If we go to the Moon, let’s not go back to Apollo

Aristarchus crater might be a better alternate landing site for early Artemis missions than an Apollo site, if the moon’s south pole is ruled out. (credit: NASA / GSFC / Arizona State University)

by Christopher Cokinos
Monday, October 26, 2020

NASA Administrator James Bridenstine recently surprised the space community by suggesting that Artemis’s first manned surface mission to the Moon, scheduled for 2024, might not land at the South Pole as discussed above, but could return. to visit one of the Apollo landing sites in the easiest way to reach lunar equatorial regions.

“There could be scientific discoveries there, and of course the simple inspiration to go back to an original Apollo site would be quite surprising too,” Bridenstine said, raising the idea at a virtual meeting of the Lunar Exploration Analysis Group. In addition, he said, an Artemis mission to an Apollo site could establish “standards of behavior” for the historic protection of these important heritage areas.

Bridenstine has since vigorously backtracked these comments. “We’re actually going to the south pole of the Moon,” Bridenstine emphasized after I asked him about this during a meeting of the Lunar Surface Innovation Consortium earlier this month.

But NASA’s Artemis planning document does not specify that the Artemis 3 site will be the south pole. While the document mentions sampling in and near permanently shadowed regions, which are of course at the south pole, the report says: “The exact landing site of the Artemis III astronauts depends on several factors, including the specific scientific objectives and the launch date “.

Clearly, there is room for the change of a polar landing site if NASA decides. Ambiguity may prevail with a change in management.

Regardless, Bridenstine’s initial comments may reflect, I believe, an inherent misunderstanding of Apollo’s legacy in the 21st century. If we are headed for the Moon, to borrow NASA’s witty and even inspiring rhetoric, going back to Apollo right away is a mistake.

It is worth remembering that as triumphant as Apollo was and as enlightened as our nostalgia for him, at least in the space community, public support for the program was never greater during his time, as historian Roger Launius has noted. and others. outside. Public interest waned considerably after the Apollo 11 landing for a number of reasons, including declining press coverage and the continued swirl of other concerns, such as Vietnam and civil rights. It is also the case that, having “won the race” with the Soviets, public enthusiasm simply waned. It is also undeniable that both NASA and the scientific community did an atrocious job trying to convey the wonder, mystery, and usefulness of our closest companion in space. To be fair, neither the astronauts nor the scientists were experts in the art of public communication.

Despite last year’s 50th anniversary uproar over the Eagle landing in the Sea of ​​Tranquility, a Pew public opinion poll showed that climate change and planetary defense ranked far higher as NASA priorities compared to manned landings on the Moon or Mars.

Landing one of the first Artemis missions on an Apollo site could well be perceived as a very expensive tourist trip. While protocols need to be established for the protection of Apollo and other spacecraft on the Moon, it shouldn’t be part of our first, second, or even third human landing on the Moon in decades.

To provide the planetary scientific community with new and robust data, Artemis 3 and other early missions to the lunar surface would have to go to a new location, be it the South Pole or elsewhere.

And, equally important, to increase the public’s excitement about our lunar future, Artemis should do immediately what Apollo did late: go to greatness. The lunar south pole will certainly not be lacking in this given its dramatic, grazing light.

Apollo 15 had the lunar Apennines and Hadley Rille. Apollo 17 had the giant Taurus-Littrow Mountains. But because the public no longer cared to look, and because the image quality was not particularly good, the sublime nature of these places left no mark on our collective consciousness. In fact, the iconic images of Apollo were Earthrise and Blue Marble, both photographs of our home world.

Artemis can change that. With high-definition imagery and social media, which NASA excels at, the penetration of exciting landscapes into the public sphere will be profound. With astronauts trained to give more lyrical descriptions (another theme altogether), Artemis can excite audiences about the Moon like no other show has, not even Apollo. This is not trivial. We have seen how the images of Mars, the gas giants, Pluto and other destinations in the solar system have caused great anticipation.

The rugged terrain speaks to us of the wild. Put the human adventure in great context. Hence a possible criterion: Doing great science in dramatic places. A sustainable human presence on the Moon requires understanding and beauty. It really requires looking forward.

So if a polar landing is postponed and we skip a retro-trip to an Apollo site, what location could allow us to tap into exciting recent lunar science questions and do so in a sublime location?

Aristarchus. Landing Artemis 3 in or next to this crater will be dangerous. But it will allow the crew to visit a truly grand and complex crater, one of the brightest on the Moon. The amount of exposed bark ejected by the Aristarchus impact would promise a lot of good science. The plateau is also cut by a gigantic valley formed by lava flows. There is an irregular mare patch in the region indicating recent volcanism. And the area has historically been the site of transient lunar phenomena, where degassing has likely raised statically charged moondust. The Apollo 11 crew even sighted an abnormal glow of the region from orbit. Selecting among these possible locations in the area will be difficult, as one mission could not visit all of them.

Complex craters, with their multiple terraces, often fractured floors, and massive central mountains, are the most photogenic landscapes on the Moon. The high definition images of Artemis’s explorations in and around Aristarco would be unforgettable. They would inspire public interest in sustained human presence on the Moon much more than a postcard trip to an Apollo site. Humans have never landed in or near such a place.

Perhaps the most widely circulated dramatic close-up photograph of the lunar surface during the Apollo era came not from crews, but from the Lunar Orbiter’s oblique view of Copernicus Crater from 1966. Hailed as “the picture of the century,” it appeared in covers all over the world and frankly I think it still puts the Sea of ​​Tranquility to shame.

Crucially, they attract other non-Apollo sites, including, as lunar scientist Peter Schultz argues, the Reiner Gamma magnetic anomaly or the haunting-looking jagged mare patch Ina. Both are likely to need boots on the ground to do the science necessary to characterize these sites and understand their stories. Schultz believes that they are scientifically more convincing than Aristarchus. He is right. However, I can’t help feeling that the audience will respond with more visceral enthusiasm to a tremendously rugged and mountainous place. Science comes first. But the public interest, for better or worse, is tied to the visual rhetoric of exploration. Drama matters. Balancing these needs is important to an audience that still needs to be convinced that Artemis is a good idea.

Speaking of Apollo, there may be one more reason to go to Aristarchus. It’s where Apollo 18 was going to land. Going there would give the space community an opportunity to talk about why subsequent Apollo missions were canceled and why a sustainable lunar program should be different.

In any case, if we can’t get to the pole in Artemis 3, move on to a new location and don’t return to an Apollo site, not yet. Lunar sustainability cannot afford the appearance of costly nostalgia that could risk dampening shaky public support.

Author or co-editor of seven books, Christopher Cokinos is one of the editors of the new anthology. Beyond the edge of the earth: the poetry of spaceflight. He teaches creative writing and science communication at the University of Arizona. His work has taken him 600 miles north of the Arctic Circle and to Antarctica. His essay on the phosphine of Venus was published in the Los Angeles Times. He is working on a book about the Moon.

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