Bero, an astronomy researcher for the University of Chicago, spent a winter in Antarctica with a group of 27 other scientists and support personnel for the six-month-long night. Some moments were better than living a beer commercial, he wrote. Other times he said he was depressed, plagued by "disturbingly gruesome nightmares" or insomnia, or sapped by the absence of sunlight.

According to researchers who study such environments, Bero’s reactions to the lengthy interlude in the isolated and confined station were typical. The implications of their work stretch far beyond the polar circles, however–as far, in fact, as humans dare to go. Psychologists use the close quarters in Antarctica as a model for life in space, an even more extreme environment than the coldest, windiest, highest, and driest continent on earth. They hope to glean secrets of how people cope there under such trying conditions and apply the lessons to future long-duration space missions.

That future is not far off. In October 2000, the first crew is scheduled to alight on the International Space Station. An architectural firm boasts it will open a space resort in 2017. Even campaigns to colonize Mars and the moon are gaining steam.

With all this interest in space, but relatively little experience with long-duration missions, researchers have studied several Earth environments that resemble their vision of what life in space will be like. To greater or lesser extents, these environments share the qualities of both isolation from the outside world and confinement in a relatively small space. Some of these so-called space-analog environments include polar stations,submarines, underwater habitats, remote national parks, and oil rigs.

Jack Stuster, an anthropologist at Anacapa Sciences, a behavioral science research firm, categorized these environments by their similarity to 90-day space missions. Using such factors as group size, tour length, and hostility of the outside environment as gauges, Stuster ranked the South Pole Station sixth in a list of 13 analogs.

But for longer missions, such as a year-long stay at the moon or a three-year trip to Mars, Stuster believes Antarctic bases, such as the South Pole Station, win out. The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) and the National Science Foundation (NSF) seem to agree. They have planned to build outposts in Antarctica to test the equipment they hope to take to Mars and the moon.

Until this is done, researchers can study life in existing Antarctic bases. A fair bit of behavioral research has already been done there, triggered by the unexpected and dangerous onset of schizophrenia in a construction-crew member in 1957. Other crew members built a special room for this man and lined it with mattresses, and the man spent most of the winter under sedation.

Because such incidents grow more deadly for the entire crew the farther it is from Earth and intervention, behavioral researchers need to understand the various human reactions to isolation and confinement to prevent these dangerous situations.

"That is precisely why Antarctic research is important now," says Lawrence Palinkas, a medical anthropologist at the University of California, San Diego. Encouragingly, he has actually found that the challenges of wintering in Antarctica seem to produce health benefits.  

ANTARCTICA

While in Antarctica, though, it’s often hard to see any benefits. Seven months into his stay, Bero wrote a spoof on a travel guide to the South Pole, highlighting some of his frustrations:

The people who go to Antarctica, aside from tourists who visit the coast, are scientists and support personnel from 29 countries. Four thousand stay in the summer, but only a quarter as many stay over the long winter, as "winter-overs." They live on bases as large as the U.S.-run McMurdo, which houses more than 1,800 people; at stations like South Pole, with about 30 people; or in field stations with only a few other crew members.

Winter-overs have to cope with separation from family and friends; the feeling of being "stuck" with people not of their own choosing; a lack of privacy and sensory stimulation; and the demands of a hostile environment: a harsh climate, high altitude, and extreme light-dark cycle.

These difficulties often cause depression, irritability, hostility, insomnia, and an inability to concentrate, cumulatively known as"Winter-Over Syndrome."

The symptoms ebb and flow over time. Psychologist J.H. Rohrer studied isolation in the 1960s and described three progressive stages of how people handle it. The first is high anxiety. This is followed by a spell of listlessness, when the crew becomes mired in routine. The final stage is characterized by anticipation of the return home, spiked with aggressiveness, emotional outbursts, and rowdy behavior. Interestingly, the stages appear regardless of the actual length of time in isolation–when people know how long they will be cut off from others, they spend equivalent amounts of time in the stages, whether the isolation period is 24 hours or one year.

Many researchers studying reactions to a winter in Antarctica have found similar swings in behavior and symptoms, with high levels of anxiety during the weeks before stations close, when everyone races to finish projects before summer personnel depart. Right after the last plane leaves for the season, the atmosphere at many stations is merry and a bit rebellious, with winter-overs bonding by doing things they would not have been allowed to do before.

By midwinter, the thrill of being left alone has waned and the monotony of work and life with the same people takes its toll: Boredom, fatigue, irritability, and sleep problems set in. Researchers have dubbed this the "third quarter phenomenon" because the symptoms often peak three-quarters through the isolation period. "It’s kind of like not leaving your house for a year," says Bero. "After awhile, so much of your environment is the same, it feels like parts of your brain shut down."

Finally, as the winter draws to a close, the pace speeds up in preparation for the next crew. When it arrives, the established winter-over group often reports a sense of invasion and resentment toward the newcomers.

Some of the winter-over symptoms seem to have a root in the special characteristics of polar regions. The 24 hours of winter darkness seem to confuse the body’s internal clock, or circadian rhythms, wreaking havoc with sleep. In a 1989 study by UC San Diego’s Palinkas, more than half of the winter-over crew complained of problems sleeping. Brain wave tracings have shown that stage IV sleep, one of two periods of restorative "deep sleep," in which brain activity slows down, totally disappears in winter-overs. Stage III, the other state of deep sleep, and rapid eye movement (REM) sleep, during which the brain is very active and people dream, are also disturbed. Bero, who often had insomnia and nightmares, was sent to the station greenhouse to sit under full-spectrum lighting. After returning home, it takes some people as long as two years to fully recover their sleep.  

But some symptoms seem to stem from social, rather than physical, problems. "Long eye", or as one psychologist put it, a "12-foot stare in a 10-foot room," occurs in people who tend not to fit in. In an isolated and confined environment, identifying with the group plays an important role in the smooth social sailing of those trapped together. Other crew members usually give the starers a wide berth, and they, in turn, seem to be able to "snap out" of their faraway states at will, stopping the episodes when they feel more included in the group.In one seminal study on human behavior during an international Antarctic expedition in the austral summer of 1980-1981, nationality played a divisive role. Twelve scientists spent 72 days trekking over the continent, using each other as subjects for psychological and physiological studies on cold and isolation. While the quantitative data showed a "generally positive picture," according to one scientific paper, the "social climate was generally disagreeable." Some of the scientists threatened to sabotage others’ research, and three refused to participate in certain experiments. Some unpopular members of the team were shunned, and there were rifts along national lines.

Another disturbing winter-over phenomenon is that of plotting the death of another crew member–down to the last graphic detail. Researchers attribute the deadly daydreams to coping mechanisms, which defuse rising hostilities and help maintain a sense of control over a situation in which escape is not an option. Bero, who could not stand a fellow crew member who constantly put people down, relished his own detailed fantasy of spraying his tormentor with a supersoaker water gun filled with an acetate mixture that burns through clothing. Snowdrifts would cover the body, he envisioned, leaving no trace of the victim or the crime.

Some less morbid, but nonetheless bizarre, group activities also include speaking in a lisp, cursing liberally, and running to the ceremonial pole in the nude. Shortly after the base closed for the winter, Bero and his fellow winter-overs threw a beach party, complete with swimsuits and surf music. They also gave each other mohawks. These bonding activities serve two important purposes: They develop a spirit of community and solidarity, and they break the monotony of life on the base.

This identification with the group usually leads to resentment toward outsiders, whom many view as unable or unwilling to understand crew members’ needs. Bero said winter-overs grew closer over their shared contempt for one NSF official, and he suggested that the NSF, as a matter of policy, provide future crews with a scapegoat. Similar suggestions have been made for space: a bad movie could be included so that astronauts would have something to complain about.

Though homesickness and the separation from loved ones make living in Antarctica difficult, many winter-overs withdraw from the outside world. Psychiatrist Sidney Blair from the Uniformed Services University of the Health Sciences in Bethesda, Maryland, believes the sense of being unable to affect outside events makes many winter-overs reluctant to hear bad news from the outside. He points out that technologies like email and the telephone are a "mixed blessing," since communication between station crews and colleagues outside raises the issue of who is in charge. Nonetheless, communication with loved ones is important, says Bero, who occasionally spoke with his fiancée over a whistling, static-filled ham radio connection which was broadcast by shortwave to whomever could pick it up. The lack of privacy and the time lag made the conversations somewhat stilted, he recalls, though he still valued them.

While much of the early behavioral research in Antarctica focused on problems, recent research has discovered a silver lining to the winter-over experience. Some reactions, says Palinkas, actually help people cope with the isolation. Long eye, for example, distances people from unpleasant situations. Bero, who explained that almost everyone had it at some point, agrees.

Fortunately, the winter-over syndrome disappears after leaving Antarctica, although many people have trouble adjusting to "normal life" in the first six months home. Donna Oliver, a psychology researcher at the United States International University in San Diego, discovered that over the isolation period, the winter-overs in her study became less dependent and paranoid. At the same time, they got better at sharing their feelings and acting without a framework of rules. Almost all of the winter-overs described the experience as one of the best in their lives, and about half said they would want to do it again.

Physically, the intensity of the experience appears to be a boon. Palinkas found that upon their return, Navy winter-overs were admitted to hospitals 20 percent fewer times than a control group of Navy personnel. "The challenge may produce health benefits," he says. "They learn how to cope with adversity. It’s like, ‘If I can handle this, I can handle anything.’"

Much of the research has focused on how to select winter-overs who will best manage the challenges of the isolation, confinement, and environmental extremes. Antarctic pioneers of the past had to be young, fit men, who could follow orders and loved adventure.

Nowadays, while people often cite "adventure" as their main reason for wintering-over, psychologists frown on applicants who demand a lot from their environments to be satisfied. Instead, successful winter-overs are those who create a rich "perceptual environment," said Palinkas, much like that described by 1930s American expeditioner Admiral Richard Byrd in his book Alone:

Men are driven deeper and deeper inside themselves for materials of replenishment. . . . For there is no escape anywhere. You are hemmed in on every side by your own inadequacies and the crowding measures of your associates. The ones who survive with a measure of happiness are those who can live profoundly off of their intellectual resources, as hibernating animals live off their fat.

Today, prospective winter-overs at American bases must pass physical exams and an evaluation by a psychologist, as well as a psychological questionnaire. Evaluators look for three main qualities, according to A.J.W. Taylor, who has written a book on Antarctic psychology: ability, stability, and compatibility. Ability refers to a person’s job skills and motivation, stability to his or her level of self-awareness and emotional control, and compatibility to his or her social skills.