In 1956, a foreign policy analyst at the RAND corporation proposed sending an atom bomb to the moon. An explosion on the lunar surface, he suggested, would produce a spectacular visual display. Daft as the plan sounds, it did not immediately go away. Two years later, the Jet Propulsion Laboratory revived the idea and a secret feasibility study was conducted. According to that study, a lunar explosion would have “beneficial psychological results”, namely scaring the crap out of the Russians.
I was reminded of RAND’s clever jape when I heard the news last week that the Chinese had landed their Chang’e 4 spacecraft on the far side of the moon. Their lunar probe is a great deal more sophisticated than a brutish atom bomb, but the political message is basically the same. The Chinese were telling the world: “Look what we can do.” Ever since the 1950s, space spectaculars have figured prominently on the CV of a superpower.
Chang’e 4 is certain to have annoyed Donald Trump. Americans get rattled when their technological supremacy is threatened. During the Cold War, the Soviets devised the perfect way to undermine American confidence. They took a simple rocket and used it to launch into space a satellite, then a dog, then a man, then a woman, then two men. Each feat suggested technological progression, but was in fact a case of same old, same old. Russian space stunts distracted attention from the fact that the Americans were forging ahead in space, by launching weather, spy and communication satellites. To most people, however, all that technical wizardry paled in comparison to a dog in orbit.
Space, as the Chinese understand, provides an excellent arena for populist politics. Back in the Cold War, the space pioneer Wernher von Braun was a genius at manipulating public opinion with space gimmicks. He teamed up with Walt Disney in order to stoke public expectations, presenting space as a great adventure rather than sober science. As he was fond of saying, “There’s no bucks without Buck Rogers.” The Apollo mission to the moon, fuelled by Von Braun’s hype, was a political stunt paid for, in part, by severe cutbacks in NASA’s budget for space science and satellite technology.
The populist Von Braun would have loved the world we live in now, where simplistic soundbites, febrile tweets and outrageous gimmicks have so much impact. He understood that people tend to turn off their critical faculties when judging what happens up there. We’re easily bowled over by the awesome majesty of outer space and, as a result, fail to perceive the politics behind massively expensive projects. Staggering amounts of money are spent on a Mars probe, without any concerted discussion of purpose or benefit. Those white-coated techies at NASA seem like benign scientists, not cynical politicians. We fail to notice the far side of the moon.
Space is a gigantic sleight-of-hand trick – flashy gimmicks out there mask nefarious objectives down here. Elon Musk understands that dynamic as well as anyone. A year ago, he used his Space-X rocket to launch a cherry-red Tesla roadster toward Mars. It missed its target, but hardly anyone noticed. We’re told that David Bowie was playing on the car’s speakers as it headed for the asteroid belt. How cool is that? Journalists were predictably effusive in their praise, with few inclined to question its real purpose: was this about space exploration, or about selling cars? The uber-confident Musk seemed not only to be exploiting people’s gullibility but making fun of it at the same time.
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