Cosmonauts

Neil Armstrong was the first man on the moon, but Yuri Gagarin was the first man in space. In being proud of our own accomplishments and excitement over Armstrong's famous words as he took those steps, we seemed to have forgotten that President Kennedy mandated the race for the moon only after we lost the race into space. The Soviet Space program was as illustrious as ours, filled with heroes and heroic deeds. Among the "firsts" they claimed were: first artificial satellite in space (Sputnik I, 1957), first man in space (Yuri Gagarin, 1961), first woman in space (Valentina Tereshova, 1963), and first space walk (Alexei Leonov, 1969). Before the International Space Station, there was Mir. For 15 years (1986-2001), Mir was our human outpost in space and hosted both Russian cosmonauts and American astronauts. Cosmonaut Valeri Polyakov stayed 438 days on board Mir, the record for any human living continually in space and long enough for a journey to Mars. The depth of Russian knowledge of navigation and human physiology in space could only be imagined. Their contribution to the human race's eventual conquest of space was immeasurable.

Space exploration and travel have always brought out my innermost child and unleashed my most repressed aspirations. So it was with wonder and ineffable anticipation that I went to the Cosmonaut Museum in Moscow. I had felt the same way when I went to visit the Kennedy Space Center in Florida and the Johnson Space Center at Houston. When I stepped out of the metro station, the Cosmonaut Museum was easy to spot by the 100m soaring silver tower capped by a model of a rocket. But as I walked closer, I wasn't sure whether I came to the right place. The grounds of the museum seemed to me no more than a junk yard. It was surrounded by wire fences that did nothing to keep anyone out. The silver tower and the building underneath which housed the museum were covered with graffiti. There were broken beer bottles and litter everywhere. Skateboarders and teenage kids with trick bikes tried to scale the slope of the tower and perform stunts coming down. The only explanation was the museum was closed for renovation, but I couldn't appreciate much activity toward achieving that end.

Depressed by the sight, I strolled through the nearby USSR Exhibition Center. It was built in the 1930's to tout the successes of the Soviet economic system. For the first time in Russia, I felt that I was in the "former Soviet Union." I thought about our former rivals and what happened to them. Might not the Cosmonaut Museum be a metaphor for the disintegration of the Soviet Union? In our rivalry, as Americans, we liked to think of ourselves as the underdogs. The Soviets were the aggressors, stronger, meaner, and ready to destroy us. But with our will to win and our American can-do spirit, we would beat this insurmountable force. In the end, we were the insurmountable force. Through our arms race and space race, they were bankrupted and we became the only remaining superpower.

The irony is not lost upon us that a Russian Soyuz is going to launch an experiment by American scientists on to an internationally sponsored space station. Our competing space programs have become collaborators. Perhaps this is the naivete of an optimist, but if this is an example that science can bring together former enemies, then maybe the human race can transcend the hatred and suspicion we have for each other on this earth and look collectively toward the sky.