Why Artemis II Matters

    In a recent class, a friend of mine asked his students a simple question: What do you think about the Artemis II mission? You what her got? Silence...Crickets! A few blank stares. Then, finally, a shrug. “It’s a waste of money,” one student said. Others nodded. Another called it “outdated” — something their grandparents might have cared about, but not them. 

    Not one student mentioned the astronauts. Not one brought up the science. No one expressed even a flicker of curiosity or awe at the remarkable images of the earth, moon, and space that were being shared rom the Integrity space capsule. They weren’t hostile. They were indifferent…which is frighteningly worse. And that indifference is the real problem.

    For all the justified attention we give to the scientific and technological gains of space exploration, we have lost sight of something equally important; its capacity to inspire wonder. Artemis II is not just about testing systems or advancing research. It is about rekindling a sense of awe, something increasingly rare in a world flattened by screens, algorithms, and curated feeds.

    There was a time when space missions commanded the attention of an entire nation. When Apollo 11 carried Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin to the Moon, way back in 1969, millions of Americans watched not out of obligation, but out of genuine fascination, awe, and wonder. We saw something larger than ourselves. We felt, if only briefly, that humanity was capable of greatness.

    Today, that shared sense of wonder has eroded. Our young people are not short on information; they are starved for meaning. They scroll endlessly through content designed to capture attention but rarely to elevate it. In such a landscape, a mission like Artemis II feels almost alien; too earnest, too ambitious, too real. And yet, that is precisely why it matters.

    Space exploration offers something few other public endeavors can; perspective. The images coming back alone — the Earth suspended in darkness, fragile and finite — have reshaped how generations understand their place in the universe. They remind us that our daily grievances, our campus debates, our digital performances, exist within something far grander. That perspective is not trivial. It is formative.

    When young people encounter true scale — of distance, of risk, of human ingenuity — they begin to recalibrate their ambitions. They start to ask different questions. Not just “What job should I get?” but “What am I capable of building, discovering, contributing?”

    This is where the critics miss the point. They reduce Artemis II to a line item in the federal budget, as though its value can be measured solely in dollars and cents. But not everything of consequence fits neatly into a cost-benefit analysis. The return here is cultural and civic. It lies in the imagination of a generation.

    I think we should want our young people to be captivated by something real. Not just dopey influencers or viral moments, but engineers, scientists, and astronauts who embody discipline, courage, and perseverance. The crew of Artemis II — modern heirs to the Apollo generation — represent a kind of heroism increasingly absent from public life. They train for years, accept enormous risk, and pursue excellence not for attention, but for achievement. That MATTERS — more than we often admit. 

    There is also a deeper civic dimension. A healthy society requires shared aspirations — projects that transcend individual self-interest and. remind us what we can accomplish together. The space program has long served that role. It is one of the few arenas where national pride, scientific inquiry, and human curiosity align. 

    At a moment when trust in institutions is fragile and public life feels increasingly fragmented. that alignment is no small thing. It also carries a message we should not overlook; the United States can still do great things. In an era defined by doubt — about our institutions, our leadership, even our future — Artemis II is a quiet but powerful rebuttal. It shows that large-scale, complex, ambitious endeavors remain within our reach.

    Of course, Artemis II will yield scientific insights. It will test technologies critical for future missions. These are all worthy goals. But if we stop there, we miss the larger point. The true power of Artemis II lies in its ability to restore wonder; to remind us, and our young people, that there is more to aspire to than comfort and convenience. That risk and rigor still matter. That the pursuit of knowledge, at its most ambitious, is a defining feature of a confident society.

    We should not apologize for that ambition. We should celebrate it. Because in the end, the question is not whether Artemis II is worth the cost. It is whether we can afford to raise a generation that no longer believes in big things or in a country capable of achieving them.

    A society that loses its sense of awe and wonder will soon lose its capacity for greatness. Per aspera ad astra. Here endeth the lesson. 

Write to Peter: magtour@icloud.com