Operation Moonglow
Page 24
In the days following the mission, reports from American embassies and USIS posts reinforced how “worldwide reaction to the Apollo 11 mission has been unprecedented.” “Morocco held its collective breath,” raved Ambassador Henry Tasca. “Never in all my years in the service of the United States abroad have I witnessed an event with anything like the psychological effect of [the first lunar landing].” Apollo 11 “was a unifying experience,” captivating everyone in Rabat, from the “King and the street beggar” to the young and old. Perhaps overconfidently, Tasca believed that there was “no doubt that the international position of the United States in all its aspects has been deeply” and, he hoped, “irreversibly changed.” He predicted a host of potential effects, including the perceived superiority of “the American system and values,” the prestige of the US educational system, the erasing of “any image of weakness” resulting from Vietnam, a widespread identification with the lunar landing in the global South, and having the West’s reactions to US policies and leadership become more unified in the future.55
The USIA reported record-breaking use of the agency’s press material by foreign newspapers and publications. Of the thirty-nine articles sent to Hong Kong, newspapers printed thirty-two. The agency estimated that in India between 70 percent and 80 percent of all photographs and articles were sourced from USIA material. The Moroccan press “ran virtually all items sent,” while one of the major Belgrade papers used material from the USIA for five of the six pages of its special color supplement on space exploration.56
The USIA also kept track of instances when agency rhetoric filtered into the foreign press or speeches. In Rome, the title of one of the USIA pamphlets, “L’Uomo sulla Luna,” became the title of most Italian media special inserts as well as radio and television programs on space. Although this title, translated into English as “Man on the Moon,” did not contain the universalist rhetorical underpinnings of other USIA material, the act of adoption demonstrated the potency of agency material in the framing of nonagency lunar exploration coverage.57
A weekly public opinion poll conducted in Rio de Janeiro by the Jornal do Brasil found that Apollo 11 was followed enthusiastically through all forms of media and that only 18 percent of interviewees were not “absorbed” in moon landing coverage.58 An opinion poll conducted in Britain and France found that “the U.S. space standing, unlike U.S. military standing, had a definite relationship… to both the U.S. general strength image and confidence in the U.S. handling of world affairs.” These results suggested again to USIA public diplomats that spaceflight was a “particularly useful subject for US communications overseas.”59
There was also evidence of smaller-scale local impact. “In addition to effecting changes in attitudes around the world,” one foreign affairs officer based in South Africa related, “the Apollo 11 mission may bring about some more practical changes.” The South African government had not authorized the establishment of a television network, prompting some people to charter flights to other countries to watch the moon landing live. Widespread disappointment about not having access to the live coverage of the moon landing fed into “mounting pressure for the establishment of a television service.”60 An American journalist based in Japan observed that Apollo “added ammunition for the pro-American policies of the conservative Liberal-Democratic government of Prime Minister Eisaku Sato.” Opposition parties—socialists advocating “unarmed neutrality” and Communists who argued for the withdrawal of US military presence—“lost face.”61
A few days after the mission, a group of poets in the Republic of China (Taiwan) gathered in Taipei to write poems about the lunar landing. The State Department translated a selection of these poems and sent them to President Nixon.62 A poet in Israel composed a piece for President Nixon that expressed hope that the “white queen” would “bestow understanding on the people.”63 Both Pablo Neruda and W. H. Auden, moved by Apollo 11, wrote poems to explore the significance of lunar exploration. Neruda, the politically outspoken writer and member of Chile’s Communist Party, penned a poem dedicated to the astronauts, expressing hope that “the new visitors to the Moon will leave up there a portrait of that good poet Jules Verne who showed them the way.”64 He had examined space exploration in poems throughout his career, including “Lazybones,” which he composed shortly after Sputnik 1 orbited the Earth. The two poets did not herald the astronauts’ accomplishment or the impressiveness of America’s scientific and technological know-how. Instead, they considered the ways that lunar exploration could expand human imagination and heighten expectations for a better life on Earth.65
From Hungary to Guyana, leaders congratulated Nixon and the Apollo 11 crew on the historic mission. Many of these letters adopted US public diplomats’ framing of the significance of the moon landing, including phrases like “for all mankind.” But what was even more notable than the inclusion of global rhetoric was the widespread prevalence of the word “hope.” The majority of congratulatory letters contained the word “hope” and expressed the wish that the lunar program would benefit “all of mankind” by bringing the world peace, prosperity, and other markers of progress promised in years of US public information programming. President Duvalier of Haiti told Nixon that it was his “hope that this historic milestone will contribute to the well-being of all mankind.” President Kenyatta of Kenya wrote that it was his “hope that this momentous event will serve to strengthen the cause of international peace, security and co-operation for the benefit of all mankind.” President Tito of Yugoslavia noted that it was his “hope that this achievement of human brain and ability inspire all countries and peoples in the world to work together.” And the king of Morocco used the phrase “all mankind” three times in his short congratulatory telegram. These messages, and the hundreds of other letters sent to Nixon, articulate very similar sentiments: they describe enthusiasm within their country for the lunar landing, and they convey unfulfilled wishes for social and political progress.66
Whether or not space exploration was actually viewed as “for all mankind” or “all humankind” by foreign leaders, the press, and the world public, this language was a central feature of how the intentions, accomplishments, and benefits of Apollo were articulated. Language is appropriated for many reasons, from an expression of goodwill and alliance to an assertion of power. Often, world leaders used the space rhetoric promoted by US diplomats to cloak broader discussions of national and international needs, to push back on US policies, and to articulate their own definitions of progress. The use of this global rhetoric and the reiterating of the phrase “for all mankind” do not necessarily represent a demonstration of shared beliefs and interests. But it clearly played a performative role by facilitating communication about national and international interests in an increasingly interwoven but diverse global community.67
The day after the moon landing, Nixon felt energized and inspired. He gathered his closest advisors and expressed the “need now to establish the mystique of the presidency.” Chief of Staff H. R. Haldeman recorded in his notes that Nixon was so “impressed by the astronauts last night” that he had an idea, a new leitmotif. He wanted to start using the word “‘GO’ as the theme” for his presidency. To Nixon, it meant “all systems ready, never be indecisive, get going, take risks, be exciting.” What he was less enthusiastic about was the New York Times article “Nixoning the Moon,” published shortly after the launch. It criticized the president for taking any credit for the moon landing when it was Kennedy and Johnson who initiated the Apollo program. “Mr. Nixon’s attempt to share the stage with the three brave men on Apollo 11 when they attain the moon appears to us rather unseemly,” the Times editorialized. Even worse, Nixon’s behavior evoked “the type Khrushchev used to indulge in. It strikes us as unworthy of the President.” Livid, Nixon told Haldeman to put a White House press ban on the New York Times.68
Nixon’s response on July 21, both his animosity toward negative press and the inspiration he took from the moon landing, de
monstrates his sensitivity to and appreciation for public image. As Eisenhower, Kennedy, and Johnson before him, Nixon understood the role of public relations in politics. However, the difference was in how it played out. The moon landing and the conflicting press coverage that surrounded it convinced Nixon that he should leverage the popularity of spaceflight and control the media narrative, an effort that did not produce wholly positive consequences. Historian Kathryn Brownell argues that Nixon’s meeting with his advisors on July 21 initiated the centralization of Nixon’s public relations operation. What would become known as the Committee to Re-elect the President (CREEP) drove this effort over the next few years. Taking a cue from the moon landing, CREEP sold Nixon as a “man of action” with a bold vision.69 The moon landing taught Nixon that he should be “looking for a sense of history and a sense of drama,” believing it was a key to the success of his presidency and the assertion of a global leadership position.70
10
OPERATION MOONGLOW,
AUGUST 1969
In Nixon’s eyes, the American “spirit”—as exemplified by the Apollo mission to the Moon—was the most important psychological weapon that could be used.
—WILLIAM SAFIRE
The sun was rising over the Pacific Ocean as Columbia’s three main parachutes opened, slowing the spacecraft to a relatively gentle 22 miles per hour. They held Columbia at a slight angle so its leading edge would cut through the water first. The impact attenuation system—a series of crushable ribs made of four-inch-thick corrugated aluminum within the structure of the command module—combined with the crew’s suspended couches, absorbed some of the force of impact. But still, Michael Collins recalled, “Splat! Like a ton of bricks, we hit.”1
President Nixon and his advisors had taken a spot on the flag bridge of the recovery aircraft carrier USS Hornet for a better view. “We saw the fireball (like a meteor with a tail) rise from the horizon and arch through the sky, turning into a red ball, then disappearing,” Haldeman wrote in his diary. Landing about thirteen miles from the Hornet, and over 800 miles southwest of Hawaii, on July 24, Apollo 11 fulfilled the last step of Kennedy’s challenge: returning the astronauts safely to Earth.2
President Richard Nixon on the USS Hornet watching the Apollo 11 splashdown, 1969. (NATIONAL AERONAUTICS AND SPACE ADMINISTRATION)
At first, Columbia bobbed upside down in the ocean swell. But before long, large beach-ball-like inflation bags righted the craft. By the time green dye released into the water signaled the location, recovery crews were already hovering overhead in helicopters. Swimmers jumped from the helicopters, stabilized the spacecraft, deployed inflatable life rafts, and prepared for Armstrong, Aldrin, and Collins’s decontamination process. A recovery net lifted the moon travelers dressed in biological isolation garments up one by one to the helicopter to be transported to the aircraft carrier. All the while, the USS Hornet powered closer toward the landing site, stopping just half a mile from the spacecraft.3
President Nixon watched the scene unfold. “Exuberant, really cranked up, like a little kid,” Nixon “soaked it all up,” wrote Haldeman. He waved and even showed off his “fancy binoculars.” At Nixon’s request, the Hornet band played “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean,” a nod to the spacecraft’s name, when the astronauts arrived on deck.4
The Apollo 11 crew swiftly made their way to the mobile quarantine facility (MQF), an Airstream trailer modified to prevent the spread of lunar microorganisms, however unlikely their presence might be. After changing into more comfortable NASA flight suits and receiving medical exams, the astronauts assembled in front of the trailer’s window to speak to the president.5 Nixon found it “hard to contain [his] enthusiasm or [his] awe.”6 In front of a global television audience of 500 million, he told the astronauts that he was the “luckiest man in the world.” Nixon immediately put the accomplishment into its larger geopolitical context. The White House had already received over a hundred congratulatory messages from foreign heads of state, he told the crew. These messages “represent over two billion people on this earth—all of them who have had the opportunity through television to see what you have done.”
After a little light banter, with Nixon asking the astronauts to a celebratory state dinner in Los Angeles and inquiring whether they got seasick on the moon with all that “bouncing around,” he impulsively exclaimed that “this is the greatest week in the history of the world since the Creation.” “Because as a result of what happened this week,” Nixon continued, “the world is bigger infinitely. And also, as I’m going to find on this trip around the world… as a result of what you’ve done the world’s never been closer together before.” He thanked the astronauts for their role in making the world united. And he noted that “all of us in government, all of us in America… as a result of what you’ve done, we can do our job a little better.”7
The job that Nixon hoped to do “a little better,” in particular, was establish a new Asia policy and ultimately advance the United States’ standing in the world. He and his advisors anticipated that the moon landing would not only lend its sheen to the United States in general, but it could have a targeted strategic impact. Nixon timed a diplomatic tour explicitly to take advantage of the international popularity of the moon landing while it was still ripe. His eight-country trip, aptly named Operation Moonglow, officially sought to demonstrate the administration’s concern for Asia and Eastern Europe, its commitment to finding peace in Vietnam, and “a desire to listen” and connect with the world, with the pretext of “the unifying symbol of the moon voyage.” Nixon would incite the “Spirit of Apollo,” promoting the message that “if mankind can send men to the Moon, then we can bring peace to the Earth.” As one journalist put it, “The way has been paved for him by a deluge of publicity over the feat of Apollo 11.”8
President Richard Nixon speaks to the Apollo 11 crew members while they are still in quarantine, July 24, 1969. (NATIONAL AERONAUTICS AND SPACE ADMINISTRATION)
Moreover, by Nixon’s own admission, Moonglow also provided the “perfect camouflage for National Security Advisor Henry Kissinger’s first secret meeting with the North Vietnamese. It was arranged that Kissinger would go to Paris, ostensibly to brief French officials on the results of my meetings. While there he would meet secretly with [head of North Vietnam’s Paris delegation Xuan] Thuy.”9
Photographs of Nixon speaking with the Apollo 11 crew through the window of the MQF made front-page headlines around the world. Although these photos were most often paired with quotations from Nixon’s welcome message, some journalists considered the impact of the scene—and the moon landing more generally—on his upcoming diplomatic tour. As London’s Daily Telegraph commented, “Certainly his words to his hosts during his subsequent visit to Asia, to Bucharest… will carry that much more weight.” The front page of Vienna’s Wiener Zeitung similarly noted that “President Nixon and his advisors are convinced—and diplomatic observers agree—that the prestige America has gained by the Apollo 11 success will favorably affect the diplomatic outcome of his trip to Southeast Asia and Eastern Europe.” In Japan’s Asahi a correspondent predicted that Asian countries would receive Nixon more warmly because of “the Apollo mood.” An editorial cartoon published in Bombay depicted Nixon in a space suit traveling to planets labeled with the names of the countries on his diplomatic tour.10 A Washington Post column predicted that “as President Nixon sets forth on his world tour, Apollo’s triumph becomes a handy tool with which to ask all that any great nation can expect: not that others love us but that they respect us and, hopefully, that they trust us just a bit more than before.”11
Until the first moon landing, Nixon had difficulty getting any traction on two of his major foreign policy objectives: finding resolution for the war in Vietnam and normalizing relations with China. Operation Moonglow, he hoped, would advance these two objectives. Much like his European tour in March 1969, he planned Operation Moonglow to ride on the coattails of space enthusiasm.
Ni
xon had attempted to contact North Vietnamese leadership throughout the spring of 1969, with the hope of ending the war. In April he composed a one-page document with three points outlining the US position that he had Kissinger share with Soviet ambassador Dobrynin. Although Dobrynin told Kissinger that he would give the document to the North Vietnamese, Washington never received a response. Nixon tried again. On May 14, in a televised speech, he presented a comprehensive peace plan. And again, no response came. In June, during remarks on the White House South Lawn, Nixon explained how the plan he presented in May and the beginning of US troop withdrawal “left the door to peace wide open.” He invited “the leaders of North Vietnam to walk with us through that door,” but still no response came.
In July Nixon tried yet again. But before he did, he had a series of long conversations with Kissinger. They developed an “elaborate orchestration of diplomatic, military, and publicity pressures,” and they set November 1 as a deadline for an agreement to be reached. On July 15, the day before Apollo 11’s launch, Nixon sent a letter to North Vietnamese leader Ho Chi Minh through Jean Sainteny, a retired French diplomat and Kissinger’s acquaintance. On July 16 Sainteny passed the letter to Xuan Thuy. Within days, Nixon received word that the North Vietnamese were interested in arranging a secret meeting between Kissinger and Xuan Thuy. Luckily, Operation Moonglow afforded the perfect opportunity for such a meeting to take place surreptitiously in Paris.12
In parallel, Nixon pursued Sino-American communication and better relations. China had severed ties with the Soviet Union, leading Nixon and Kissinger to see the potential of playing the “China card”: they would use Sino-American relations to put pressure on the Soviet Union. In June the president supported Montana senator and majority leader Mike Mansfield’s request to visit Peking. Chinese premier Zhou Enlai rebuffed the overture, however. Nixon then initiated a relaxation of economic controls on trade with China that summer. But still more had to be done to foster this relationship.13