Sunday, July 20, 2014

Is A "Frontier Nation" Afraid Of The Final Frontier?

Today is the 45th anniversary of what ought to be regarded as this nation's greatest and proudest achievement--the landing of men on the Moon.  An accomplishment that for centuries had been the object of of dreams and fantasy had become real.  As a species, we were no longer irrevocably bound to the Earth.  We had, along with Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin, taken the first steps toward conquering space and making it truly our home.

Sadly, you won't find much recognition of the anniversary, or its cosmic significance, in today's media.  And that shouldn't be surprising, either.  As a species, we have all taken many giant steps back from the days of the Apollo missions.  This is certainly not because we've lost our technical edge:  the digital communications revolution that connects all of us testifies to the contrary.  Nor is it because we've lost interest in space, as the International Space Station, the Hubble telescope and the Martian rovers all demonstrate.

What we've lost is the desire, or perhaps the need, to be there.  And I think there are two causes for this.

The first is the end of the Cold War, which had originally provided the national drive to reach the moon before the Russians did.  They had effectively beaten us in the satellite race with Sputnik, and no one wanted to consider the possibility that they might reach the Moon first--and use that accomplishment as a propaganda tool to expand their sphere of control beyond the Warsaw Pact nations.  John F. Kennedy grasped, before anyone else did, the idea that the "space race" could be a way of linking America's frontier past with the need to "get America moving."   Thus, he established the national goal of reaching the Moon within a decade--and thus, the words "New Frontier" came to define his all-too-brief Administration.

The second is the Challenger tragedy, and the loss of six brave and accomplished lives--including the life of Christa McAuliffe, a schoolteacher who was to become the nation's first civilian astronaut, and instead became its first civilian tragedy.  It was a reminder that frontiers, however romantically we define them, are dangerous places, guaranteeing neither comfort nor safety.  In a sense, the reaction to the Challenger tragedy illustrates the difference between Kennedy's America and Reagan's America--and our sad transition from a nation that embraced adventure to a nation desperate to be cocooned at all costs.  Space and the effort to reach it, as it turns out, could be terrifying.  Who wants any part of it?  Better to stay on Earth and follow the ups and downs of the stock market rather than the movements of the heavens.

But it isn't better.  And it isn't the way we're wired.  Humans need to explore, to ask questions, and to find the answers even at great cost.  This is how we've grown and matured as a species.  Many of the technical innovations we take for granted, like personal computers, may not have been created without the space program as a spur to research and development.  And simple economics has always demanded a search for new resources:  the Moon, Mars and the asteroids are resources waiting to be discovered and exploited (hopefully, with more sanity than our treatment of the Earth).

Equally important is the need to recognize that we do not live in a world of perfect safety.  We can't prevent all of life's tragedies by running away from all possible sources of danger.  We can, however, live our lives in such a way that expands our knowledge and understanding of life and the universe.  Even if that means confronting danger, it may be a danger that needs to be confronted in any case--and, by confronting it, the world may become safer in the process.

That is why I'm with this authorPer somnia et ardua ad astra.  We need to get out of our cocoons.  We need to understand once again that adventure, and even danger, are a necessary part of living, as opposed to just existing.  And we need to take aim with all that we have, once again, at what Gene Roddenberry memorably described as "the final frontier."  Actually, as one of Roddenberry's writers for "Star Trek," David Gerrold once put it:  "The final frontier is not space.  The final frontier is the human soul.  Space is merely the place where we will meet the challenge.

I hope that, in my lifetime, we will find a way to meet it again.  Not half-way.  Not for a decade.  But, to borrow a phrase, to infinity and beyond.

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