Monsters: The Hindenburg Disaster and the Birth of Pathological Technology

by Ed Regis

"Oh, the humanity!" Radio reporter Herbert Morrison's words on witnessing the destruction of the Hindenburg are etched in our collective memory. Yet, while the Hindenburg -- like the Titanic -- is a symbol of the technological hubris of a bygone era, we seem to have forgotten the lessons that can be learned from the infamous 1937 zeppelin disaster.

Zeppelins were steerable balloons of highly flammable, explosive gas, but the sheer magic of seeing one of these behemoths afloat in the sky cast an irresistible spell over all those who saw them. In Monsters , Ed Regis explores the question of how a technology now so completely invalidated (and so fundamentally unsafe) ever managed to reach the high-risk level of development that it did. Through the story of the zeppelin's development, Regis examines the perils of what he calls "pathological technologies" -- inventions whose sizeable risks are routinely minimized as a result of their almost mystical allure.

Such foolishness is not limited to the industrial newer examples of pathological technologies include the US government's planned use of hydrogen bombs for large-scale geoengineering projects; the phenomenally risky, expensive, and ultimately abandoned Superconducting Super Collider; and the exotic interstellar propulsion systems proposed for DARPA's present-day 100 Year Starship project. In case after case, the romantic appeal of foolishly ambitious technologies has blinded us to their shortcomings, dangers, and costs.

Both a history of technological folly and a powerful cautionary tale for future technologies and other grandiose schemes, Monsters is essential reading for experts and citizens hoping to see new technologies through clear eyes.

Genres: History, Science, Nonfiction, American History, Technology

352 pages, Hardcover

First published September 8, 2015

About the author

Ed Regis holds a Ph.D. in philosophy from New York University and taught for many years at Howard University. He is now a full-time science writer, contributing to Scientific American, Harper's Magazine, Wired, Discover, and The New York Times, among other periodicals.

Reviews

[Dee Eisel · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked this book with a strong caveat: I don't buy his argument. I give it four stars because it's well-argued, but I don't agree with his conclusions.

Regis lays out a case, using the Hindenburg, the abandoned supercollider in Texas, the theorized generation ships, and the planned usage of nuclear weapons as construction tools (to blast out canals or harbors, for example) that there are some forms of technology which instigate "the Delirium" and keep people pouring funds and time into them when they can obviously be seen as worthless, an endless time and money sink without promise. I disagree with this conclusion.

The book is worth reading for its history. Many people don't know about Project Plowshare and the nuclear weapons. I learned about the supercollider about a year ago from a documentary on the Large Hadron Collider, and I try to keep up with science stories. If you're not familiar with any of these things, especially a good overview of the history of Zeppelin design and who was involved, it's worth the price of admission for that alone.

Regis is a good writer and gives each point clearly and concisely. I just disagree. I think that, while certainly mistakes have been made in the past (I cannot defend Project Plowshare under any circumstances), Big Science has knock-on benefits for the world. Whether it's velcro or discovering more about oxygen pressure, whether it's learning more about the building blocks of the universe so we one day may be able to step around the very issues he raises about the generation ships, I don't consider these things a waste.

What I do think is that people are really bad about the Sunk Cost fallacy, and when to tell the difference between when it's time to bail out and time to keep going. I can absolutely see that the supercollider might have been biting off more than we could chew. But exploring the technology that could lead to a generation ship is a wonderful thing.

We learned so much about aviation from Zeppelins and other dirigibles. Airplanes may be the better way to fly, but my grandmother watched the Akron and the Macon come out of the hangar in Akron, and hundreds of people were employed over time building them. Today the ships would be much safer, but no one cares. How does this "Delirium" work then? (And as a Werewolf: The Apocalypse player, I cannot help but giggle every time he used that.)

Some people may agree with his premise, and I certainly can't fault anyone for being convinced and sharing his point of view after this book. This is what intelligent debate looks like, and I will cheerfully read more of his books!

[Beth Cato · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book presents a fascinating approach to "pathological technology," advancements that are inherently foolhardy and dangerous yet are so cool that people persist in perpetuating it anyway. The main focus (about 2/3 of the book) is on the Hindenburg, and that's where the book excels. Regis shows the evolution of airship tech through the 19th century and the vital role played by Zeppelin, and how the "Delirium" induced by airships caused his company to flourish despite sequential airship disasters. The details on the Hindenburg disaster are fascinating and well-written.

Where the book feels less persuasive is in chapters on atomic advancements and future space technology, especially the latter. Maybe I've simply succumbed to science fiction "delirium" myself, as a writer in the genre, but I felt like he was sneering at scientific developments that don't exist yet and had no right to judge them as "pathological yet."

While not a perfect book, it is a fairly quick read and certainly worthwhile for the data on the rise and fall (literally and figuratively) of airships.

[Kaitlyn Concilio · Rating 2 out of 5]

This is either a very poorly constructed argument for a taxonomy of technology that forever loses the thread when it wanders into blimps, or a decent history of the folly of Zeppelins with a malformed treatise on the author's invented "pathological technologies" grafted on. Either half can't be given more than three stars, and this is not a case where there's anything gained by pairing them together.

I don't even necessarily think the author's theory is wrong or uninteresting, but the examples he chooses seem spectacularly ill-advised and not internally consistent. He also presents an extraordinarily narrow of view of how science happens and what benefits any individual project or research brings.

Written two centuries earlier, one can imagine the scorn brought onto "electricity" — imagine the immense expense of installing wires into every home simply in order to give light, which we already have with fire. How could one possibly hope to harness such a fundamental energy of the cosmos?

Extra bonus raspberries are due for attempting to sarcastically damn with faint praise a DARPA project as having an "original" way of doing things because the agency funded an outlandish idea (a 100-Year Starship program) in the hopes that something good might come out of it — in other words, every DARPA project, ever.

[June · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting if you don't know much about the Hindenburg. The author has a good sense of humor and frequently made me laugh out loud. Which sounds kind of cold considering the subject, but... The book talks briefly about the Plowshare project and a great book just on this subject is The Firecracker Boys.

[Paul · Rating 3 out of 5]

If this book had simply only covered an unbiased account of the Hindenburg disaster and some history on Zeppelin's I would have rated it a lot higher as it is very readable. Where it fails, is the authors continual bias when recounting history on what he considered to be the "Pathological Technology".

It taints his descriptions of history with criticisms towards the people involved and the achievements they made - I just don't agree with the authors viewpoint.

To give an example - the author describes some early balloon flights before the Write brothers had invented the airplane as pathological - at the time there was no other means of flight, these people were pioneers in my view and do not deserve the criticism.

Many technologies start off as very expensive and unsafe and over time the technologies if worthy of continuation do improve, become safer, and reduce in cost. To not even start out on such a journey because initially it is dangerous seems very shortsighted.

My final point, given the description of what the author considers to be a "pathological technology" it would appear that the Apollo moon landing program is an obvious pathological technology. The author brushes this off stating the program was not expensive enough. I would think 250 billion in today's money meant it should have been included - I think the author rather conveniently chose to not include it as it breaks his entire argument.

[Tiffany · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book is well-written and the story of the creation of zeppelins was interesting, but the author loses me on the basic premise. He first compares zeppelins to alchemy to support his view that such technology should not be pursued, but the study of alchemy led to chemistry.

His later arguments that use examples like the H-bomb, the superconducting supercollider, and air travel between stars are weak at best, especially considering none of the projects actually came to fruition due to limitations of technology and concerns with the effectiveness and safety of the projects proposed. The author is unable to produce an example of a pathological technology beyond the development of the zeppelin itself.

[Jennifer · Rating 4 out of 5]

From the star average, it looks like I'm in the minority, but I found this book thought-provoking. It does go against the grain of our mythological narratives about science, in that Regis argues that some projects might be better off unfunded and unattempted. Personally, I like a good pie-in-the-sky science daydream. But as the author points out here, especially with his primary example of the Hindenburg fire and crash, there are times when time, expense, and even lives can be saved when a society learns to abandon projects that threaten to do more harm than good.

[Eric · Rating 4 out of 5]

The blurb of praise from eminent aerospace historian Richard P. Hallion, which appears on the cover jacket of Ed Regis's Monsters, calls this "an important book." Unfortunately, the best reason I can give for bothering with this book is that the preview on the inside jacket cover promises a unique, neurotic viewpoint on technology. I would like to understand the basis and context for Hallion's compliment, as it apparently ignores the weakness of Regis's central argument.
Regis has written a respectable technical description of the design, operation and destruction of the Zeppelins, outsized transports which, during a brief window of time, blocked out the skies with their imposing presence. The Zeppelin, named for its inventor and main proponent, Count Zeppelin, was initially constructed with private money. Despite multiple failed starts--ending with sometimes explosive crashes--the Count managed to raise money to construct one airship after another, eventually forming a company to make airships for the world's very first airline. Then, some years later, the Hindenburg disaster was recorded on film, and the zeppelin receded into history as a failed idea. Hindenburg was in fact one of the lesser zeppelin accidents as measured in cost of life, yet it was not until the inerent danger of flying in a hydrogen airship was portrayed visually for the masses, that people generally started to realize they might not be safe.
Regis uses the zeppelin as a primary example of what he calls a "pathological technology", which must meet four criteria: it is large in scale, underwritten by emotion, costly in comparison to its benefits, and its proponents systematically minimize its risks. In the middle of what is otherwise a coherent book about zeppelins, Regis inserts three chapters dedicated to nuclear geoengineering, super colliders and space ships, which he claims are three more examples of pathological technologies that, despite never having achieved the same operational use as commercial passenger services on airships, are somehow relevant.
The definition and exposition of pathological technology is the primary selling point for the book, but Regis's defense of his thesis is lacking. It seems more likely that Regis wanted to write four books, but only had time for one, and jamned the ill-conceived seeds of the three unfinished ones between the margins of the first. Then he concocted an improbable connection among them to make it seem like the disparate subjects belong together.
By his own definition, the zeppelin might not be pathological. Though zeppelins are voluminous, a lone wealthy man, a Count, was able to construct several of them with modest contributions from the government, investors and family. The Hindenburg was almost profitable as a service (although the heavier-than-air aircraft eclipsed it in every conceivable parameter).Thus the costs and benefits, human lives notwithstanding, were nearly equal, and that criterion for pathology is arguably not met.
Despite the tendentiousness of Regis's definition, there is yet some merit to it. Regis posits that certain technologies rise to a level that exceeds merely dangerous, poorly executed or capital-intensive. In Regis's world, there are *monsters*, and these *monsters* captivate the masses with their magic, consuming money and lives with deadly impunity. Regis is on a hunt for monsters. The main complaint this reader has about the book is not that Regis claims monsters exist; rather, my complaint is that he has failed to find any.
Interestingly, Regis explicitly states that the United States Space Shuttle is not a monster. The shuttle is massive, expensive, a symbol of America, and very risky to fly, but Regis makes this claim that its proponents could not deny its inherent flaws after two high-profile disasters unfolded on broadcast television in real-time, and therefore, it does not meet one of the criteria for pathology. This is revisionist history. We know, after the investigation of the Challenger accident, that NASA underestimated the Loss of Crew probability by a full order of magnitude. We also know that the management team had a difficult time interpreting plain data, all the way up to the Columbia accident many years later. Regis should have at least acknowledged the possibility that the Space Shuttle was "pathological" prior to 1986.
Perhaps the fact that Richard P. Hallion is a space shuttle enthusiast had something to do with Regis's decision to focus instead on the DARPA 100 Year Starship, rather than on Shuttle.
Another possible monster is Psychosurgery. Tens of thousands of people were given leucotomies based on very questionable clinical data, and a Nobel prize was awarded to the inventor of the procedure, because it seemed to provide hope of progress against mental illness. Its risks were systematically understated, to the point where its inventor is accused of misrepresenting the data. Now, we understand that randomly cutting into the brain is vastly more likely to do damage than good. Might this technology be considered vast in scope, emotionally driven, and costly beyond value?
I believe that Monsters exist. I think Regis should try harder to find some.

[Nick Black · Rating 2 out of 5]

i've read so very little this year, making me even more irritated that i bothered to read this piece of crap. i bought it from a sidewalk vendor in NYC back in 2017 at what seemed far less of a discount than one might expect from sidewalk bookmongers, and nothing good has come of it since. we get it, Regis, blimps ran away with your wife or something there's no need to remind us every two or three pages that hydrogen is still explosive.

[Dawn · Rating 3 out of 5]

This book started out really well. It went back in the zeppelin history to the early experiments in France as well as the story of Count Zeppelin. It goes on to the different zeppelins built by Germany, France, England and America. The history goes up to the destruction of the Hindenburg. Then it gets into the history of the hydrogen bombs. All in all a good history but gets a little dry in the last 1/4 of the book.

[Ben U · Rating 3 out of 5]

Read part one about Zeppelins and the Hindenburg.
Skip part two comparing the lessons he draws from the Hindenburg to other technologies.
Skim part three, particularly for some good followup on the Hindenburg.

The author clearly has a passion for zeppelins and their history. He dives deep into the history and development of these machines, on both sides of the Atlantic, and readers will pick up on this enthusiasm. Really, really fun stuff in this section (which comprises a little more than half the book).

And then... something happens. I am of the opinion that he wrote this marvelous little treatise on zeppelins, and the publisher told him he had to make it more broad, and so he added this notion of pathological technologies (where people push a technology that is clearly counterproductive, something that ultimately leads toward self destruction), and inserted a number of sentences along the lines of "here again we see the pathological tendencies..." in the middle of the zeppelin stuff, which always feel out of place, in my opinion.

Then he writes a new section that takes three other technological advancements and says "see? — this sort off thing keeps happening". The first of these technologies was an effort to use atomic bombs to clear land for roadways, ports, and other things that otherwise require large excavations. This one sort of toes the line that he created in part one. Fine. It doesn't seem to fit in with the tone of the first section, but fine.

Then he goes after an effort to build a larger-than-CERN particle accelerator in the US. Here things get very, very weird. First of all, this doesn't have the danger to life and limb that the other two do (unless you believed CERN was going to create a black hole that we'd all fall into, which isn't addressed in the book anyway). No, the author essentially argues that this is an obscure technology that no one can understand except (and I swear this is a quote) "the high priesthood of high-energy particle theory" (p.203). Anyone who has read a book about quantum theory knows it is filled with (1) very confusing behaviors that are (2) experimentally verifiable. CERN helps us see quantum behavior in ways we cannot observe otherwise. And another large particle accelerator could do the same, or better. But the author feels that the results are too erudite, or something. As though unless the result can be understood by the masses it isn't worth pursuing. (Consider the fact that we use equations from general relativity to pinpoint our locations from GPS satellites, though few of us would ever be able to make sense of how that works, or why, yet we all use it.)
In short, I think he sets up quantum mechanics as a straw man. Because his publisher told him it had to be about more than just Zeppelins.

Next he attacks efforts for interstellar travel. His argument here is, admittedly simplified, "What's the point? It isn't going to work anyway." And that's that. Seriously. I mean, he makes a lot of arguments to support his case (whoever goes out there is almost guaranteed to die rather than to save humanity). I say he lacks imagination here, or if he has some imagination here he represses it in order to meet the demands of his publisher. Again, straw-man arguments. Listen to this, from page 232, in support of not going on an interstellar exploration: "Staying home and doing nothing was as deeply ingrained in human DNA as the practice of making extended voyages to far-flung destinations. For every Magellan, Marco Polo, or Captain Cook there were hundreds if not thousands of humans who never strayed far from their own place of birth." So.... just stay home. It's in our blood to stay home. Page 240: "This, then was the situation. There appeared to be no good reason for going to the stars to begin with, and no good way to get there" — therefore, why are we even trying? Just drop the whole space thing. Then he points out that the Apollo crews left garbage on the moon, which is disgusting, and we're not helping anyone out through space travel; it just makes things worse. He ultimately calls the notion of interstellar travel "an extreme degree of juvenile aspiration," as though he understood all technology that will exist 100 years from now. So knock it off and stay home. This is deeply disturbing stuff to me, to quash aspirations to reach out to the stars. "Arguably, the building and launching of a manned interstellar starship would be one of the most wasteful, expensive, dangerous, and foolish projects in all of human history"(244).

While he is critical of the Zeppelin builders' lack of foresight and desire to press forward recklessly, there clearly remains a sort of admiration for their innovation, their creativity in troubleshooting various problems that keep arising. As he moves on to these other technologies, he gets grumpier, more negative. It's as though, were he to undertake a project to build something, if he stubbed his toe, he'd immediately say "Nope! This is not worth it! Project over." His final argument is that these things should never have begun in the first place.

IN SUM: Loved the Zeppelin stuff. Appalled by the other stuff.

[Ruth · Rating 3 out of 5]

This introduced me to the history of dirgibles before the Hindenbirg disaster, which was interesting. But the author's view of how stupid people can be in the pursuit of "pathological " technology comes across as snobbish and belittling.

[Paul · Rating 4 out of 5]

Informative, occasionally overly verbosely baroque.

[Mike · Rating 4 out of 5]

Lighter than air craft have always fascinated me and this book went a long way to explain the inner workings of Dirigibles and why they would ultimately fail as weapons of war and as air-carriers. However, the overarching topic of the book was "Pathological Technology," which is defined as an out-sized bit of technology that actually contributes little as compared to its cost in blood and treasure.
Most of the book is devoted to the origin and history of balloons as weapons of war and machines of commerce so for that it is a great read. The other topics don't receive as much attention but are interesting in their own right.

The dirigible SHOULD have faded into a side note in aviation history after its first few failures, however, the Germans gathered 'round the temple of gigantism and through many, many private donations and the patronage of the Kaiser kept the airship far longer than it should have been tolerated. And this is where the author creates the term "Pathological Technology," a group of people smitten by the size (literally or figuratively) of a bit of technology that its flawed logic is kept aloft (pun intended).
The author also includes some other pathological technology that had millions of dollars poured into their coffers before they were finally canceled. For example: the belief that atomic weapons could be used to create "instant" harbors or canals. Thankfully the native Inuits of Alaska stood their ground and refused to allow a demonstration!
The other two topics are the super-collider started in the American Southwest and then the prospect of interstellar travel by encouraging engineers to pursue propulsion methodologies created by science fiction authors.

[Andy · Rating 2 out of 5]

Using the Hindenburg as a symbol for the bigger issue of "pathological technology" was very clever, but the book does not follow through on this promising big idea.

Instead it gets bogged down in trivia about zeppelins and hot air balloons. Despite all that detail, the reader does not get a clear picture of how pathological zeppelins were. They seem clearly idiotic now because of the flammable gas and the Hindenburg disaster. However, airplanes crash too and yet we are told they are much safer per mile traveled than driving. What was the safety record for zeppelins? On page 133, the author states that there had been zero passenger fatalities after years of commercial zeppelin service. This requires some sort of explanation.

When the book broadens its focus at the end, the other examples of pathological technology are, confusingly, things that were aborted before being put into practice. So actually those are success stories and it would have been interesting to contrast those with the Hindenburg experience and explore how we could do more rational assessment of various technologies.

[Cate · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very interesting ideas regarding pathological technologies. I had no idea about Project Plowshare--that sure isn't taught in history classes these days! Living in the post-atomic era, I accept radiation as a fact. I wonder what we're discovering right now that will have such great implications and consequences in the future? perhaps something in nano technology?

[Jessica · Rating 4 out of 5]

I am not sure that I agree with the author's negative assessment of Zeppelin technology, but the history of zeppelins and other airships is quite well done and very interesting.

[Mac Kie · Rating 1 out of 5]

I’ve no clue what this book is about! Zeppelins or white elephant projects?