The Road to Infinity
In Stahl gehüllt
vom Strahl umwittert
die Schar, die Reich um Reich zerbrach
sie treten auf,
die Erde schüttert
sie schreiten fort, es donnert nach! (Goethe, Faust)
IN JULY 1969, the US landed two men on the Moon — perhaps the supreme achievement of human history. Yet its actual significance has been almost universally misunderstood, both then and now. Anti-White pundits have continued to denounce the entire space program with howls strangely reminiscent of the anti-space enthusiast in H.G. Wells’ Things to Come (1936): “We shall hate you more if you succeed than if you fail.”
The New York Times commemorated the Moon landing with an entire page of commentary solicited from various opinion molders. Some, like Henry Ford II, praised the venture in qualified terms, then quickly added: “We can master the problems of our cities just as we have mastered the challenge of space.”
Charles Evers, the Black mayor of Fayette, Mississippi, was more to the point: “The billions of dollars being spent on this Moon exploration program means that it will be even longer before America begins to keep her promises to the poor.”
White America was reaching out for the stars, but American Negroes, descendants of a people that could never even figure out how to make a wheel, wanted to clip our wings. If there is no other argument for the separation of races, this one is enough.
Europeans seem almost genetically programmed for exploration and development. In historical times, we exploded from our dark forests and in less than 2,000 years literally conquered the world. Other races may wander blindly when the hunting or the berries give out where they have settled, but only our race has an incurable int intellectual itch not only to see but understand what lies over the next hill.
The idea of space flight has been lurking around the edges of Western thought for centuries, ever since it occurred to philosophers that the lights in the sky could be worlds like this one. Two developments concretized it: One was the closing of the last frontiers on Earth, which could only numb the spirit of the one race that needs frontiers for psychic health; the other was the invention of the technology that made leaving Earth possible.
It was early recognized that rockets were the only possible means of getting into space, barring an unexpected breakthrough like the gravity-screening “Cavorite” in Wells’ First Men in the Moon (1901). The giant cannon so plausibly described by Jules Verne in De la Terre à la Lune (1865) had some serious drawbacks. If the shell was powerful enough to be fired at escape velocity, the astronauts inside would have been smashed to smithereens. The rocket, on the other hand, had a much better chance of success. The pioneering work was done by a Russian (Konstantin Tsiolkovsky), a German (Hermann Oberth, who late in his life would be an acquaintance of Dr. William Pierce and a sympathizer with the National Alliance’s work) and a White American (Robert Goddard).
“Earth,” Tsiolkovsky once said, “is the cradle of mankind, but one does not stay in a cradle forever.”
Little attention was paid to amateur rocket hobbyists until 1932, when the German Army took an interest in rockets because they were not expressly forbidden by the Treaty of Versailles. On the basis of a demonstration by several members of the Verein für Raümschifffahrt (Society for Space Travel), a group of rocketry enthusiasts, the Waffenprüfamt (Army Weapons Office, Test Section) hired one of the hobbyists, a doctoral candidate named Wernher von Braun. That led eventually to Peenemunde and the V-2. Suddenly the world took rockets very seriously.
When Germany collapsed, von Braun and most of his colleagues arranged to surrender to the Americans. Although the US had secured the top German minds in rocket science, it proceeded to keep them on ice for the next several years. The Russians succeeded not only in capturing most of the smaller fry but also vast amounts of hardware, including the enormous underground V-2 plant at Nordhausen. They lost no time exploiting their booty. The successful orbiting of Sputnik in 1957 should have surprised no one, but the shock did serve to jar Americans out of their apathy.
On May 25, 1961, less than three weeks after the US had launched its first man into space on a suborbital flight that lasted only a few minutes, President Kennedy announced: “I believe that this nation should commit itself to achieving the goal, before this decade is out, of landing a man on the Moon and returning him safely to Earth.” Kennedy’s real motive may have been less idealistic. He needed something to salvage his reputation after the Bay of Pigs disaster. Nevertheless, it was a popular decision, and Congress enthusiastically appropriated the necessary billions. The country was prosperous; Vietnam was no more than a distant rumble; and the liberals and minorities had been bought off with the pork barrel social programs of the “New Frontier.”
On the right, opinion was split. The pro side of the issue was masterfully summed up in the introduction to the 1962 edition of Francis Parker Yockey’s Imperium:
No longer is the drive toward infinity and largeness held back by earthly boundaries. Now, in fact, we have infinity at our elbow . . . . Barring calamity caused by universal physical or biological destruction, we are now headed for the stars, and there is no power in heaven or earth to stop us. Coming days will see the present drive for Space magnified a thousandfold — a millionfold. All limits to the possibility of expansion have disappeared. Geographical expansion on Earth is senseless and worse than senseless — it is suicide. The Frontier has come back — a Frontier that can never be dissipated.
The con side was heard from sesquipedalian conservative oracle William F. Buckley, whose column for June 1, 1963, was entitled: “The Moon and Bust?” Buckley was doubtful about the Apollo program because it seemed to have no immediate economic or military value. Even if the Russians did beat us to the Moon, he said, “can’t we say, with composure at that crowded session of the United Nations: Very well, you have reached the Moon, but meanwhile, here in America we have been trying, however clumsily, to spread freedom and justice.” How long did Buckley expect his Sunday School pieties to have any meaning in America once the Soviet Union gained the upper hand in space?
However, as the 1960s wore on the space race became rather one-sided as the Russians seemed to sag. It may be that their initial successes in space were due largely to a guiding genius named Sergei Korolyov, a Ukrainian engineer and a former inmate of Stalin’s Gulag. Korolyov was another dreamer in the best tradition of Tsiolkovsky. When he and his team launched the first Sputnik, he told his colleagues: “Tonight the dreams of the best sons of mankind have come true. The road to space is open!”
Standing athwart the road to space, however, was the pudgy figure of Nikita Khrushchev, who was primarily interested in space missions for their stunt value. After Korolyov died in 1967, the US pulled way ahead, only to find a new rival — Zambia!
According to a news report dated November 3, 1964, (and mentioned in British astronomer Patrick Moore’s book, Can You Speak Venusian? London, 1972), “America and Russia may lose the race to the Moon” to Zambia. This somewhat startling claim was attributed to Edward Mukaka Nkoloso, “Director-General of the Zambia National Academy of Space Research.” Nkoloso, who claimed to have ten Zambian astronauts and a seventeen-year-old African girl poised for the countdown, was quoted as follows:
I’ll have my first Zambian astronaut on the Moon by 1965. My spacemen are ready, but we’re having a few difficulties . . . we are using my own firing system, derived from the catapult . . . .
To really get going we need about seven hundred million pounds. It sounds [like] a lot of money, but imagine the prestige value it would earn for Zambia! But I’ve had trouble with my space-men and space-women. They won’t concentrate on space-flight; there’s too much love-making when they should be studying the Moon. Matha Mwamba, the seventeen-year-old girl who has been chosen to be the first coloured woman on Mars, has also to feed her ten cats, who will be her companions on the long space flight . . . . I’m getting them acclimatized to space-travel by placing them in my space capsule every day. It’s a 40-gallon oil drum in which they sit, and I then roll them down a hill. This gives them the feeling of rushing through space. I also make them swing from the end of a long rope. When they reach the highest point, I cut the rope. This produces the feeling of free fall.
Before the 1960s, serious speculation about space travel usually assumed a manned station would be constructed in orbit before the first Moon flight took place. The lunar landing was not to be the sole purpose of the move into space, but rather one of a series of naturally progressive steps, the most important being the first one: building the space station and establishing a permanent presence in space. As space scientist Dr. Jerry Pournelle has noted, “Once you are in orbit, you are halfway to anywhere.” The major part of the fuel is consumed while getting off the ground and into orbit, where the energy requirement for going on to the Moon or beyond is relatively low. The moonship itself could be constructed in orbit. It would never land, merely functioning as a shuttle to transfer landing craft from Earth orbit to lunar orbit and back again. Colonies would be established on the Moon and supplied from Earth until they were self-sufficient. Back in Earth orbit, more space stations would be built to contain factories, hotels, hospitals, and military installations. The guiding principle would be that each successive step woud be firmly based on the preceding one. Man would be in space to stay and economic exploitation would follow close on the heels of research and exploration.
But the Kennedy program bypassed all of the necessary first steps in its rush to get a man on the Moon as quickly as possible.
For any kind of economic development of space, an inexpensive and reusable system for launching crews and cargo into Earth orbit is urgently needed. Awesomely expensive rockets used once and then thrown away (“self-destruct totem poles” in Pournelle’s phrase) are not cost-effective. That is why the Dyna-Soar project was on the drawing boards in the late 1950s. But Dyna-Soar was scuttled and was not to be revived until the 1970s as the Space Shuttle. No permanent manned space stations were built in orbit. No permanent manned base was established on the Moon.
Still, there were positive results from Apollo. The several missions collected a great deal of valuable scientific data and performed useful experiments. So much concentrated research and development led to an enormous technological spinoff into other areas. Even more important was the feeling of triumphant accomplishment. German and European-American scientists, engineers, and technicians had worked together to achieve something beyond anything ever done before. Mentalities limited to daycare centers and welfare checks could only fret and fume. The Moon landings demonstrated all too clearly that Whites were cut out for a destiny far greater than that of other humans.
Anthony Jacobs’ article, “NASA,” in Instauration (July 1978) is a revealing study of how the immediate liberal-minority reaction to the Moon landing was first a frantic attempt to denigrate it as a waste. Then, when it couldn’t be effectively downgraded, equal credit was accorded to every featherless biped on Earth. Not far behind were demands that minorities be represented on future flights.
Why the Moon flights were crewed exclusively by White males was given the hypocritical and fraudulent explanation accorded to all racial matters. Astronaut Michael Collins claimed in his autobiography Carrying the Fire (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1974) that the absence of Blacks was sheer happenstance: “NASA should have had them, our group would have welcomed them, and I don’t know why none [applied to be astronauts]. Perhaps there simply weren’t any who had the flying/educational backgrounds required, or perhaps they were more interested in other careers.”
NASA bowed to pervasive minority racism. The Space Shuttle crews were a human zoo of minority groups in just the right percentages of each.
It is true the billions of dollars spent on Apollo could have been spent on the “cities” as the liberals and minorities wanted, but there would have been no Moon landing, no spinoff technology, no glorious achievement to remind us of who we are and what we can be. Just more Blacks.
After several Apollo flights, government support for the space program flagged. NASA proposals for regular Moon flights, a lunar base, and a manned expedition to Mars in the 1980s were turned down. NASA became a holding operation, concentrating on unmanned missions such as the Viking landing on Mars and the flybys of Jupiter and Saturn. Engineers and scientists were laid off in the aerospace industry by the droves. Even Wernher von Braun retired from NASA in 1972. In the book, The Rocket Team (Crowell, 1979), Dr. Charles Sheldon, former White House staff member on the National Aeronautics and Space Council, is quoted as saying, “There was always a lingering resentment at the Washington end toward von Braun and his team. There were always rumors that von Braun would someday be head of NASA. But there is a great sensitivity in Washington about racial and ethnic interests . . . . Von Braun would never be given a political position.” Although Sheldon did not elaborate, it is not hard to guess whose racial antennae would have quivered in horror over a man who had built rockets for Hitler.
The greatest spur to space flight may come from the limits of cheap energy on Earth. Earth’s human population has increased massively since the fall of Europe. The advanced nations cannot maintain their consumption levels forever or even for very long. Developing the entire Third World up to our levels of energy consumption is unthinkable. Earth is simply too small and too limited. To expand our range and tap new resources is the solution, and for that the only frontier left is space.
Unfortunately, space development offers no quick and easy solution to the problem of overpopulation. Earth is the only planet in the solar system where masses of people can live without technically sophisticated and expensive life-support systems. Due to the immense distances involved, other solar systems will be out of reach for a long time. Colonies may be established on the Moon, city-sized and free-floating colonies may be constructed at stable points of the Moon’s orbit. Mars and Venus may be made habitable by massive planetary engineering projects.
Of course, there is no question of transporting the Earth’s population, or a large fraction of it, to such colonies if they are built at all. Only a relatively small number will make the journey. Remember too that the technologically able people are not the ones who are proliferating beyond all reason, and they are the only ones who could establish and maintain complex artificial habitats. Life based on mud huts and rice paddies leaves plenty of margin for error. A space colony filled with the canaille of Bombay or the population surplus of an American inner city would end up as a vast orbiting tomb. Elevators in public housing frequently break down because ghetto youths use them for urinals (rotting the insulation of the wiring and causing short circuits). What would these vandals do to the delicate life-support systems of a fragile space colony?
Some of the most important battles for space will have to be fought and won here on Earth. From the introduction to Imperium:
Our venture to infinity will be very short lived if we come home to a rapidly degenerating human species; to nights that crawl with the prowlings of depraved, raceless savages, with only barred doors keeping the jungle out of the laboratory and the boudoir until day breaks . . . impossible taxes to support degenerative “welfare” schemes that are deliberately designed to proliferate the unfit and inferior at the expense of the productive and creative . . . .
More to the point, a song briefly popular in the mid-1960s, “Eve of Destruction,” mentioned a space mission that had lasted four days, then concluded cynically, “But when you return, it’s the same old place.” That says it all. If it’s the same old place, Aryan spacemen may not want to come back. Since the Earth has always been an albatross around their necks, they may want to stay out there — out there in the freedom of infinity where they can finally be themselves.
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Source: based on an article in Instauration magazine, July 1980