Exploring the ethical event horizon: assessing an approach to responsible siting in black hole imaging

EXPLORING THE ETHICAL EVENT HORIZON: ASSESSING AN APPROACH TO RESPONSIBLE SITING IN BLACK HOLE IMAGING by Bailey Day A Senior Honors Thesis Submitted to the Faculty of The University of Utah In Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Honors Degree in Bachelor of Science In Physics Approved: ______________________________ Ramón Barthelemy, PhD Thesis Faculty Supervisor _____________________________ Carsten Rott, PhD Chair, Department of Physics _______________________________ Jordan Gerton, PhD Honors Faculty Advisor _____________________________ Monisha Patsupathi, PhD Dean, Honors College May 2024 Copyright © 2024 All Rights Reserved ABSTRACT The field of astronomy has a history of approaching large-scale development projects with a limited gauge of the interests of stakeholders beyond the immediate scientific community. Traditional processes of decision-making have demonstrated little regard for the broader communities affected by major observatory projects. For instance, the approach to the development of the Mauna Kea observatories in Hawaii, with the project’s history of protests, has been particularly troublesome. A recent episode in this ongoing conflict is the heightened contention surrounding the Thirty Meter Telescope at Mauna Kea, indicating that the question of the best approach to these projects remains unresolved. This dispute and those like it around the world make evident the present need for an approach to project development that incorporates input from pertinent stakeholders. The Next Generation Event Horizon Telescope collaboration (ngEHT) is an ongoing project that seeks to build on the work of the original Event Horizon Telescope collaboration, which saw success in creating the first images of black holes. The ngEHT will expand on this effort by building seven new telescopes across various continents to develop images and videos of black holes. A distinctive aspect of this project is the History, Philosophy, and Culture working group (HPC), which brings together social science and humanities perspectives to contextualize “the pursuit of scientific knowledge ii as it unfolds” (“HPC”). The Responsible Siting group is a focus group within the HPC, which is concerned with the general best practices and specific historical, cultural, environmental, and ethical studies in the consideration of new sites joining the ngEHT. In this project, I study how the ngEHT collaboration attempts to approach the task of telescope siting in a manner that aligns with ethical considerations and differs from historical approaches to siting in astronomy. I seek to analyze and evaluate the methods and goals of the Responsible Siting focus group within the larger collaboration while considering the underlying question of how effective a research project can be in deconstructing conflicting conceptions of value from a standpoint internal to the science. By closely monitoring the priorities and direction of discussion within the group, as well as the actions taken to integrate these discussions into the larger collaboration, I assess the challenges that arise when attempts to actualize ethical ideals encounter real-life constraints in the initiatives led by the Responsible Siting group. Given that the success of this effort has the potential to generate far-reaching consequences for the future of scientific practice and influence the structure of large-scale research projects, an appraisal of the group’s impact is due. iii TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT ii INTRODUCTION 1 SITING OF TELESCOPES: CONTINUED CONFLICT 3 THE RESPONSIBLE SITING GROUP 14 ETHICAL OUTCOMES via METHOD and LIMITATIONS 19 FIXED SCIENTIFIC GOALS 27 CONCLUSION 29 REFERENCES 33 iv 1 I. INTRODUCTION In this paper, I use an ongoing science research project in astronomy and astrophysics, the Next Generation Event Horizon Telescope collaboration, as a case study to understand the challenges that arise when attempts to actualize ethical ideals from philosophy of science are met with practical challenges in the research setting. The Next Generation Event Horizon Telescope collaboration (ngEHT) is an ongoing project that seeks to build on the work of the original Event Horizon Telescope collaboration (EHT), which saw success in creating the first images of black holes. The EHT collaboration accomplished this feat by linking existing radio dishes from telescope observatories across the globe to create an Earth-sized telescope array, with resolving power immensely greater than prior imaging methods. (Blackburn et al. 2019). The ngEHT will expand on the EHT’s effort by building seven new telescopes across various continents to further develop images and videos of black holes. The expansion of existing astronomical observatories through building new telescope arrays brings with it a unique set of challenges, some of which have historically manifested in significant episodes of conflict; these instances of conflict necessitate new approaches to conducting site selection and maintenance. I use successful principles of community engagement from public health policy to situate the work done by the Responsible Siting Group, and argue that many of the obstacles faced by the group at this stage reveal limitations of scientific infrastructure in adequately supporting this type of work. And yet, the positionality of the RSG in advancing decolonial lines of thinking from a place internal to science is a key aspect of their work. 2 In Section II, I will survey recent conflicts in the history of telescope siting to contextualize the challenge at hand and stakes in this work. In Section III, I will introduce the Responsible Siting Group within the ngEHT collaboration, and investigate the assumptions, models, and structures that guide their efforts in the larger project. In Section IV, I will consider how existing models and principles for effective community engagement explored in other fields might serve as a guide for promoting stakeholder inclusion in this case. Further, I will show how basic qualities of astronomy research complicate the direct applicability of such models. Noting the obstacles faced by the Responsible Siting Group, I present instances where these methodological suggestions encounter practical challenges in the research setting, revealing gaps in the philosophy of science literature. This paper takes an approach to the question of responsible siting that centers the experiences of Indigenous peoples via a framework that recognizes the evolving role of science as a process and institution with the ability to not only seek and build knowledge, but simultaneously advance existing hierarchies and colonialism. Another approach might examine this question through a lens that places more explicit emphasis on the environmental aspects of responsibility, for example. Doing so, however, might suggest that the question of how we can best protect environments as we do science is isolated from questions about how science can better engage disparate assumptions about how we ought to investigate our surroundings, and which voices are attended to in the process. Although on the global scale, not every telescope site encounters difficulties directly related to acquired lands, the variety of issues presented at any given telescope location, from political unrest and unfair labor conditions to poor relations with local 3 ranchers, can benefit from an understanding of how divergent worldviews between groups and historical power dynamics influence the reception of science infrastructure in a given region. It is important to note the historical perception of astronomy as a ‘neutral science’ when considering the issues of social justice and ethics relevant to these cases. Astronomy, alongside physics, has long embraced its position as a science concerned with distant truths about the universe and its origins: topics seemingly unafflicted by the messiness of human subjects research or questions of research ethics in fields such as medical biology. That astronomers have been historically excused, by the nature of their subject matter, from conversations pertaining to social responsibility contributes to the ongoing, discipline-wide struggle to sort out conflicts which might arise in telescope siting. These conflicts are certainly not unique to the discipline of astronomy; anthropology and archaeology have been faced with dialogues surrounding extraction and colonialism for many decades (Whyte & Gibson 2016) (Nicholas & Hollowell 2016). Astronomy finds itself in an interesting position however when these conversations occur in the context of multi-billion dollar, many decades-long telescope projects (Stepp et al 2003)(Schoeck et. al. 2009). With these stakes, concerns manifest in a different light, falling at the cross-section of massive amounts of federal scientific funding and overlapping social, political, and economic interests. II. SITING OF TELESCOPES: CONTINUED CONFLICT Telescope siting is the process of selecting and managing the location of a telescope and related observatory structures. Beyond the technical factors that influence 4 site selection aimed at optimizing the physical viewing conditions (low atmospheric turbulence, minimal light pollution, low humidity) the siting process might also consider the impact of the project on local communities including indigenous groups, approaches to education and outreach, procedures for collaborating with governmental agencies, etc. (Pernechele 2005) (Thomas-Osip et al. 2010)(Galison et al. 2023). Recent and ongoing conflicts at locations including the Thirty Meter Telescope (TMT) in Hawaii and at the observatories across the Atacama Desert in Chilé make apparent the need for consideration of best practices when approaching further development of telescope projects. I have selected these examples based on their relevance: the case of the TMT has gained traction in recent years in academic and public spheres, as contention surrounding the project of expansion and its mismanagement led to protests from scholars, activists, and Hawaiian people. The case from Chilé demonstrates larger trends in the goals and norms of instrumental astronomy on the international scale, as over half of the world’s ground-level astronomical observational infrastructure resides in the Atacama desert (Lehuedé 2022). I will use these two examples to explore dynamics that have historically complicated the process of siting telescopes, which depend heavily on their situated social and cultural contexts. II.1) Mauna Kea and The Thirty Meter Telescope The Mauna Kea Observatories in Hawaii became a marker of contention in the field of instrumental astronomy soon after the construction of the first telescope on the summit in 1969. The facility houses thirteen distinct observatory projects, and has seen several phases of expansion since its establishment (Herhold 2015). Each proposal to 5 expand the development at Mauna Kea has ushered in its own set of criticisms from various stakeholders that span environmental activists, Native Hawaiians both within and beyond the academic astronomy community, land management organizations, and grantawarded institutions seeking productive development, both scientifically and economically. Concerns toward initial development on the summit mounted regarding environmental impact and threat to the Wekiku bug, a rare species of arthropod known to exist only within the extreme conditions of the summit (Swanner 2013). As the observatory expanded, more involved claims about the detriment development might have on the ecological health and aesthetic state of the landscape surfaced, but generally failed to result in significant shifts in plans for construction. In the late 1990s voices of opposition toward the development of Mauna Kea from Native Hawaiians gained prominence. These dialogues rose in parallel with the Hawaiian Renaissance: a political and cultural movement emphasizing traditional Hawaiian values, motivating Native Hawaiian activism demanding rights and land sovereignty (Goodyear-Kaopua et al. 2014). Objections asserted that development would further desecrate the sacred quality of the summit, as Mauna Kea holds immense religious and cultural significance to Native Hawaiians as the center of creation (Johnson 2017). The elevation of Native Hawaiian’s concerns about the spiritual value of the summit and meaning of their traditional ancestral ties to it begged those at the forefront of observatory development to enact tangible measures in response to community criticism. This eventually led to the development of the Mauna Kea Advisory Committee in 1999, a board tasked with overseeing the 6 management and stewardship of the Mauna Kea Science Reserve. The recognition of pushback from Native Hawaiians at this time necessitated a shift in the details of the Master Plan for development at Mauna Kea, which described the cultural and environmental impact assessments, as well as the establishment of protocols for consultation and collaboration with Native Hawaiian communities, that more satisfactorily addressed Native Hawaiian stakes in the observatory’s expansion (Swanner 2013). At the turn of the decade, a new proposal funded by NASA to expand development at Mauna Kea gained traction: The Keck Outrigger telescope plan would introduce six new accessory telescopes onto the summit (Herhold 2015). Reactions to this project marked a shift in community response to formal development initiatives at Mauna Kea. What were previously piecemeal instances of opposition shifted into organized resistance against the plan, representing a grassroots collaboration between cultural and environmental activists, who presented structured objections at Mauna Kea Town Halls. Legal action against the Outrigger project was initiated in 2002, leading to the rejection of the land use permit necessary to proceed with the project (Reichhardt 2002). This was a large success for the local community, and occurred alongside a shift in the rhetoric employed by opponents of development that emphasized the connection between federally funded projects on traditional lands and colonial tactics (Swanner 2013). The latest episode in this ongoing conflict is the heightened contention surrounding the Thirty Meter Telescope project (TMT), an expansion whose original start 7 date was scheduled for 2013. The 2006 proposal for the TMT detailed a plan to build the largest optical telescope in the world: set to span five acres, rise 180 ft above the ground, and cost a projected 1.4 billion dollars (Naylor 2017). Previous conflict left astronomers aware of the importance of soliciting input from local communities, and documents released by the University of Hawai'i's Institute for Astronomy made it seem like scientists recognized the sacredness of Mauna Kea. However, many Native Hawaiians would argue that intentions to further develop the summit disproved this recognition (Marques 2018). Many initial local proponents of the TMT valued the promise of economic boost the project would deliver to the school system on the Big Island, with a proposed 1 million per year dedicated to funnel into math and engineering programs in surrounding schools (Suganuma 2021). The incorporation of education and outreach programs in funding plans for large scientific projects might positively affect how projects are perceived and welcomed by the surrounding community. And yet, questions arise regarding how the details in programs like these are agreed upon: were local school districts and young families on the island consulted? Were there other sorts of community education initiatives considered as alternatives? Did the inclusion of such a program represent an assumption by proposal-makers of what constituted the needs and demands of the local community? The situation of sustained conflict at Mauna Kea had been building for decades by the point of the TMT proposal, and astronomers were well aware that a successful proposal would need to facilitate positive outcomes for the community. In the absence of effective community engagement relationships and procedures–tacking 8 on a promise like this amidst larger concerns of land-protection and the sanctity of the mountain among Native Hawaiian communities comes across as a misplaced effort to incorporate considerations for the greater community. For some Native Hawaiians and environmentalists, the land-protecting motivations behind opposition for development surmounted any concept of benefit that the educational funding, economic bonus, or other social or scientific promises that the observatory laid claim to. The legality of the TMT was challenged in a similar manner to the previous Keck Outrigger project proposal, and after extensive deliberation the landuse permit was awarded. The process delayed the ground-breaking date by around a year to October of 2014. The groundbreaking ceremony was met with heavy protest by Native Hawaiian activists, who blocked the access road to the summit and challenged the development for its environmental irresponsibility and expense to the Hawaiian lands and people (Swanner 2017). The protests indicated a peak in the conflict at Mauna Kea and saw widespread media coverage–gaining traction in many circles. In the time since, the land use permit for development was struck down based on a due process failure within the initial approval process in 2011 (Dona & Singh 2017). This development left many Native Hawaiians unsatisfied, feeling that this explanation represented a convenient reassertion of bureaucratic norms rather than a recognition of the community’s opposition. Opponents of the TMT plan to protest the 65-year extension on the University of Hawaii's lease of the summit zone. The lease is set to expire in 2033, only 11 years into the TMT's planned course of operation (Loomis & Cho 2015). Though progress on the TMT remains barred today, a new state-appointed oversight board for the 9 summit began a five year transition to management in 2023. In 2028, the Maunakea Stewardship Oversight Authority (MKSOA) will assume stewardship of the summit from the University of Hawaii (UH), which has managed the site since 1968 (Matsuda 2023). II.2) Chilean Observatories and ALMA The Atacama Desert in Chile is home to the majority of the world’s terrestrial astronomical infrastructure (Lehuedé, S. 2021). This region has attracted many international astronomical organizations due to its exceptional viewing conditions and unique access to skies visible only from the southern hemisphere. Organizations such as the European Southern Observatory (ESO) and the Association of Universities for Research in Astronomy (AURA) have been granted access by the Chilean government to develop observatories in exchange for promises of economic development in agreements dating back to 1960 (ESO n.d.). The La Silla Observatory, inaugurated in 1969, marked the beginning of a series of development initiatives by the ESO in the region. Over the decades, Chile has experienced a succession of turbulent political regimes, which have posed challenges for the expansion of observatories. For instance, some projects whose permits were awarded during the reign of Pinochet faced legal challenges in the years following his regime (Los Angeles Times 1994). The significant international presence in the Atacama Desert region is often understood within the framework of big science, where scientific endeavors serve as topdown industry and economic boosters. Scholars like Barandiarian, however, suggest that this may not be the case for Chile. They argue that despite the substantial presence of foreign astronomy developments and funding in the Atacama Desert and surrounding 10 areas, Chilean astronomy might not be reaping the expected benefits (Barandiaran 2015). Discrepancies in markers like the number of Chilean astronomer PhDs produced and the country’s access to telescope viewing time raises questions about the equitable distribution of resources and opportunities within a country seen around the world as a premiere observatory location. II.2.1) The Case of the ALMA Telescope The Atacama Large Millimeter Array (ALMA), inaugurated in 2013, is the newest completed addition to the Chilean observatories. ALMA is operated and owned by an international consortium of astronomy organizations, and cost an estimated 800 million dollars to construct (Barandiaran 2015). The Chilean government granted 68 square miles of land to North American and European Institutions for the construction of the observatory in 2003. The land concession will last for at least 50 years, and as part of the agreement the partners will contribute $700,000 yearly to Chile for regional project finance and national scientific development (NRAO n.d.). The construction of ALMA was the first project by the ESO which involved consultation with local Indigenous communities, on account of its proximity to the local village of San Pedro. The ALMA website showcases a range of outreach and community engagement initiatives aimed at fostering meaningful connections with local communities. Efforts to garner local support take on three main forms: the ALMA Antofagasta Región Fund, local work in education, and engagement with the cultural environment in the surrounding region. The regional fund “promotes productive, social and economic development in the San Pedro de Atacama community. This competitive fund has helped to kick-start many 11 local initiatives, such as community tourism projects, water channeling, construction of community facilities and equipment, and water heating through the use of solar panels…” (ALMA Observatory n.d.). ALMA has funneled a net contribution of nearly 6.5 million USD into this fund over the course of the project. In education, ALMA has contributed nearly 1 million dollars since 2009 in support of science education initiatives in the local Toconao school. The observatory claims to pursue initiatives to preserve the cultural heritage of the Lickan Antay Indigenous people and their understanding of the cosmos. Through projects such as "The Universe of our Elders," ALMA has collaborated with local museums and researchers to document and protect ancient astronomical structures in the region. These structures, known as saywas, serve as markers for equinoxes, solstices, and other astronomic events. The observatory has supported educational efforts for cultural astronomy, including the creation of a video about the "Yakana" constellation, with the hope that future generations can maintain a connection to their ancestral myths and cultural astronomical knowledge (ALMA Observatory n.d.). Even with these initiatives, the ALMA development has failed to escape episodes of tension. In 2002 the Lickan Antay people protested the construction of the observatory in response to the land concession. Wilfredo Cruz, at the time the head of the Community of Toconao, the closest village to the ALMA site, describes how his community ascended the Chajanator mountain to protest, lay territorial claim to the land, and make traditional ancestral payments. The protest was responded to by Chilean state officials who asserted the observatory projects’ benefit to humanity and thousands of people, including Chileans (Lehuedé 2022). A second conflict occurred in 2016, with 12 ALMA’s decision to install natural gas pipelines in the region. The Lickan Antay people, concerned by the results of a land survey done by contractors of minimal familiarity with the region, visited the site themselves and found significant presence of the chululo rodent. They asserted that following through with the plan to install the pipeline would put the chululos at risk, prompting adverse environmental effects. Additional concern mounted regarding the preservation of archaeological sites along the planned vehicle route to the summit. In response to this contention, the road to the summit was rerouted, and the observatory funded an educational museum site for the preservation and display of these artifacts. The museum was inaugurated in July 2006, and stands as a reconstruction of one of the historical estancia dwellings found in the area. Upon the completion of the observatory, the museum opened to the public as part of a special visits program. Despite these developments, the topic of the management of artifacts remains a sensitive issue involving the surrounding community (Madsen 2012). In a more recent example from 2013, Chilean workers at the ALMA telescope conducted a labor strike. The strike lasted 17 days, ending after the labor union reached an agreement with observatory management to shorten shifts and lift wages of some of the members (Witze 2013). The strike mounted in response to the Chilean government’s history of providing special privileges to certain observatory workers, like tax exemptions for European astronomers, but not for Chilean workers. This has led to observatories operating almost autonomously within Chile, raising concerns about labor procedures. Stakeholders point out that while Chilean businesses facing safety issues can be inspected by relevant government agencies, there is no equivalent oversight mechanism for 13 observatories like those run by the ESO, leaving employees with limited avenues for protection (Witze 2013). II.3) Overview of Ethical Considerations and Potential Conflicts The cases of Mauna Kea and the Chilean observatories in the Atacama Desert highlight ethical considerations and potential conflicts within telescope siting projects. Despite scattered attempts at engagement through boards, town halls, and community outreach initiatives, notable conflicts have persisted. These conflicts demonstrate the complexity and importance of considering disparate stakeholder perspectives, environmental impacts, and cultural sensitivities throughout the telescope siting process. At Mauna Kea, the conflict surrounding the Thirty Meter Telescope (TMT) project illustrates the struggle to develop scientific infrastructure amidst disregard for local culture. Native Hawaiians and environmental activists have voiced concerns about the project's impact on sacred lands, cultural heritage, and the ecological state of the summit. Opposition to the TMT project reflects broader issues of cultural preservation and historical injustices against Indigenous communities. In Chile, conflicts surrounding the construction of observatories like ALMA raise ethical questions regarding where knowledge of the land comes from, what constitutes effective environmental preservation, and issues of labor protections. The protests and labor strikes at ALMA demonstrate the broader tension between international scientific collaboration and local community interests, presenting issues that appear to sit beyond the scope of any oversight group focused on promoting local responsibility. These cases serve as examples for understanding which procedures might work well when 14 approaching the task of siting, and which might prove ineffective or outright harmful to communities. III. THE RESPONSIBLE SITING GROUP The Next Generation Event Horizon Telescope Collaboration (ngEHT) builds off of the success of the existing Event Horizon Telescope Collaboration (EHT). These projects seek to contribute to fundamental astronomical knowledge of our universe through the imaging of supermassive black holes at the center of the M87 spiral galaxy and the Milky Way galaxy. Observations of these objects provide empirical data to test physical theories with, including Einstein’s theory of relativity (Hees et al. 2017). By using the boundary of the black hole to resolve the conditions of spacetime, scientists could see progress in formulating a universal physical theory through the unification of general relativity and quantum physics—a critical challenge faced by theoretical physicists for decades (Debono et al. 2016). Additionally, the dynamics of the black hole serve as a vehicle for constructing new understandings of plasma physics in extreme environments (Zhang et al. 2020). The high scientific profile and general awe the topic incites in the public eye heightens the technical stakes of this project, and scientists are eager to construct improved instrumentation, collect more data, and further the study of these elusive physical objects. The 2017 and 2018 EHT campaigns that led to the release of the first images of black hole M87* in 2019 collected data from eight stations at six distinct geographic locations across the globe. The instruments used at each station were fully operational at 15 the time of the initial observation campaign. These telescopes included ALMA, APEX, the IRAM 30-meter Telescope, the IRAM NOEMA Observatory, the James Clerk Maxwell Telescope (JCMT), the Large Millimeter Telescope (LMT), the Submillimeter Array (SMA), the Submillimeter Telescope (SMT), the South Pole Telescope (SPT), the Kitt Peak Telescope, and the Greenland Telescope (GLT). (NRAO citation ‘new details’) The project has been awarded additional funding to design small supplemental dishes to fill out the Earth-sized array in EHT-II, and has expanded to eleven sites since the 2017 campaign (National Science Foundation, n.d.), (Johnson 2023). The Next Generation EHT seeks to enhance the EHT by adding new stations to the existing array to fill out the virtual Earth-sized telescope. Current plans envision two chief phases of development, with Phase I incorporating an initial three or more telescopes to the array, and an additional five or more scopes in Phase II (Johnson et al. 2023). The ngEHT has proposed plans for development at initial sites located in Jelm WY, Baja California, the Canary Islands, and Chile. The timeline of the ngEHT project is likely to span many decades, as the process of construction can take more than a decade, and the typical lifetime of a large observatory is around thirty years (Haslebacher et al. 2022). A distinctive aspect of the ngEHT project is its embedded History, Philosophy, and Culture working group (HPC), which brings together social science and humanities perspectives to contextualize the pursuit of scientific knowledge as it unfolds. The HPC represents a novel approach to collaboration in a large-scale scientific research project via its effort to incorporate interdisciplinary scholars, while underlining the necessity of a 16 broad inclusion of perspectives for generating understanding of new findings. They contend that historical and philosophical discourse has always played an integral role in situating discoveries in physics, stating that: “Black holes thus present an opportunity to continue the tradition of intertwining groundbreaking physics with historical, philosophical, and cultural analysis” (Alison et al. 2023). The Responsible Siting group is a focus group within the HPC, which is concerned with the general best practices and specific historical, cultural, environmental, and ethical studies in the consideration of new sites joining the ngEHT. The group functions through a structured set of collaborative procedures aimed at effective coordination and decision-making. At the operational level, a small action group comprising two to four individuals works on the ground, handling specific tasks related to site development and community engagement. These can vary from meeting with relevant organizations and community representatives to visiting site locations. The RSG convenes monthly in general group meetings, in which the action group provides updates on progress, shares insights, and facilitates discussions among members. These meetings ensure the alignment of group priorities and collectively assess the efficacy of ongoing initiatives. Attendance at general group meetings has ranged from less than ten to nearly thirty participants, offering expertise from a wide array of backgrounds. At the forefront of the RSG’s objective lies a commitment to meaningful community engagement and consultation. They aim to integrate local educational, scientific, and economic opportunities into the funding structure of the ngEHT. This involves providing support for community initiatives related to the project and working to 17 strengthen existing relationships at established sites and foster new connections at potential sites. Each site is treated as unique, with its specific needs and historical context guiding collaborative efforts. The RSG stresses the importance of incorporating local and traditional knowledge into its processes, recognizing the valuable insights they offer alongside scientific expertise. The group's plans include conducting extensive community impact studies to identify the desired benefits and contributions to local communities, spanning areas such as infrastructure enhancement, educational support, and tailored knowledge exchange programs. A “major goal” of the group is the production of papers outlining best practices for responsible telescope siting, using initial sites as models to establish norms (Johnson et al. 2023). According to the ngEHT, these broadly stated aims of the RSG represent concrete steps toward achieving their goals of siting responsibly. They outline a first goal of integrating the consideration of social and environmental impacts into siting decisions. To achieve this, they will include input from interdisciplinary experts and local community advocates. A second goal is to ensure the building process is collaborative, non-extractive, and sensitive to local people and lands. This will be addressed by establishing early dialogue and mutually beneficial agreements with local community groups (Johnson et al. 2023). However nicely stated, it appears that some of these steps are less concrete than the collaboration suggests: they represent procedural aims of the group, which may very well offer a guide for action, but of themselves cannot indicate successful outcomes. Mere completion of the outlined steps might facilitate positive outcomes, or they might 18 not. Of these stated aims, the only explicit and measurable outcome is the publication of papers detailing siting norms. Though surely a compelling read, an awarded publication will not reflect positive outcomes at sites. How can it be determined whether broader impacts have been adequately integrated into decisions? What assessment can be made as to whether or not the group has fostered a non-extractive presence? These are at root subjective qualifications and ones that ought to center the voices of local communities. This brings up a key requirement for prompting genuinely inclusive conversations with stakeholder groups: the acknowledgement that certain circumstances might prevent development at any given site. Community feedback must at once serve as a measure for evaluating integration procedures and the overall suitability of a site. The ngEHT recognizes this, stating: “The ngEHT must also accept the fact that community, environmental, and cultural aspects may prevent a site from being developed, and that a ‘no’ from locals is a legitimate outcome. A clear goal, then, is to work with community siting experts from both inside and outside astronomy to establish what a ‘no’ looks like, as well as a ‘yes’, and to develop norms and practices which can help survey local groups to ensure their voices are being heard.” (Johnson et al. 2023) There are a number of circumstances that could disqualify a site that fall outside the bounds of the RSG’s jurisdiction, for example the lack of necessary infrastructure in a region or political upheaval. In the absence of these sorts of concerns, a primary challenge of the group is navigating and constructing standards that evaluate their own work by answering the question of whether a site is suited for development. This 19 becomes complicated, however, when we consider the explicit outcome-oriented goals of the larger collaboration: financing and building additional telescopes. IV. ETHICAL OUTCOMES via METHOD and LIMITATIONS The Responsible Siting group proves unique from historical efforts in astronomy to mitigate siting conflict through its consolidation internal to the scientific collaboration. It is apparent that some previous siting efforts have facilitated better relational outcomes than others, and heavily depend on the historical context of each site. By formalizing efforts in the collaboration that underscore a dedication to responsibility in the process of telescope siting, the ngEHT offers a case for understanding how scientific structures might play a part in promoting or hindering ethical outcomes as entailed within the goals of the RSG. A major concern that surfaces in work that deals with soliciting participation from communities in a larger research project revolves around the question of whether or not inclusion efforts sufficiently address community needs, or rather exist primarily to fulfill demands from funders that a project act in a socially responsible manner (Reardon 2009 p.127). In some senses, the move to incorporate a dedicated responsibility group might be seen as a step toward accountability–with researchers claiming influence on the quality of the outcome. Or, we might consider how the inclusion of such a group, and a focus on procedural formality without explicit regard for outcome, might look closer to something of a spout of performative ethics. Taking a look at the group’s strategy and obstacles they have encountered thus far offers insight into where they fall on this continuum. 20 V.1 A diagnosis: the RSG as a solution to Collingridge’s dilemma The collaborative structure and the methodological aims of the RSG, as outlined in Section III, suggest that the group exists to solve a particular problem that arises in the deployment of technoscientific initiatives. This problem is famously articulated in 1980 by David Collingridge in The Social Control of Technology as “the dilemma of control”. The dilemma states: “The social consequences of a technology cannot be predicted early in the life of the technology. By the time undesirable consequences are discovered, however, the technology is often so much part of the whole economics and social fabric that its control is extremely difficult. This is the dilemma of control. When change is easy, the need for it cannot be foreseen; when the need for change is apparent, change has become expensive, difficult and time consuming’’. (Collingridge 1982, p.11) The concept problematizes the lack of available information to direct decisions related to technology design during the very phases when decisions are flexible. Unintended consequences of a development are often apparent only after implementation decisions are realized, and can not be so easily changed. In the case of telescope siting, this trend is well demonstrated in the early development of the Mauna Kea observatories, where social consequences related to Indigenous concerns were noted only after many facilities were built in isolation. We can thus understand the effort to incorporate a variety of academic and community perspectives via the History, Philosophy, and Culture aspect of the ngEHT collaboration prior to major design decisions as an attempt to address this very dilemma. 21 Shifting methodologies involving engagement in siting practices to facilitate opportunities where groups have the space to co-create decisions that impact their communities before issues arise is a prerequisite for the desired positive outcomes. The overall ngEHT collaboration recognizes the failure that previous siting initiatives have encountered by trying to responsibly engage communities only after decisions are set in stone. This recognition represents a strength in their approach, but the success of the group will depend on their ability to adhere to principles from the community engagement toolkit that prove well-suited for this research context. At this point, with the ngEHT still in its early phases, the work accomplished by the Responsible Siting Group remains somewhat constrained. Most of the group's efforts have been concentrated on the initial development site at Jelm Mountain in Wyoming, USA. Logistical outreach procedures have taken precedence, particularly concerning engagement with government agencies like the Bureau of Land Management (BLM) who manage Jelm’s public lands. The action group has conducted site visits to Jelm Mountain, opening dialogues with academic departments at the University of Wyoming and members of local Indigenous communities–the Northern Arapaho and Eastern Shoshone tribes. The proposed plan for the ngEHT development at Jelm was presented to the Wind River Reservation Inter-Tribal council, prompting invitation for continued outreach. Maintaining consistent remote communication with these Indigenous communities in the time since site visits has proved challenging, and limited the group’s ability to pursue future plans for involvement. 22 While the initial interest from local communities and academic connections is a promising start to building dialogue, there is an apparent failure by the group to separate partnership building from participant recruitment in their engagement. Keeping participant recruitment separate from partnership building allows for unbiased communication of the project's goals and potential impacts and benefits to the community, helping to build trust and mitigate any perceived conflicts of interest (Numans et al. 2019). The lack of separation suggests that early engagements, though well-intentioned, may inadvertently tilt towards transactionality rather than genuine, long-term collaboration. Building relations with and attempting to understand what life is really like for community members would ideally come before attempting to solicit input and learn about locally situated knowledge. The time constraints of the project, which has expected schedules for site development, put an unrealistic expectation on the relationship building process. Trying to rush relationship building will only contribute to a tone of transactionality in their efforts. The group's best option, then, is to form connections with trusted community partners who can serve as intermediaries to support their outreach initiatives. Historical scientific research projects have been criticized for their exploitative tendencies in interactions with Indigenous communities (Tsosie 2012). There is reason to believe that certain community engagement techniques, such as enclave deliberation, could prove useful in overcoming past injustices with historically marginalized communities (Blacksher et al. 2022). Enclave deliberation advances the traditional goals of deliberation by facilitating open discourse, understanding, and rapport among 23 participants and uniquely prepares individuals for unfamiliar or intimidating aspects of public deliberative processes, such as speaking in a second language or openly disagreeing, ultimately contributing to a wider range of ideas and solutions (Karpowitz & Raphael 2014). Given the salience of rhetoric that criticizes the non-neutral role of observatories in maintaining legacies of colonialism (Lehuedé 2022)(Swanner 2017), measures to prompt coherent feedback from communities about such sensitivities ought to be implemented where possible. Yet, based on the nascency of the RSG’s connections with local communities and the lack of established partnerships—the group does not have a strong foundation to facilitate such efforts. It is the case that some useful community engagement tools simply cannot be utilized by the group in the absence of strong community relationships. The ambiguous situation surrounding present and future funding in the case exacerbates these issues, limiting the RSG's capacity to develop deliberation forum initiatives and make pragmatic offers or promises to local communities. The current funding structure for the ngEHT is restricted to developmental use, meaning the funds are to be used for the sole purpose of building the telescope at Mt. Jelm in Wyoming. These funds can not be used to cover operating costs, training costs, nor outreach procedures. As it stands, it is largely unclear how the concept of “development funding” applies to supporting community engagement and consultation that constitutes the RSG’s work. Since there are no internal structures in physics that have funding for community engaged procedures as a normalized part of the research process, the RSG is tasked with figuring out what can and can’t be done with funds––if and when those funds 24 come in. It is possible that some of these issues might be resolved at future sites, when the group has secured additional streams of funding, but at this point the group has limited resources to back up conversations of promises that might be made to local communities. They are limited to discussions of potential promises, which understandably do not show very well to stakeholders. Thus, at least in their initial stages of work, the group is tasked with trying to have conversations about what it actually is that they are able to offer. This lack of clear funding pathways for community engagement activities stalls progress in developing programs and undermines the credibility and effectiveness of the RSG in its foundational stages. V.2 The utility of ensuring ‘no’ is on the table Large-scale technoscientific projects such as the ngEHT involve stakeholders with significantly disparate levels of power, influence, and resources (Espinosa 2022). The scientists spearheading these research initiatives have recognized authority and technical expertise, while their positionality offers a level of influence on how funds are directed so long as they are in line with the terms of grants. There are varying degrees to which different funding schemes influence research output and determination of methods (Thelwal et al. 2023). In any case, local communities and Indigenous groups are implicitly disadvantaged when offering supplemental input for decisions, lacking access and influence over resources or perceived to be lacking the specialized knowledge necessary for negotiating terms or expressing dissent (Lukasiewicz et al. 2017). Keeping ‘no’ on the table serves as a critical counterbalance to these inherent power disparities. It empowers communities by acknowledging their right to veto projects 25 that may impact their livelihoods, environment, or cultural tradition. This is not merely a symbolic gesture but a foundational shift in how decisions are made. It sends a clear message: the community’s concerns are valid and strong enough to halt progress, should they not be adequately addressed. The approach also encourages project proponents to engage more deeply with community concerns and to explore alternatives that minimize negative impacts or enhance community benefits. It moves the engagement process beyond tokenism, prompting meaningful dialogue where the stakes are real and outcomes are not predetermined. The legitimacy of collaborative processes in project development is heavily dependent on how authentically decisions are influenced by relevant stakeholders. When ‘no’ is a viable outcome, the collaboration becomes inherently more equitable. Stakeholders are likely to feel that their involvement has weight, which can lead to increased trust and a stronger, more constructive relationship between the community and the project developers. Setting such a tone for collaboration is crucial for relationshipbuilding and the long-term reputation of the organizations involved. Projects that are seen as having overridden community concerns without genuine engagement can lead to widespread public backlash and resistance, the TMT case in point. In such historical cases of telescope siting, it is unclear that the answer ‘no’ has really ever been on the table as scientists pursued site development. The course of trends at Mauna Kea demonstrates this well—persistence of significant conflict concerning the TMT still has not warrant a settled consideration of alternate locations. Though the project considered relocation to the Canary Islands, continued assertion of the preference 26 for Mauna Kea by astronomers and evolving community perspectives on the issue leave the project at a standstill (Witze 2020). The mere discussion to move the TMT proves that the option of an alternative site is possible, but taking steps to realize such a shift is another story. Even after progress has been stalled on the summit for over a decade many involved still push for its approval–suggesting that the ‘no’ at Mauna Kea has yet to be totally recognized as such. A number of reasons complicate the notion of moving to alternative sites. For one, there are an incredibly limited number of sites suitable for the construction of ground-based observatories in the first place. Considering the ngEHT’s objective to fill out the existing EHT array, the locations that would satisfactorily complete this task are geographically specific. Further, any approved grant funding from the NSF will be particular to place; many methods of funding approved for one site cannot be so directly re-instituted at another. Potential development options also depend on viable political and institutional support at given locations. Dealing with these limitations and still maintaining a dedication to respecting a circumstantial ‘no’ from stakeholders further increases the stakes of conducting effective outreach and engagement for the group. These factors complicate the level at which the astronomer might set the ‘yes’ versus ‘no’ threshold as compared to a concerned community member. The lack of clear paths forward surrounding how to pivot plans in response to the ‘no’ manifest as a weakness for the RSG’s success, given its role in legitimizing their engagement strategy. 27 V. FIXED SCIENTIFIC GOALS The ngEHT's scientific mission has the potential to subsume the goals of the RSG, especially when the project's success is perceived as dependent on the unimpeded development of sites. The explicit goals of building additional telescopes to ultimately collect data and produce images creates an inherent tension with the principles guiding the Responsible Siting Group. The tension arises from a fundamental difference in priorities: while the ngEHT is primarily focused on achieving concrete scientific outcomes, the RSG is tasked with ensuring that community engagement is genuine, which includes maintaining the option to halt site development in the face of a ‘no’. This setup risks positioning the RSG's engagement efforts as mere formalities, rather than as genuine opportunities for communities to influence project outcomes. Building a telescope requires a location to be sited successfully––and when we consider the broader goals of the project to build not just one, but eight or more dedicated telescopes––a worry arises regarding the ability of the group to maintain the legitimacy of ‘no’ across the board at potential sites. By the standard of the project’s epistemic goals, which depend on the eventual collection of data, total rejection of potential sites would be outright disastrous. Though such a case would be an unlikely result considering the many intermittent realities of compromise possible, it is worth considering this extreme in order to examine the larger commitments of the collaboration. If communities sense that their ability to say ‘no’ is not taken seriously, the engagement process risks being viewed as insincere, undermining the legitimacy of the RSG's efforts and potentially the project as a whole. This challenge relays the need for an 28 approach that does not merely aim to secure community approval but requires it. If real community engagement critically depends on affirming project modifications or even cancellations, the collaboration must become serious about their capacity to respect such a result. Their commitment to alternative plans of action serves as an indicator of the project's larger hierarchy of values––which will inform whether epistemic values related to knowledge acquisition will invariably take precedence over social and ethical values. When the option to say ‘no’ is not realistically on the table, the engagement process shifts toward being a public relations effort rather than a responsible integration of values into scientific planning. This misalignment not only jeopardizes the ethical standing of the project but also risks long-term social opposition that could hinder future scientific objectives. The ambiguity in early-stage funding for the RSG is indicative of broader project priorities, even though the Collingridge dilemma makes clear the temporal urgency of the RSG’s work. If funding is allocated for infrastructure development, but not to establish a clear ‘yes’ from the community, therein lies an assumption that site development can be pursued before site engagement. This is problematic considering our discussion of the meaning of the ‘no’ and the importance of chronological precedence for the group’s efficacy. The limited initial funding for the RSG suggests that ethical goals may be undervalued compared to epistemic objectives and the development of the infrastructure necessary to achieve them. Further, the disparity of value as reflected by funds allocated for development at Jelm disqualifies the site from serving as an example from which to establish norms for engaging with other sites. The group expects funding questions to be 29 resolved at future sites, and time alone will tell the extent to which the clarification of resources resolves obstacles related to engagement, or if a more fundamental problem of structural constraints can better explain challenges in accomplishing their aims. VI. CONCLUSION In this paper, I have surveyed historical instances of conflict at telescope sites, introduced the Responsible Siting Group within the Next Generation Event Horizon Telescope Collaboration, and shown how characteristics of the RSG’s scientific situation might limit their ability to realize their intended outcomes. From my discussion emerges the characterization of a tension between the concrete objectives of the ngEHT research project and the stated aims of the Responsible Siting Group. This tension suggests that a more comprehensive approach to integrating responsible practices related to community engagement might be necessary in order for the collaboration to be better positioned to address their goals. These goals center on incorporating knowledge of potential concerns earlier on in the siting process. If the groups aims are not more fundamentally integrated into the structures of the ngEHT, with particular regard to the funding structure of the project, the RSG will not have the resources nor the power to make the commitments that preclude best community engagement practices. Given the structural challenges they face, the group runs the risk of falling victim to the very Collingridge dilemma they hope to help solve. In an effort to mitigate these challenges, future funding policies should explicitly outline how development funds for infrastructure can support the establishment of community relationships. 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