Who Cares About Artemis?

Selene to the Greeks, Luna to the Romans. Long have we gazed up at our celestial neighbor, our global glow-in-the-dark beacon, with moonstruck wonder. The “little light” (as the Hebrews called it) marked days and seasons, planting and harvest, floating in an empty void as it watched decades come and go. As the centuries progressed, the Moon got a little closer. A maelstrom of political drama and ambition swirled through the sixties, the perfect conditions to birth a space race. It culminated in the capstone of the 20th century – one small step, one giant leap. For the first time in history, Earth was not the only home of humans. We went back five more times…and then never again.

Until now.

Like a space-bound phoenix, Artemis (twin sister of the mythological Apollo) will rise on a pillar of flames, birthed from the ashes of a past generation’s moon-dreams. At the top of the stack sits Orion, a four-person apartment for three weeks of voyaging around the lunar neighborhood. Below that, the SLS rocket. Add a cup of Space Shuttle engines, a tablespoon each of hydrogen and oxygen, sprinkle some Delta IV tech above, bolt on two worm-logo-emblazoned boosters, and burn at 6,000 degrees Fahrenheit for 8 minutes and 20 seconds or until well done. When it launches for the first time on Monday, it will be crowned the most powerful rocket of the modern era (Apollo’s Saturn V still reigns supreme as the world’s all-time lifting champion). And what more appropriate backdrop than Launch Complex 39, the vaunted home of moonshots, Hubble Space Telescopes, and Shuttle launches?

This uncrewed (no humans, just computers and rocket fuel) mission will, if all goes well, spend six weeks testing the engineering mettle of spacecraft and flight controller alike. Its nearest analog is Apollo 4, the debut of the Saturn V rocket, which, in 1967, flew eight hours and never left Earth orbit. It set the stage for all the lunar landings to follow. But for the rest of us earth-bound humans who’ll never kick moon dirt, why bother about NASA’s newest shiny rocket?

We Choose To Go…

John F. Kennedy, in rallying a nation to reach for the stars, set the lunar target as a challenge for all Americans: “We choose to go to the Moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard; because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone.” (Address at Rice University on the Nation’s Space Effort) There’s a story told that when you asked anyone what their purpose was in the Apollo program, everyone, from janitor to flight director, had the same answer: “I’m helping put a man on the moon.” (Craig Nelson, Rocket Men)

Artemis, like Apollo, is neither cheap nor easy. The Moon is an inconvenient 240,000 miles away through a sea of nothingness, with no hospitality to offer living souls who reach its barren shores. Yet it’s the only heavenly body we can reach in days, not months or years. Like a flag, the Moon unifies our focus and shows (not others, but ourselves) what we are capable of.

…To the Moon, For the Earth…

1968 was a tumultuous year in American history. Between the conflict in Vietnam and Martin Luther King, Jr.’s assassination, the country was reeling. That December, Apollo 8 put the first humans in lunar orbit. From their isolated three-man cabin, the crew delivered a brief Christmas message that inspired a nation in turmoil. A message to the astronauts summed up the feelings of many: “Thank you Apollo 8. You saved 1968.” (13 Minutes to the Moon, “Saving 1968”)

On July 15, 1969, a day before Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins left the planet, a group of protestors arrived at Kennedy Space Center. Led by mule-drawn wagons and Reverend Ralph Abernathy (MLK’s successor as head of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference), they came with an indicting charge: 20% of America lived in poverty while the country was on the verge of its greatest achievement in space. NASA’s administrator, Thomas Paine, profoundly replied, “If we could solve the problems of poverty in the United States by not pushing the button to launch men to the Moon tomorrow, then we would not push that button.” As difficult as rocket science was, Paine continued, it was “child’s play compared to the tremendously difficult human problems with which you and your people are concerned.” He encouraged them to “hitch [their] wagons” to NASA’s programs, propelling America to face its earthbound problems with equal fervor. (Muir-Harmony, Apollo to the Moon).

Spaceflight has never existed for the sake of spaceflight alone. Behind the fire of a thousand rocket engines burn far deeper motivations: political superiority, environmental monitoring, technology development, navigational support, and more have been the fuel of rocketry. Like a prophetic mirror, it shows us who we are…and, if we so choose, what we can become. The Apollo program, if adjusted for inflation and paid for in 2020 alone, would have cost less than 2% of America’s GDP and less than 4% of our government expenditures – a drop in the fiscal bucket. Artemis, like Apollo, begs the question: what else is possible?

…And Tomorrow’s History.

Apollo, for many alive in the present, is a relic of a bygone era. But for those who witnessed it, who built it, who fought for it, Apollo was real life. Today, we celebrate the Chris Krafts and Margaret Hamiltons and John Youngs and Katherine Johnsons as history-book legends. Back then, they were ordinary government employees. We revel in the ingenuity of engineers like John Aaron who saved Apollo 13. In their day, they were just plain old engineers.

Artemis, like Apollo, reminds us that we are writing the history of the future in the present. As C.S. Lewis said, “There are no ordinary people. You have never talked to a mere mortal.” (The Weight of Glory) Will we know the names of every person who torqued the bolts, ran the calculations, or made the decisions on Artemis I? No. In fact, the popular imagination will only record a handful of names, even those to eventually be forgotten as the years pass. But human history is, by definition, human. It is our story, as a collective. You, as a single person, may have zero impact on this mission. But you have an impact somewhere, a prospect simultaneously terrifying and thrilling. As we live it in real time, Artemis I is our opportunity to remember.

Light the Candle

49 years, 8 months, 14 days. That’s how long it’s been since a human walked on the Moon. Gene Cernan, the final visitor to that beautiful gray wasteland, offered this reflection before he departed: “As I take man’s last step from the surface, back home for some time to come – but we believe not too long into the future – I’d like to just [say] what I believe history will record. That America’s challenge of today has forged man’s destiny of tomorrow. And, as we leave the Moon at Taurus–Littrow, we leave as we came and, God willing, as we shall return, with peace and hope for all mankind.”

Cernan was wrong: it’ll be over five decades from his speech before another human touches the Moon, far longer than anyone imagined it would take. But he was right: we are going back. Take a minute to revel in that. The Earth will always be our home. Through the ages, all we’ve ever known of our only natural satellite is what we could see of it in the darkness. It was our calendar, our tide-shifter, our night light. But for a vanishingly small moment in our story, the Moon will host us too.

And you get to see it happen.

Postscript

On November 16, 2022, after enduring months of delays, Artemis I lifted off. The Orion capsule sent back stunning images of the Moon; views that, someday soon, humans will witness for themselves. Orion splashed down on Earth on December 11, just in time for Christmas. I previously wrote that the names of the people who “torqued the bolts” would be lost to history. But for a moment, let’s remember them. The night of the launch, a hydrogen valve started leaking and NASA decided to send a “red team” to the pad. They tightened the nuts and bolts, sealed the leak, and got Artemis back on track. Billy, Trent, and Chad saved the mission that night. Rockets are cool, but at the end of the day, people are way cooler.