Ships and Spacecraft: The Same Discipline Under Different Skies

Ships and Spacecraft: The Same Discipline Under Different Skies

When people think of high-stakes structural engineering, they often picture rockets and space capsules. Very few picture a 400-metre container ship taking green seas over the bow in the North Atlantic, or a cruise ship fault-tolerant enough to keep thousands of people safe after a major systems casualty. Yet the mindset and rigour that naval architects apply to ships mirror, in many meaningful ways, the diligence that goes into spacecraft design.

Dr Luis Guarín, Principal Naval Architect in Brookes Bell’s Houston office, has spent much of his career at the sharp end of risk, performance and survivability. His perspective is simple. “Most of my work has been about safety rather than pure performance,” he explains. “It’s vital to identify the design drivers, the sources of risk and the sequence of events that might cause an incident. A  wide-angle perspective lets you bring together different disciplines into a single, coherent explanation of why something occurred.”

That systems view is a clear point of contact with space engineering. Spacecraft teams consider complex situations, redundancy and safe modes. Naval architects do the same, only with different environments and constraints. For ships, the environment is the ocean, a problematic and sometimes violent load generator. Luis’s doctoral work modelled green-seas loads on bulk carriers in extreme weather, a probabilistic approach that treats nature as an unpredictable adversary. “We developed first-principles models and simulations to evaluate concepts outside the limits of prescriptive rules,” he says. The aim is familiar to anyone who might design for space: understand the physics first, then verify the design against the full range of credible scenarios.

The comparison extends to redundancy and mission continuation. Spacecraft are designed to survive failures long enough to complete or safely terminate a mission. Modern passenger ships are required to do something very similar. “A cruise ship must be able to lose as much as half its power generation yet still maintain essential systems while it makes its way to port,” Luis notes. That standard, often described in maritime regulation as safe return to port, is the ocean-going equivalent of a safe-mode capability.

The culture of verification is also prevalent across both industries. They rely on a blend of numerical analysis, scale testing and operational feedback. Luis has managed ship safety verification, including damaged ship survivability and fire risk assessment, and undertaken evacuation analyses for dozens of large passenger vessels. The outputs are not academic exercises but they help to design choices, operational practises and contingency plans.

Consider evacuation. In space, crew escape and abort plans are rehearsed in simulation long before flight. At sea, passenger evacuation is also modelled, timed and stress-tested against a matrix of failures. Crowd dynamics, route availability and the potential for degraded conditions all feature in both scenarios. Despite the different situations, the goal is the same, namely to ensure that people have a reliable path to safety when the improbable becomes real.

Even the way the profession learns from catastrophe shows a shared DNA. Luis’s early career was shaped by the hard lessons that followed major passenger vessel accidents. “When I started at Strathclyde it was a few years some very notable ferry disasters,” he says. “Those incidents prompted intensive European research into damage stability for ferries, and later the cruise industry required similar safety standards for very large vessels.” Spaceflight also advances through searching analysis of failure. In both arenas, the result is stricter requirements, better models and designs that are robust where they need to be, rather than only where rules happen to look.

Perhaps the most important parallel is cultural. High-consequence engineering demands humility in the face of complexity. “No one has all the answers,” Luis says. “The real benefit comes from combining the expertise of specialists and multiple lines of evidence, from design work to operational data, into one unified safety assessment. That is how you develop a vessel that can operate in the harshest environments on Earth whilst being able to prioritise the protection of the lives onboard.” Naval architecture at this level is not just drawing lines and checking numbers. It is systems engineering, risk analysis and human factors brought together with a forensic eye.

If the public seldom sees that work, the stakes are no lower. Ships carry communities, energy, food and medicine. Their structures endure decades of fatigue, corrosion, damage and repair while operating in an environment that, whilst it can be somewhat predicted, never repeats itself. While the diligence in maritime looks a lot like the diligence that puts machines into orbit, both exist to keep people safe while pushing the boundaries of what is possible, and both succeed when physics, prudence and disciplined analysis meet.

Author
Adam Whittle
Date
29/09/2025
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