Artemis II’s optimism and cynicism about the future of the moon
There was a brief moment during the Trial of Artemis II mission when it felt like humanity had collectively decided to stop being cruel and start cooperating with each other to achieve deeply cool shit. The entire mission marked humanity’s return to the moon (okay, fine – our return to lunar-adjacent space), but really it felt more like a sightseeing trip as we reminisced about the barriers we once broke and were enveloped in the wonder we’ve yet to see before us. In a sense, it was a space mission appropriate for an era of reboots, remakes, sequels, prequels and legacy sequels, but far more emotionally affecting than any other Star Wars sequel has ever been.
Its strong optimism stood in stark contrast to the second half of the news cycle, which was sucked in by the heavy gravity of Donald Trump’s second term. Threatening to wipe entire civilizations off the map, Artemis II exuded an optimism that I couldn’t help but feel had a tinge of cynicism buried deep within it, embedded in the distant future of the moon, a future that Artemis II and its follow-up missions will attempt to make a reality.
The Artemis II mission was competence porn, and as we live in the fading afterglow of its success (its crew is scheduled to splash down on Earth on Friday, April 10), you can feel yourself coming down from the pinnacle of the wonderful things humanity can achieve and finally starting to ask yourself perhaps the most important question of the entire mission: why now?
Why go back to the moon at all?
The obvious answer is that we should constantly explore space to better understand our place in this vast universe. While I’m sure some sentiment along those lines is shared by most, if not all, who work at NASA, I’m not sure that sentiment is shared by anyone in the rest of the government, who see the wonder of Artemis as the first salvo in another space race, with China as our adversary this time.
I was hoping all the optimism would feel purely Star Trekingly utopian, but it doesn’t. Not quite. There is an undeniable hint of old-fashioned colonialism in it, but now IIIIINNNN SPPPPAACCE-Ace-ace.
The Outer Space Treaty is a document dating back to 1967 that established the basic international legal framework that ensures that space and all celestial bodies will be used only for peaceful purposes. In short, it ensures that no one owns the moon. It has worked well all these years, but only because there has been no one up there to test its limits, for in the hazy liminal space left by the broadly written text of the Outer Space Treaty is where the tiny microscopic germs of cynicism will fester, thrive and grow.
The US and China are racing to be the first to test them. For example, the treaty doesn’t place many restrictions on what you can take from the moon, and only talks broadly about what we can do to extract the things we take.
This is when the hopeful optimism of Artemis II gives way to ruthless earthly resource wars. Moon bases are inevitable because you can’t mine a giant space rock for the trillions it’s worth in a single afternoon. So permanent or semi-permanent mining operations have to be established that happen to have a Chinese or American flag planted on them, you know, just to spice up the collection and not as a way to claim a territory or anything.
Does Artemis II pave the way for more human nonsense, but now on the moon?
In retrospect, we’ll probably realize that the awe-inspiring performance of Artemis II merely paved the way for humanity to do what we do best: drag our crap problems with us everywhere we go, even beyond the stars.
Every other nation with a fledgling space agency will be watching closely what the US and China do (China wants to put astronauts on the moon sometime before 2030) in the hope that they too can swoop in and stake their claim on the new resource frontier, all the while pretending that it’s not exactly what the Outer Space Treaty was specifically designed to prevent.
Ultimately, the moon is just another piece of land of strategic value; we just couldn’t take advantage of it until now-ish, which I qualified because it will still be some time before we start seeing permanent lunar settlements.
All of this smacks of Artemis II’s triumph, making it feel a bit like seeing a real estate agent looking for the long-abandoned lot at the end of the block for the first time in years. It’s nice to finally have someone interested in it again. All you can do now is hope that whoever eventually moves in isn’t an asshole.
The whole mission has been a beautifully executed reminder of what we can achieve when we’re not selfish monsters. Unfortunately, as humanity loves to prove time and time again, we are still very much these selfish monsters, and if we constantly refuse to evolve beyond our monstrous ways, the achievement of Artemis II will simply lead to the monetization, corporatization, and eventual exploitation of its achievement.
We needed this moment of glory in the midst of nihilism. I just hope it doesn’t all end up being, in retrospect, a bit of hopeful space-based theater that opens the door to even more nihilism.
