The space race is over: what’s the new frontier?

This past Monday we celebrated Columbus Day, or Indigenous Peoples’ Day—depending on the number of Whole Foods in your neighborhood—in honor of the man who crossed an ocean and introduced the Western hemisphere to the European style of  living. This notion of the intrepid explorer setting forth to tame nature and, in the historically inaccurate words of Gene Roddenberry, “go where no man has gone before” has been the hallmark of the American experience. From Lewis and Clark, to Manifest Destiny, to Neil Armstrong stepping foot on the moon, American history has been defined by man pushing the boundaries of where we can go.
There was always a taller mountain to climb or a longer river to navigate—until there wasn’t. Have we reached our natural limits? The Earth has been mapped by both man and satellite. Hell, we’ve hit golf balls from the surface of the moon, what more can there possibly be?
But these challenges were not just about climbing the mountain or reaching the moon—they were about providing a sense of national purpose and unity. As President John F. Kennedy said when he announced that a man would walk on the moon by the end of the decade, “Now it is time to take longer strides—time for a great new American enterprise …” In the subsequent five decades there has never been a similarly proactive call to national purpose.
Since that time, we have been bound together only by tragedy—President Reagan consoled us after the Challenger explosion, and President Bush united us in the aftermath of September 11. As stirring as their words were, they served to pick us up after being knocked down. There has yet to be a national call to action to overcome a challenge facing us.
After the immediate aftermath of September 11 wore off and the waiting rooms of blood banks were empty once more, the Bush Administration merely called on Americans to continue spending money to keep the economy going. The solicitation of American wallets was taken up once more in the aftermath of both Hurricane Katrina and the 2004 tsunami in Indonesia. These were instances when Americans could have been called to service, both at home and abroad, but the opportunity was missed.
Since Kennedy’s call to action, our government has expected less and less from us, as we have expected more and more from our government. In Kennedy’s speech, he told the public that no project will be “so difficult or expensive to accomplish.” It is difficult to imagine a US President today charging the American public to act on a tangible goal while highlighting the obstacles and difficulties that stand in the way of success. We are told to help protect America against terrorism without specific calls to action or honest conversations about the sacrifices that we must make.
President Obama, in his short time in office, seems to understand the power of proactive mobilization, but he seems constrained by the precedents set in the last half century. He has called for a tangible increase in national service, such as a day in observance of 9/11, but has yet to set clear goals on what he hopes will be achieved. There are no hurdles to clear or markers to pass on the road towards the ambiguous national service. Obviously, there will always be more to do, but the lack of a set goal encourages malaise and passivity.
The Pacific Ocean and the moon are tangible, places where flags can be planted and pictures taken. The American public can witness and take pride in these achievements. When confronting challenges that are more abstract, it is imperative that clear concrete goals are set by our leaders. Without quantifiable objectives, the sense of common purpose and unity will be as hazy and ephemeral as the challenge. Throughout our history, Americans have met the challenges that confront us, and we have sacrificed and suffered together to do what is difficult. As the world has grown smaller, the challenges we face have only grown larger. These challenges energize and unite us, and it is time that we begin to expect more of ourselves.
Soon after his recent death, a speech that William Safire wrote for President Nixon in July of 1969 began to circulate on the internet. It was never delivered; it was written in the event that the first astronauts to step foot on the moon could not be safely returned to Earth. He wrote, “In their exploration, they stirred the people of the world to feel as one; in their sacrifice, they bind more tightly the brotherhood of man. In ancient days, men looked at stars and saw their heroes in the constellations. In modern times, we do much the same, but our heroes are epic men of flesh and blood. Others will follow, and surely find their way home. Man’s search will not be denied.”