Curiosity, Exploration and the End of the Shuttle

Two of the past few weeks' biggest news stories are, at one level at least, more related than they appear. The first is NASA's final Space Shuttle mission, a story that captures the sentimental attention of this quasi-Floridian. Throughout my years in Orlando, we would be awakened by sonic booms, or join the entire neighborhood outside and look East for the shuttle launch. My father described it as a camera flash followed by a tail of smoke. Even before we moved to the Sunshine State, I would excitedly watch the countdowns with my parents to see those wonderful machines suddenly create tidal waves of smoke to propel itself into orbit. The idea that America's astronauts are suddenly international hitchhikers saddens me, not because there's any shame in in foreign air travel (indeed, I wish China, Russia and co. all the best), but because human space travel was an exhilarating American venture.

The second story is the News of the World scandal in Great Britain. I dislike both tabloid journalism (except for the opportunity to smirk at a clever headline) and schadenfreude, so I honestly haven't been following all of the lurid details. What got me thinking about the two stories in connection was both the Economist's decidedly unsentimental take on the space program and Die Zeit's smart reflection about the scandal and tabloid press in general.

The Economist seems more than happy to bury the risky ambition of human space travel, and their Eeyore-like response has been rightly chastised by its readers. It would be a pity if their prophecy, with a view of the world about as exciting as an accounting spreadsheet, proves correct. Yes, space flight is risky and costly, but those involved know the risks and know the cost. That is why they are called heroes. Space exploration, including human space exploration, is worthy of both public and private investment; It's worth the investment of intelligent minds, careful hands and courageous souls.

This leads me to the Zeit article. Die Zeit reminds us why tabloid journalism is so profitable, and why those who run and work for these newspapers have an enormous incentive to break convention, morality and law to sell us the profitable details. We want them, and we're willing to pay. Why? Because we are curious creatures. We're curious enough to slow down and look at the traffic accident on the other side of the highway. We're curious enough to look through the open windows of private residents. Curious enough to buy the newspaper that can feed us all the gossip as quickly as possible. Whatever else Murdoch did, he knew human nature well enough to spot a lucrative business opportunity. As politicians, pundits and public wax on about these crimes, we would do well to remember, as the Zeit does, that they would never have been committed had there been no market for it.

But inasmuch as curiosity is a vice, it is also a virtue. One of the most intelligent men I've ever met was a maintenance inspector for Walgreen's in Orlando. I got to know him, because his second job was my summer job when I was in college, and we would carpool to work together. Whatever he lacked in university knowledge, he made up for in his ability to ask the right questions on any given subject. These were the kind of questions, spurred by an uninhibited but non-morbid curiosity, that aimed like a sniper's laser at the heart of any issue, from theology to aerodynamics, to deliver the maximum amount of useful information. It was an impressive gift, and (I have to admit) I still envy it. On the same note, die Zeit has an interesting quote from Albert Einstein (my rough translation): "I'm not especially talented, but rather passionately curious."

Curiosity ranks high among the virtues that propelled us into space. And in the midst of budget battles, war, economics and everything else bringing fatigue to our nation, I worry that this curiosity is being squelched. Yes, as the Economist points out, much of that curiosity is still being worked by today's Einsteins, the scientists who launch satellites, look through telescopes and collect data to help us understand the universe in all its dimensions. This is wonderful and commendable work. But there is a courageous sort of curiosity that calls the bravest of us to actually go there ourselves. To break orbit. To land on the moon. To go beyond. Sure, we can lampoon this with Star Trek quotes or smilingly mourn them with these quotes (h/t Adam), but our society is no better without this spirit.

We are curious creatures. Curiosity is a gift from God, and like all gifts, we can use it for good or ill. The courageous curiosity of the explorer, out of fashion today perhaps, is a nobler investment than tabloid journalism. We're willing to invest a lot of money so that the Rupert Murdochs of the world can feed our curiosity about stars, celebrities and suffering souls. I'll admit that the gratification is not nearly as immediate, but perhaps our curiosity is better focused upwards.