Two Self-Portraits (of planet Earth)

Earthrise, photographed by Apollo 8 astronaut Bill Anders on December 24th, 1968.

Just before the holidays, I had the opportunity to do a little driveway stargazing with a guest from Syria. His hometown is just outside the city of Homs, actually, and if you read or listen to just a little news you know his people are going through a very, very hard time. Getting shot in the streets kind of hard. In spite of, or perhaps because of, the suffering in his homeland, he is excited about any new experience, and he had never looked through a telescope before. We did a quick tour (it was very cold!), stopping at Jupiter, the Andromeda galaxy, and ending with the moon. It was the last thing that dropped his jaw. It turns out Muslims also use God’s name when amazed by something, but it’s an incantation of appreciation and wonder.

We had him back over for dinner on Christmas Eve. He had never experienced an American Christmas before. Actually, to a large extent, he still hasn’t…most of my household’s traditions come from Slovakia. When we gathered near the tree after the long “Dinner of Many Courses” (sliced apple, oblatky with nuts, garlic and honey, sauerkraut soup, fried chicken and potato salad and the cavalcade of cookies), our guest was surprised to find a gift waiting for him. It was a print I had made of the famous “Earthrise” image taken by Apollo 8 astronauts as they orbited the moon on Christmas Eve, 1968. I think he was touched.

That photograph is very significant. Though not the first photograph of the planet from space (I wrote about that image in this post) it was the most viewed and appreciated. Galen Rowell, the eminent nature photographer, called  Earthrise ”the most influential environmental photograph ever taken.” The first Earth Day was celebrated the following year, and now everyone had an image to keep in mind. Bill Anders, the Apollo 8 astronaut who took the photograph, later reflected: ”I instantly thought it was ironic; we had come all this way to study the moon, and yet it was this view of the Earth that was one of the most important events for Apollo 8.”

Anders continued: “There are basically two messages that came to me. One of them is that the planet is quite fragile. It reminded me of a Christmas tree ornament. But the other message to me, and I don’t think this one has really sunk in yet, is that the Earth is really small. We’re not the center of the universe; we’re way out in left field on a tiny dust mote, but it is our home and we need to take care of it.”

Flash forward four decades to another photograph, this one from August, 2011, snapped by the Juno spacecraft, 6 million miles into its journey to the planet Jupiter. Juno is an robotic spacecraft, so we can’t ask the photographer directed for comments. It gives perspective to our perspective. The earth is not just small. It’s really small. And please, people, for now, it’s all we’ve got.

Juno's photograph of earth and the moon. If the earth was a peppercorn, the moon would be a pinhead about an index finger's length away. Mars, our aspirational next destination for manned exploration, would be about 14 yards away.

Musings on Space Exploration

I was thinking today about space exploration, and the doldrums we are, and have been, in, ever since the last Apollo astronauts lifted off from the moon last century. Actually, I wasn’t thinking, I was arguing. In my head. With the countless people who dismiss the space program as a pointless waste of money or a nerd luxury humanity can ill afford. This makes me crazy. I don’t often know where to begin. Offer positive arguments about the space program and its economic and technological gifts? Wax poetic about the importance of space exploration to the evolution of the human spirit? Or viciously expose the argument for the crock of I can very well believe it’s not butter it is?

Given that this argument is with imaginary people (until the real people who espouse such beliefs start posting their comments and thus reveal themselves to be corporeal enemies of which I keep a list), I will choose the last option.

Yes, space exploration has lots of benefits to the economy and to technological development. And yes, it’s important, if not existentially critical, to the development of humanity as a species. (Not just development, but survival…eventually, down the line, our sun will turn into a red giant and swallow earth whole–we should plan on being elsewhere.)

But what about the argument that we just can’t afford it? I mean, such people say, there are so many problems we need to fix here on earth.

I used to say to such people that I’d trade them one aircraft carrier for a space program. An aircraft carrier is an awesome thing, and it represents the effort of a city of people all united in common purpose. Well, as one of the early defenders of space exploration testified to congress (I’m paraphrasing here): An aircraft carrier defends the country, the space program makes it worth defending.

And anyway, one less carrier group won’t really hurt. The Chinese have a new missile that might just make all of them obsolete.

Last week I was listening to the audio version of Craig Neslon’s excellentRocket Men: The Epic Story of the First Men on the Moon, and something I heard really floored me. Nelson was describing the Vehicle Assembly Building, or VAB, at the Kennedy Space Center in Florida. At something like 50 stories tall, it was designed to house the enormous Saturn V rockets that would carry the Apollo astronauts to the moon. It’s so cavernous that it will rain (inside!) if the air conditioning fails. What really floored me, however, was the description of its doors. They’re the largest doors in the world, and they are over 400 feet tall.

Next time you’re in a big city, got to a tall building and take the elevator to the 40th floor. Find a window and look down, and then imagine the whole face of the building below swinging out (slowly, the VAB doors take 45 minutes to open). That’s a big freaking door.

Whoever designed and built that door likely doesn’t have a monument built in their honor. Yet it’s an engineering feat that has not yet been rivaled (I guess since nobody has needed an even bigger door since Apollo). But here I am trying to defend the space program by instilling a sense of wonder in the reader. What about that nagging argument…We can’t afford big doors!

Here’s my counter-argument. We can’t afford to keep throwing away perfectly good plastic utensils as if they won’t outlast the Sphinx. We can’t afford vast industries, like cosmetics, video games or golf. Good god, why aren’t people arguing that we can’t afford professional sports as a whole? (I’m not anti-sport even if I was a nerd and the last one picked for many an gym class team–I’m against paying people millions of dollars for the thrill of us watching them play (whatever sport it is) well and then making a complete mess of their private lives very publicly.) We can’t afford our car culture, and I’d argue that our communities cannot afford television. We can’t afford beauty contests. And probably all the energy spent on remote-control model airplanes (except where they’re used to teach kids about aerodynamics).

I could go on and on about the totally useless things that form the heart of very big industries (and the central focus of far too many lives). Give up any one of them, and don’t bother us nerds about the space program anymore.

The second part of the argument (that we have earthly problems to deal with) is simple to destroy with a reactive question. “So, what have you given up to solve starvation, poverty, disease and war?” Ask not what you can do for your world, ask what someone else can do for it! In light of crushing global poverty, I’d argue we can’t afford McMansions. Or really, the rich in general. We can’t allow so much money to be spent by, and on, celebrities. We have real problems to deal with down here.

Help me out here. Name some totally useless things that humans waste precious talent, energy and resources on. And let’s start calling shame on that wastefulness, and start planning even bigger doors to a more exciting and purposeful future.

(And now I have to reveal that much of the venom of this piece was motivated by the fact that the weather forecasts keep telling me it’s clear, and yet it’s cloudy, and I really wanted to go out and look at the stars tonight.)

The Race (back) to the Moon

Sky and Telescope is one of the major monthly publications for amateur astronomers; it has a long history, some very talented writers, photographers and artists, and a long list of big corporate advertisers. They’re a serious bunch of people who do a lot for the amateur hobby, the professional science, and a general public that should know a lot more, generally, about where they are in the universe. It’s also packed with information about what planets are visible, when, and where, and includes a monthly sky map. It’s an excellent resource, and if you’re new to astronomy, this should be your very first purchase. Or, skip the consumerism, read it at your local library, and photocopy the star map for home use.

When my issue comes every month, I sit down and open it to the back. It’s a habit. I always read magazines from the back to the front. I should have been born in Japan. The last feature in Sky and Telescope is called Focal Point. It’s a chance for astronomers to write about a variety of non-technical subjects close to their passions: reflections on the observing life, stories about communicating astronomy to the public, or musings on the meaning of it all. I can usually expect to find the kind of astronomy writing I myself aspire to produce; enlightening, funny or moving, and always gently nudging readers to a wider understanding of our place in the universe.

In June, however, I was dismayed to find that Robert Wolfe’s “Who Will Be Next on the Moon?” (June 2009) did none of those things, and instead presented an awkward, nationalistic argument for re-energizing the US space program that rested on those standby twins of justification: economic development and national security. Wolfe starts his essay ominously: “U.S. citizens will wake up one day to watch Chinese taikonauts setting up a lunar base, resulting in us having to catch up once again.”

“Once again” references several things: the initial fright that the launch of the first artificial satellite, Sputnik, caused the US in 1957, the renewed terror that resulted from the USSR sending up Yuri Gagarin, the first man in space, just four years later, and a whole slew of other horrifying “firsts” that the supposedly decrepit USSR beat us too, including Alexie Leonov’s first space walk in 1965. The thought of the Chinese opening up these old wounds…well, I can’t speak of it. The shame of the early Space Race is enough!

Wolfe then outlines the economic benefits of returning to the moon: the much diminished escape velocity of rockets leaving the moon for destinations further afield, all that Helium 3 waiting to be mined for the as-yet-nonexistent fusion reactors, and the technological dividend of new technologies the second great race to the moon would bestow upon humanity Americans.

The economic argument laid out, he then slips in the national security argument: A moon base “will allow relatively easy delivery of defense systems to low-Earth orbit.” Let’s reflect on that a bit, and forget that Wolfe is the retired Chairman/CEO of Gencorp, “with companies that are involved in space propulsion and space-based defense systems.” Also forget that the Department of Defense was rightly called the Department of War until Truman, and the earlier title was more accurate if less friendly-sounding. When the US acquired a de-facto imperial hegemony after World War II, agressive war became an impossibility (the Mexicans and Phillipinos must have breathed a sigh of relief!) and every military action the US undertook became “defense”. Okay, so defense=war=people dying.

What we’re talking about here is anti-satellite and anti-ballistic missile technologies. Satellites don’t kill people directly, but they help guide the bombs and missiles, direct the soldiers, collect intelligence. Ground war is directed from space. Wolfe is talking about bringing the fighting into space. It’s a natural thing for a war-minded person to do.

Perhaps because the space industry has been so linked to the war industry, as Wolfe’s essay and position indicate, many of the people involved as astronauts and scientists and administrators have worked really hard at creating a different, peaceful vision of space exploration. Yeah, the Cold War kinda propelled the US forward into space (at least, it propelled the funding forward), but the tone of those involved has been more or less consistently peaceful. Talking to people in my astronomy club who remember watching tiny Sputnik fly overhead, they remember the wonder, the way it changed their worldview. And many of them became engineers and scientists as a result of that little chrome radio that simply fell but missed the earth for a short while. Few of them talk about wanting to pick up the technological sword to fight the Russians. Sputnik, to them, wasn’t Russian or communist, it was a human endeavor. The Apollo-Soyuz handshake that happened in earth orbit nary two decades later was more than a publicity stunt, it was a statement of this principle.

Hard science fiction dealing with space exploration picked up the tensions and themes. Arthur Clarke’s novel 2010: Odyssey Two and the 1984 film by Peter Gubers both dealt directly with the Cold War politics of space and a way around it. Ben Bova’s 1987 The Kinsman Saga imagined the earthbound Cold War ending when the two opposing nation’s lunar bases create their own separate peace. Yukinobu Hoshino’s 1984 manga 2001 Nights begins with the Soviet Premier and US president holding a peace summit in orbit so they keep the earth’s appearance from space, as a borderless, fragile thing, in the forefront of their minds. So, though the exploration of space and the technologies of war have since the beginning been linked, many of those involved in humanity’s push to the stars have urged us to embrace the same view of the earth from space that forged so many fictional peaces, and try like heck to create a real one.

These voices have urged us not to militarize and carve up space with short-sighted national goals. In the end, it is humanity that needs space, not the US or the Chinese or any national group. Let the Chinese space exploration program inspire and motivate us, but let us proceed in the spirit of cooperation. After all, those fancy technological devices Wolfe credits the US space program with providing are now made in China. It’s not us or them, it’s us and them. Finding Chinese taikonauts on the moon ahead of us is only “sad,” to use Wolfe’s word, to those who wish to make money off of putting weapons into space and moving human conflict into the skies.

Conflict in space is a dangerous and increasingly likely reality. The Bush Administration made a very quiet, but very serious, policy commitment to militarizing space. In 2002, the US unilaterally withdrew from the 1972 Anti-Ballistic Missile treaty, which is a cornerstone of the legal framework of space as a protected, demilitarized common. There’s speculation, none of it particularly well-founded, that the recent collision of an Iridium communications satellite with a Russian satellite was actually part of an anti-satellite weapons system. With two nations famed for their secrecy, it’s always hard to figure out the truth, but the ramifications of the incident are very real. The impact caused two huge clouds of debris to form that will spread out over an entire orbital path. Space debris could eventually become so common that space travel would become impossible…it’s called the Kessler Syndrome, and it’s a very dangerous reality.

We have to resist the militarization of space. It’s only a distant issue until weapons start raining down on us from orbital platforms. If satellites can see pretty much everything from orbit, including the fact that the hot dog I grilled yesterday was burned or what condiments I put on it, then they can also kill anyone they want. Space, as a frontier, could be the place where humans finally figure out that fighting one another is a rather silly at best and completely suicidal thing at worst. And maybe those humans will come back down to earth and finally convince the rest of us.

Antarctica is the place to look as a way forward. A whole continent run by an international treaty dedicated to peace and science. Let’s extend that model to space, and let’s try to use space exploration as a way for us to develop as a species. Quite simply, let’s try to suck a little less, and let’s try not to ruin things off our world as have done so well on it.

Main Moon and Saturn’s Moons

It wasn’t a very good weekend in this are for 100  Hours of Astronomy. But Sunday night it cleared up, and I packed the old white telescope into the old white Honda and headed downtown. Or should I say ‘ghost town’? For a while my first visitor was a cat. She was wary of me, paused, and then moved on.

100ha-1

I moved the scope down the street and parked it in front of Main Moon Chinese Restaurant. Given that the moon was out, I thought that was fitting. Here’s my scope and the restaurant:

100ha-2

I showed the moon and Saturn, and it’s four easily visible moons to about 7 people. Two young ladies who were delivering food for Main Moon, one customer who was waiting, a nice man who just passed by, and Kevin, the owner of Main Moon and one of his staff. Everyone enjoyed it. I could barely pick out the brightest stars because of all the glare. My house is just a mile away and the sky is actually pretty dark, but all the round globe streetlights downtown throw orange light up and out–not down on the ground which is where I guess people should really want it. Anyway, young astronomers downtown would be excused for thinking that the night sky is made up of the moon and a handful of bright “stars,” most of which are actually planets. Hmmm, maybe Geneva needs a dark sky ordinance?

Anyway, I took a few images of the moon through the eyepiece. This is just holding my Canon DSLR up to the eyepiece. I should get an adapter to mount the camera there, I might have better results, although these are not so bad:

The terminator line on the moon (line between day and night) is the best place to see real definition in the surface features.

The terminator line on the moon (line between day and night) is the best place to see real definition in the surface features.

A little lower on the terminator.

A little lower on the terminator

Astronomers who love to observe the moon sometimes jokingly refer to themselves as “lunatics”. However, their etymology is pretty accurate:

lunatic |ˈloōnəˌtik|

noun
a mentally ill person (not in technical use).

ORIGIN Middle English : from Old French lunatique, from late Latin lunaticus, from Latin luna ‘moon’ (from the belief that changes of the moon caused intermittent insanity).

Unfortunately, I remember from my time in Washington DC that most of the homeless around Dupont Circle had outpatient hospital wrist-bracelets on, and most of them seemed schizophrenic. It’s a shame that our mentally ill are too often left to sleep under the moonlight that was once thought to be the cause of their maladies. Just a little thought.

%d bloggers like this: