understand how the enlisting of the future plays a part in negotiating a technological development path or a national policy.16 The study of these past futures should also not be neglected in order to shed light on the contemporary issues faced by the aeronautical sector, and to take account of the influence on the present of historically dated and situated imaginary futures.17
2. Futures in outer space
Similar observations apply equally to outer space activities. An additional feature, which can become a pitfall, arises from the number of works that situate human societies in outer space or envision encounters with extraterrestrial peoples (a situation that assumes the existence of modes of communication or locomotion in the cosmos). In comparison, imaginary aerial societies are far less common than imaginary outer space societies (if we exclude angels, divinities and other spirits willingly placed in the heavens, if not by theologians at least by popular tradition). Mentions or descriptions of spaceflight cannot simply be reduced to the prefiguration of a hoped‑for future.
Within the genre of political utopia, other planets were easily suited to the setting of fictional states and ideal worlds from which authors could criticise their own while escaping censorship. At the end of the 18th Century, when utopian narratives increasingly relied on time travel rather than space travel, utopia took on the role of a hopeful reworking of social and political reality. The promise of a future society took shape and the link between fiction and action became tighter. What to infer from stories involving journeys in outer space? Since physical travel was materially impossible, such a journey could precisely symbolise the difficulty of achieving the hoped‑for goal; it would not be a foreshadowing of spaceflight.18 The challenge, then, is to identify what, for some authors, might be symbolic, while for others, a similar motif might indicate a questioning of a possibility be it unlikely, a projection that extrapolates what already exists while remaining marked by a hesitation between the possible and the impossible.19
Adventure stories, which flourished from the 1860s onwards, are among the stories that bear a close relationship to scientific knowledge and technology. For his contemporaries, the “model” of Jules Verne’s novels united reality and fiction in scientific reasoning (without necessarily incorporating imaginary scientific elements). As such, it was gradually characterised as anticipation in the literal (and not just literary) sense: the marvelous science it involved seemed likely to become true in the future20 – which opened the way to an interpretation of the space travel in Jules Verne’s work (or that of other authors who drew inspiration from it) in terms of prefigurations and projections into the future. Here again, however, interpretation remains somewhat challenging. Patrick Désile has thus recently re‑examined Georges Méliès’s Voyage dans la Lune, commonly seen as one of the first anticipation or science fiction films. By comparing the film with other types of contemporary spectacle, he has shown that the movie was less a prefiguration of a physical displacement than a play on the visual similarities made possible by optical techniques.21 The author, a specialist of late 19th‑Century curiosity shows and cinema, has compared the topicality of the trip to the Moon with the many optical devices, both scientific and fairground, that were being used more and more. He has stressed out that it was above all the eye that travelled and the gaze that changed.22 Hence his conclusion:
The trip to the Moon, which in the nineteenth century might have seemed to stem from a desire to conquer daunting but new spaces, and to prefigure a desired yet still imaginary future, was perhaps, for a long time, something quite different: less a desire for travel than a desire to see, and to see the Moon, no doubt, but also, fictitiously, to see the Earth from the Moon, the Earth, round and floating in space, strange, and to envision, not its future, but its past.23
The theme of outer space exploration continued to be widely exploited throughout the 20th Century, by popular novelists and, above all, by science fiction comic strips and films from the 1950s onwards. However, these “anticipations” (the term has come to be used to designate the literary genre) were not all prefigurations24 – at least for those who created them, even though some authors envisaged the possibility of spaceflight by turning to fiction so as not to lose credibility in their professional fields.
The relationship between space travel and science fiction is by no means clear‑cut,25 and the continent of fiction, whether in literature or film, cannot simply be reduced to the idea of prefiguration or future vision. However, the accumulation of visions, discourses and images sediment into representations that accustom minds and eyes to imagining the human occupation of outer space,26 Some texts may nurture individual dreams and desires for space travel,27 but all of them may also crystallise into collective projections, blurring the boundaries between dream, fantasy, plausibility, social project and funded and implemented programmes.
“Astrofuturism”, in the sense of the intimate link between utopian speculation and outer space future,28 played a key role in the structuring of the space sector in both the United States and the Soviet Union from the 1950s onwards. Forecasting outer space activities is far from being a simple personal or intimate fantasy. From practical uses to settlements in space, forecasting outer space activities responds to the demands of society. It is a way of justifying and giving meaning to public investment. As such, it serves the emergence of a shared narrative whose mobilising virtue is performative. Hence, the reappearance of scenarios such as human settlement on Mars in a wide range of discourses, from claims in defense of civil space programmes to grand visions of human colonisation of space, should not be a surprise,29 Contemporary space news is full of visions that revive some of the motifs of an astrofuturism that was born more than a century ago. While their main aim, from the point of view of industrialists, is to sell outer space, i.e. to monetise it30 – it is important to identify and analyse ambitions and ideas that go hand in hand with past futuristic visions that still operate in the present.31
3. Aims and content of the issue
This issue aims to contribute to on‑going studies of “aerial culture” and “astroculture” through a focus on past visions of the future involving aeronautics or spaceflight.32 We propose to limit our investigation to different forms of foresight which play with the articulation of fiction and reality to combine the existing and the possible. We will talk of “rational anticipations”, not to make a reference to economic theory, but instead to stress this focus on works which extrapolate a technological future and associated applications and social evolutions from the contemporary world. Such forms of anticipation oscillate between predicting and shaping the future.
Conceived as a proposal that can help us explore the vast territories of aero‑ and astrofuturism,33 this reduction is sufficiently broad to allow for the consideration of a variety of forms of projection into the future. These forms are thus amenable to analysis using a variety of tools, depending on the sources considered and the disciplinary approach adopted (from the point of view of media culture,34 in terms of mechanisms related to an “economy of techno-scientific promises,35” “sociotechnical imaginaries,36” or situated forms of “projects37”). Rational anticipations considered in this issue reflect this diversity, ranging from novelistic conjectures (Zacharie Boubli), to projects involving the State and industrial actors (Sébastien Richez) or reflections on the theory of aerial warfare (Ashley Vieira). Catherine Radtka analyses projections into the future that serve to promote and credibilise a new techno‑scientific field, while François Rulier explores how a new flying machine is understood and categorised. Above all, however, what this issue wishes to highlight is the diversity of the rationalities at play. Thus, the papers examine practices rooted in different professional sectors and cultures that generate a particular interest in aerospace innovations, far from a modernist vision of social evolution resulting from necessary technical innovations. Some of these practices appear to have contributed to the realisation of their visions through their performative nature. Others, however, have encountered competing rationalities. Their failure to succeed also makes them part of a long history of unfulfilled futures, where false promises stand side by side with plans disconnected from physical, technical or social reality.
In “French Air Power through the Lenses of Speculative Fiction (1783‑1930)”, Z. Boubli examines fictional accounts based on technical extrapolations in the service of an air force. He shows that fictional exploration allows authors not only to take stock of a technical development (the material possibility of flight, dirigibility, etc.), but also to reflect on the nature of power and, particularly in the case of military authors who resorted to the genre of fiction between the two world wars, to defend the development of an autonomous air force.
A. Vieira’s article also deals with this theme, but concentrates on the anticipations of General Paul Armengaud (1879‑1970). Unlike Z. Boubli’s compilation of resolutely fictional works, the writings studied in this second paper are published over a shorter period, between 1928 and 1932; as treatises, they also show a grasp of concrete reality in order to engage in a theoretical reflection on modern warfare that is also a plea for the autonomy of the air force.
The next contribution, by C. Radtka, covers the same period, but focuses on the public activities of Robert Esnault‑Pelterie (1881‑1957) and Alexandre Ananoff (1910‑1992) to promote space travel. It shows how both link past, present and future to historicise astronautics and how, despite their differences, they mobilise concrete achievements of the inter‑war period in the field of propulsion as well as projections into the long‑term future to establish the credibility of astronautics.
Technical progress made in propulsion, which lead to the first flight of the X‑15 “rocket plane” in June 1959, aroused the interest of the legal experts studied by F. Rulier in his article. Although the idea of interplanetary travel was not on their agenda, these lawyers followed very closely developments regarding spaceflight. For them, it was not just a question of curiosity in an international context marked by the “firsts” in outer space, but rather a question of establishing legal rules adapted to the future exploration of space, in order to avoid a legal vacuum. Their willingness to anticipate the future in order to adapt to it explains their interest in the X‑15 and, more generally, in the development of aerospace.
The case studied by S. Richez also illustrates the attention paid to the development of aerospace techniques by outsiders. His study of the postal service’s interest in rocketry takes us into the very logic of this administration. Here, the rocket is not a synonym for interplanetary flight, as in the case of space advocates, or even for sub‑orbital flight, as in the case of the X‑15. In the 1930s, it was part of a vision of transport that could cover an entire geographical area, regardless of topographical obstacles. In the 1950s and 1960s, it was part of the quest to reduce the time taken to transport mail. The postal rocket is also a form of unmanned human flight, as well as an example of a use of technology in the aerospace sector that was seriously considered, at least by some of the players, and then abandoned.
The articles presented in this issue, while highlighting various forms of anticipation and uses of futuristic visions, do not exhaust the many questions that can be asked about the obsession with the future expressed in the field of aeronautics and space. In fact, projection into the future seems to accompany the entire material and concrete history of aeronautics (including ballooning) and outer space. This history is itself part of a period marked by a profound transformation in our experience of time and the future. With this issue on rational anticipations, we thus hope to contribute to the cultural history of aeronautics and space, but above all we wish to stress the wide range of the “futuristic” dimensions of these activities and open up the field of possibilities for further collaboration and multidisciplinary studies.