Wernher von Braun came to America from Germany after World War II as part of Operation Paperclip. He went on to play a major role in the Cold War’s Space Race with his expertise of rockets. However, views of von Braun are being reassessed as the terrible role he played in Nazi Germany has come to the fore in recent years. Victor Gamma looks at the case for and against von Braun below.

Read part 1 on Von Braun’s life here.

Wernher von Braun in civilian clothes, with members of the Nazi military in May 1941 in Peenemunde. Source: Bundesarchiv, Bild 146-1978-Anh.024-03 / CC-BY-SA 3.0, available here.

Wernher von Braun in civilian clothes, with members of the Nazi military in May 1941 in Peenemunde. Source: Bundesarchiv, Bild 146-1978-Anh.024-03 / CC-BY-SA 3.0, available here.

So what shall we think of the man who probably more than any other was responsible for the unforgettable “Giant Leap'' made by Neil Armstrong that famous day in July 1969? Does von Braun deserve to be condemned for the part he played in the war? Was he, as Lehrer indicated, a hypocrite unworthy of admiration? Or was he a visionary, modern-day Columbus who should be providing inspiration for future generations? Let’s look at the record.

Von Braun's links to the Third Reich began early in the 1930s. Even before Hitler attained power, he and other gifted rocketeers captured the attention of the German military. Specifically, Germany at that time was on the lookout for weapons that would not violate the Treaty of Versailles. Artillery Captain Walter Dornberger was impressed with von Braun and chose him to lead Germany’s rocket artillery unit. Shortly after Hitler took power in 1933, all rocket experiments not under the direct control of the German military were banned. Now the only way for the ambitious young von Braun to continue his research was to work for the German Army. Thus sponsored by the new regime, von Braun and his team developed what was essentially a hobby into the modern science of rocketry - a shift that would soon dramatically alter the course of history. The next step was to find the ideal location, isolated and next to lots of space where failed rocket launches could crash. That place was Peenemunde on the Baltic Sea, where the team moved in 1937 with von Braun as technical director and where the rocket work was kept secret. It was here that his reputation was made and the seeds of later controversy were planted. 

If one were to look only at the surface of von Braun’s record during the Hitler years, the results seem a damning, open-and-shut case. He not only joined the Nazi Party before the war, he was involved with the dreaded SS as early as 1933. As a member of the organization, labeled “criminal” at the Nuremberg Trials, he rose to the rank of SS-Sturmbannführer (major). During his service he earned the War merit cross, first class with Swords and then the Knights Cross of the War Merit Cross with Swords. He then proceeded to play an instrumental role in a weapon that was used in indiscriminate rocket attacks on civilian targets, built by enforced labor. The working conditions of the laborers, mostly concentration camp prisoners, were characterized by terrible atrocities. All in all, it looks like a watertight case against the hero of the moon landing. However, as any good detective or historian knows, only looking at surface facts does not tell the whole story. A more thorough investigations reveals that the great engineer had a more complex and ambivalent relationship with the Nazi regime than the above facts indicate. 

 

Reluctant Nazi, Eager Opportunist

Throughout his post-war career, von Braun consistently attempted to downplay his involvement with the labor-camp atrocities and to portray his several encounters with Hitler as unpleasant. In his 1947 army affidavit von Braun was both coy and forthright at the same time. He attempted to diminish his membership and activities in the NSDAP and the SS. Much of this checks out. His early involvement with the SS was as a member of an SS horse-riding school - a quite harmless endeavor. He left the school after one year. He asserted that he was “demanded” to join the National Socialist Party in 1939 (two years later than he actually did). He explained that refusal to do so would have meant the end of his career with rockets, which is true. Therefore he decided to join. His involvement in the party, he maintained, was largely symbolic and did not involve any political activity. In the words of his biographer Neufeld, “... in every case it (joining the party or the SS) appears to be because of external pressure. There isn’t much evidence that he joined voluntarily or shared the racist, anti-Semitic ideology of the party.” As for the SS, von Braun claimed that his membership in the SS came about when he was approached by a colonel Mueller to join. He consulted with his superior and long-time mentor, Major General Dr. Dornberger, who informed him that, once again, a refusal to join would mean the end of his work with rockets. Himmler, always scheming for power, only wanted von Braun to join as a ploy to gain control over the rocket program. The young rocketeer was in no position to refuse. Thus he became SS with the rank of lieutenant. In his own words, “I received a written promotion every year. At the war’s end I had the rank of a “Sturmbannführer” (major). But nobody ever requested me to report to anyone or to do anything with the SS.” He explained that the only occasion he actually used his rank was to help in the evacuation of the rocket program from Peenamunde to a safer location in southern Germany. His account is corroborated by the available facts. There is no evidence that during his time in the SS he did anything more than send in his monthly dues.

 

Political fighting

The record displays abundant evidence that, rather than seeking to advance the Nazi agenda, von Braun's priorities were science, rockets and space exploration. According to Neufeld, “He was not ideologically very interested in Nazi ideas.” In fact, his obsession with space travel instead of defense was just the opportunity needed by Himmler to attempt a take-over of the rocket program. The chaotically administered Third Reich was characterized by constant infighting and struggles for power. SS Chief Himmler had cast his eyes on the prestigious field of war production, including rockets. To gain leverage, Himmler had von Braun and his team under surveillance from October 1943. The young engineer and his colleagues were unenthusiastic enough about the National Socialist agenda to provide Himmler what he needed. The SS compiled a file on him and his colleagues, claiming that they were overheard complaining about the use of rockets as a combat weapon instead of for space exploration and making “defeatist” remarks about the war’s progress. In March 1944, without hearing the charges, von Braun was suddenly imprisoned for two weeks. The accusations involved sabotaging or delaying the effort to develop the rocket as an effective weapon in the war effort. The charges were dropped and von Braun was released after Hitler was persuaded that their prisoner was simply too valuable to lose. His arrest does not prove that von Braun was an active opponent of the Nazi regime. It does help corroborate, however, that he was far from a die-hard follower of Hitler. In fact, after his brief incarceration by the Gestapo, the Third Reich’s Wunderkind grew increasingly alienated from the Nazi regime. Fellow engineer Peter Wegener, who worked with him in the last two years of the war, noticed von Braun changing attitude toward the Third Reich: “von Braun joked in small groups about meetings with government leaders and extended his attitude later to the SS. It became obvious to me that he disliked Hitler and all that Hitler did.”

This incident does not absolve von Braun of war-crimes, but it does corroborates the rocket team leader’s claim that he was not a genuine Nazi but rather simply interested in rockets. His behavior at war’s end is also consistent with this view. Rather than hand his blueprints over to the SS, he ordered them hidden in an abandoned mine. After his surrender he cooperated with American authorities, who rescued 14 tons of V-2 documents. Fellow rocket enthusiast William Ley said of him, “I found no reason to regard von Braun as an outspoken anti-Nazi. But just as little, if not even less, did I find him to be a Nazi. In my opinion the man simply wanted to build rockets, period.” He simply took advantage of any opportunity to promote his vision, even if it meant turning a blind eye to the suffering of others. But he, unlike other war criminals, was never eager to contribute to that suffering or to use rocketry to rain destruction upon mankind. After a visit to a 1939 launch, Albert Speer observed, “For him (von Braun) and his team, this was not the development of a weapon, but a step into the future of technology.”

 

Rockets for the Fatherland

Von Braun’s own politics were typical of the aristocratic, East Prussian class into which he had been born. The engineer shared the hyper-conservative political views of his background. Aristocratic Germans had little use for the vulgar, radical Nazis and viewed them with ridicule. However, as the Nazis restored German stability, prosperity and national pride, the members of this class acknowledged the benefits of the regime and supported it in one way or another, nor were they shy about taking advantage of opportunities offered. This was especially true for von Braun. For him the Nazis offered the only way he could continue pursuing his dream of space travel. This explains his war record as well as his basic sense of patriotic duty, which led him to overlook the moral shortcomings of the regime in order to do his part to help his country. Without diminishing Mr. Salz' suffering, it is simply inaccurate to say that von Braun wanted to “develop a wonder weapon.” After successful launches of the V-2 against Paris and London, von Braun made a short speech to his team: “Let's not forget...that this is only the beginning of a new era, the era of rocket-powered flight. It seems that this is another demonstration of the sad fact that so often important new developments get nowhere until they are first applied as weapons.” As for his work for the “final victory,” although serving a terrible regime, he, like millions of other Germans, saw their service as patriotic duty, not war crimes. As one of von Braun’s colleagues put it: “Most of us were pretty sore about the heavy bombing of Germany-the loss of German civilians, mother, fathers, or relatives. When the first V-2 hit London, we had champagne. And why not? We were at war, and although we weren’t Nazis, we still had a Fatherland to fight for.”

 

What do you think about Wernher von Braun? Let us know below.

Now, read Victor’s series on whether it was right to topple William McKinley’s statue in Arcata, California here.

Wernher von Braun came to America from Germany after World War II as part of Operation Paperclip. He went on to play a major role in the Cold War’s Space Race with his expertise of rockets. However, views of von Braun are being reassessed as the terrible role he played in Nazi Germany has come to the fore in recent years. Victor Gamma explains.

Wernher von Braun, with his arm in a cast, shortly after surrendering to US forces in World War II on May 3, 1945.

Wernher von Braun, with his arm in a cast, shortly after surrendering to US forces in World War II on May 3, 1945.

Icon of a New Age

A visitor to the National Air and Space Museum at the Smithsonian will see on display a slide rule that belonged to famed rocket scientist Wernher von Braun. To those familiar with the heady years of the Space Race, the visit is akin to paying homage to a sacred relic, the tangible remains of the heroic new age that dared venture beyond earth. It would indeed be difficult to overestimate von Braun’s importance during the exciting early years of the Space Age. General Samuel C. Phillips, who directed the NASA Apollo Project, and who should know better than anyone how important von Braun’s role was, stated that the moon landing simply would not have been possible without the German-born rocketeer. Yet controversy has swirled around the gifted engineer almost from the moment he became a public figure. To some he is something of a folk hero; a Cold Warrior who kept the free world one step ahead of the Soviet nemesis and a uniquely gifted engineer who got us to the moon. He is at least partly responsible for a phrase heard almost daily regarding the exaggerated difficulty level of a concept, that the subject at hand “is not rocket science.”  To others he was a war criminal at worst, at best a willing servant of the devil if it would advance his career; an amoral scientist indifferent to human suffering with a cavalier attitude about Nazi atrocities. But historical controversies, like people in general, are rarely so black and white. As we shall see, the answers are not easy to come by.    

The roots of the von Braun debate arose from the ashes of World War II. The Allied nations had known for some time that the Germans had raced far ahead of them in certain technologies, including rocketry. As the victorious side closed in on the Third Reich they naturally wanted to obtain this knowledge for themselves. In a desperate effort to keep ahead of the Soviet Union, the Americans had prepared a special operation to scoop up as much German brainpower and material as possible while it was still available. So successful was the operation, the famous/infamous Operation Paperclip, that within weeks of VE day a large number of highly-skilled German technicians were already laboring in the United States, working with captured V-2 rockets and mountains of rescued blueprints. Having served one of the worst regimes in history, the appropriateness of employing Nazi technicians like von Braun was so questionable that for some time, these engineers, once in the United States, did not officially exist.

 

Space Crusader

For some time the German ‘wonder team’ worked in relative anonymity and under tight security. As wartime emotions subsided, they were given more freedom and attained a measure of acceptance into American society. One member of the team was not content with mere acceptance. Their leader, von Braun, was a man on a mission, like Magellan before him, and would stop at nothing to achieve the ancient dream of space flight. A natural promoter, he understood the need to garner public support for the very expensive goal of space flight. Dreams of landing on the moon had seized the space-obsessed engineer as a child and he was determined to fulfill those dreams. He began to make a name for himself in the early 1950s as a champion of space exploration. His first breakthrough was a series of articles for the popular Collier's Magazine, which appeared in the early 1950s. He next appeared in a 1955 Walt Disney TV series on space exploration in which he explained the intricacies of space travel. The earnest Braun became a teacher to millions of television viewers about the workings of space flight. Much to his delight, the series was a great success. But it was with the launch of Explorer 1 on January 31, 1958 that the transplanted rocket genius truly rose to national prominence. This, America’s first satellite, marked the launch of America’s ‘Space Age’ and the free world’s answer to the Soviet Sputnik. As such, it was a matter of great national pride. Next month the proud ‘missile man’ was featured on the cover of Time magazine. By the following year such comments in published articles could be found such as this appearing in American Scientist, “Dr Wernhner von Braun, whose name is beginning to replace Einstein’s as a household word…”

But along with the glare of publicity came questions about his past. Thus far his employers, the US Army, with no little help from their star missile expert himself, had managed to keep his Nazi past under wraps. Von Braun, especially once he became head of the Marshall Space Flight Center under NASA, had a genuine concern that too much attention to the sordid details of his war-time work under Hitler might damage the prestige of NASA and hinder this Second Great Age of Exploration. But despite his best efforts, a pushback was perhaps inevitable as the public learned more about this intriguing leader of America’s space effort and what lay behind that German accent.  

The compelling von Braun story was soon brought to a popular audience through various media including the big screen. In the 1960 feature I Aim for the Stars the rocketeer, played by Kurt Juergens, is given a largely sympathetic portrayal. This biographical film, which covers the life of von Braun from his early youth up to his work at NASA, is not simply a whitewash, though. A theme throughout the film is the main character’s drive to build space rockets, regardless of the cost. In one scene set during the V-2 launches against London, his apparent indifference to the damage his rockets are causing leads his fiancée to declare, “I love you but you frighten me!”  Secondly, after his surrender to the Americans, there is the intermittent hounding he receives from one of the characters; the vengeful and impassioned U.S. Army major William Taggert. Taggert, who had loved ones killed in London due to V-2 attacks, cannot allow the creator of the “Vengeance Weapon” to go unpunished. He accuses von Braun flat out of war crimes. The charges don’t stick, of course, because the German engineer is far too valuable to American interests. He is hastily recruited by the Army to continue working on rockets on behalf of the United States. Many years of proud accomplishments follow, despite Taggert’s harassment until the end of the film. 

 

From Satire to Scholarship

The von Braun controversy even found its way into popular music culture. In 1965, satirical songwriter Tom Lehrer sang:

Gather 'round while I sing to you of Wernher von Braun

A man whose allegiance

Is ruled by expedience

Call him a Nazi, he won't even frown

"Nazi, Schmazi!" says Wernher von Braun.

 

Don't say that he's hypocritical

Say rather that he's apolitical

"Once the rockets are up, who cares where they come down?

That's not my department!" says Wernher von Braun.

 

The album featuring this track peaked at #18 on the Billboard Top 100 in early 1966. Lehrer went on to say in a 2003 interview: "The idea that Wernher von Braun was a hero didn't make me angry so much as, well, it was just so silly. It was one thing to hire him, OK, but to make him a hero, which a lot of people did ... he may have helped us land on the moon a few years earlier than we did, but who cares?" These voices, though, were but the buzz of an annoying mosquito compared to the general ovation von Braun received. The general public and the grade-school population were given no reason to mistrust America’s leading missile expert. A far-less critical view appeared in the year following Lehrer's album, 1967. A flattering book titled simply Werhner von Braun, part of a school-book biography series on great personalities in history, was published on the rocketeer which compared him to such luminaries as Sir Francis Drake, Columbus, Pizarro, and Da Gama. In this book the precocious rocket engineer is given a ‘clean’ war record. He is depicted as being a distant and reluctant participant of the Hitler regime, more often at odds with it as not. Von Braun and his entire team is described as only focusing on rockets as weapons because they were forced to, when they would much rather have been concentrating on space exploration. Atrocities inflicted on the laborers who built the rockets are absent. This book found its way into Middle and High Schools all over the country. During von Braun’s heyday with NASA and afterwards, honors from a grateful nation continued to be showered on him, which did not end after his premature death in 1977. Posthumous recognition continued, the von Braun name came to adorn civic centers, schools and even a moon crater.

The first serious effort to ‘expose’ von Braun originated in East Germany in the 1960s. This met little acceptance in the West as an obvious attempt to undermine American’s threat to win the Space Race and tarnish the West’s reputation. Indeed, it was only years after von Braun’s death in 1977 that the storm broke and the full story of the links between slave labor and rocket production, as well as von Braun’s relations to it, surfaced. In the 1980s the Justice Department began to investigate the past careers of many German technicians who had worked on the space program. By the 1990s, with the patriotic fervor of the Space Race and the Cold War fading, a reassessment of the rocket genius gathered force. One fruit of this new scholarship was the work of premier von Braun scholar Michael J. Neufeld’s 2007 book, Wernher von Braun, Dreamer of Space, Engineer of War. Neufeld’s portrait cast the hero of the Moon landing in a more balanced light with an honest assessment, giving credit where due but also leveling criticism where deserved. By that time the flood tide of revisionism had led to such comments as this: “Now the question is whether NASA — as well as the Smithsonian Institution, which sponsors an annual von Braun lecture — should continue to perpetuate the myth that Wernher was in effect a jolly fellow, well met, who was interested only in his singular dedication and contribution to space flight, politics be damned. Or should they act responsibly, bite the bullet, revise von Braun's biography, rename the lecture and concede that the pioneering space flight genius committed monstrous sins?” Such thinking had led at least one school in Germany named after the famed leader of the Apollo Project to change its name.

 

Voices of Protest

David Salz, survivor of both Auschwitz and Mittelbau-Dora concentration camps, traveled to Friedberg, Germany in 2012 to persuade the Gymnasium to “do all we can to make his name disappear from the school.” Mr. Salz shared a horrific account of the suffering endured by those at the camp. “A word from Braun would have been enough to improve the conditions,” claimed Salz. “What he did was not human, he wanted to build the miracle weapon for the final victory.” Despite reducing some of his audience to tears, the school board narrowly decided to keep the name - until 2014 - with the condition that “a differentiated discussion” take place regarding the eponymous rocket pioneer. The Bavarian Ministry of Culture stated: “Although he served the inhuman war aims of the Third Reich,” he was also “an outstanding scientist” who worked in the USA and helped to realize the dream of landing on the moon.” Not content with this set back, those determined to change the name resorted to political pressure. After further votes and discussion from stakeholders, “In order to avert damage to the school and district” as seen in the “incomprehension and injury” among victims of the Nazis, the Wernher von Braun Gymnasium in Friedburg, named after the rocket pioneer in 1979, reverted back to its original name, Staatliches Gymnasium Friedberg in 2014. 

There were even some residents of Huntsville, Alabama, the headquarters of the Marshall Space Flight Center and von Braun’s home for many years, who felt compelled to speak on the matter. Normally Alabamians swell with pride at their famous former resident, but some do not share the feeling: "I think it is shameful that a man who created powerful bombs for the Nazis which were used to kill innocent civilians is idolized in our small Alabama town. Certainly he was a brilliant man who totally changed the trajectory of the American space industry. But, when we as a society choose to focus solely on the good things he achieved we do a disservice to the enslaved Jews who built the rockets he designed, and the innocent men, women and children of England who felt the wrath of those weapons," said one.

 

Now, read part 2 on the evidence on whether von Braun was a dangerous Nazi here.

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AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones
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Fifty years after Apollo 11 landed astronauts on the moon, what is the enduring legacy of humanity’s ventures beyond the Earth?  As explained by Harlan Lebo, author of 100 Days: How Four Events in 1969 Shaped America (Amazon USAmazon UK), the answer is much broader and deeper than President Kennedy’s original vision for achievement in space.

Buzz Aldrin salutes the US flag during Apollo 11, on July 20, 1969.

Buzz Aldrin salutes the US flag during Apollo 11, on July 20, 1969.

On a warm summer night in 1961, two months after President John Kennedy declared a mission to the moon as a national goal, presidential advisor Theodore Sorensen sat on the front steps of his home in Washington, staring up at the heavens, and wondered about the wisdom of creating a program to send humans into outer space.

“Was it really possible,” Sorensen remembered thinking, “or was it all crazy?” 

Crazy or not, eight years later the goal was realized with the journey of Apollo 11 in July 1969 – five months before Kennedy’s deadline of reaching the moon “before the decade is out.”

While the specific goal of reaching the moon was achieved, Kennedy’s broader intention – to demonstrate to the world America’s supremacy in technology and national will – was also more than satisfied.  And if the United States not been engaged at the same time in a hopeless, endless war in Vietnam, the benefits to the nation might have been even more pronounced.

 

Looking back at a deeper legacy

Now, 50 years later, we can look back and ask, did Apollo spawn a lasting legacy?  The most obvious answer is yes – the US reached the moon, and with that achievement firmly established the United States as the pre-eminent leader in science and engineering of the 20thcentury.  

Thanks to Apollo, America still supports a vigorous space program – even without a current schedule of manned missions – that engages both the public and private sectors.  And we can, of course, itemize the direct benefits of our efforts in space with a tally of specific products as diverse as fire prevention fabric, improved solar cells, freeze-dried food, and medical monitoring, among hundreds of others.

But beyond those individual achievements, the enduring advances are less tangible, yet even more profound.  

 

The jolt of inspiration

The greatest value of Apollo to the American experience emerged from the sudden, abrupt focus of technological inspiration required to create the lunar mission – the largest financial outlay ever made by a peacetime nation.  

While one can point to the growing needs of national defense in the cold war as a catalyst for economic growth, it was the research and development across the spectrum of science required for the Apollo Program, compressed from decades into a few years in the 1960s, that acted at a breakneck speed as a formidable accelerator in advancing the nation.  The jolt supplied by the manned space program produced a trail of benefits – not only for the results achieved in space, but for the technical possibilities that the mission illuminated.  

Transcending individual inventions and products, Apollo stimulated the broad expansion of advances over a wide range of industries and fields – including many enlightened enterprises that are both profitable and progressive, such as organizations involved in precision medical equipment or alternative energy sources. 

For example, the process of creating the Apollo Guidance Computer, with its razor-thin margin of capabilities needed to support the moon missions, became a high-profile inspiration within the computer industry to create new generations of components that were more powerful, smaller, and cheaper.  

The country’s growing needs for digital technology in space programs created a thriving market – and competition – in the creation of semiconductors and related hardware for the computing industry. U.S. government projects – primarily defense and space – were the world’s largest purchasers of semiconductors – accounting for almost 70 percent of all sales – spurring production and shrinking prices. In 1962, the average price of a computer chip was $50; by 1973, the price had fallen to 63 cents. 

Beyond just shrinking the costs of technology, Apollo proved to be a powerful catalyst for the digital realm long after the missions were over – with important links to the growth of Silicon Valley and other tech crucibles. The path was clear for the development of new types of computers that did not yet exist, including computers created for individuals. Soon to come were the first personal computers in the 1970s and 1980s; the internet was not far behind. 

 

New leaders, new progress

This progress was possible largely because of growth in technological leadership – a new generation that rose in American business, science, and engineering thanks to the flourishing of the space program.

“Many people point to guys working in their garages in the Silicon Valley as the starting point for the technology industries of the 1980s,” said space historian Roger Launius. “But much of the innovation of that era had already come from scientists and engineers trained to work in the space program; after Apollo, these people dispersed and went everywhere – to companies, to universities, to think tanks – taking with them the knowledge they had gained from working on the space program. 

“We saw a blossoming of technology in the 1970s,” said Launius, “that was in no small part the result of the base of knowledge that built up during the space program, and that was pushed by Apollo.”

The Apollo 11 landing on the Moon was the most important peacetime achievement of the 20thcentury.   But even more important is the broad range of change inspired by Apollo that continues to touch the American experience.

 

Harlan Lebo’s book, 100 Days: How Four Events in 1969 Shaped America, is available here: Amazon USAmazon UK

The space race was one of the key battlegrounds during the Cold War. And as the space race became ever more important during the 1950s and 1960s, chimps became a key part of the US space program. Andrew Walls explains.

Ham the chimp, prior to his test flight in January 1961.

Ham the chimp, prior to his test flight in January 1961.

The era of the spacefaring chimp

The era of the rocket monkeys was a confusing one. Both for the chimps themselves and for those working towards the eventual moon landing. The Cold War was in full swing and the American and Soviet space programs were battling for ideological supremacy. The Soviets had just sent two dogs, Belka and Strelka, up into the Earth’s orbit and had touched them down safely.

The American public wanted a similar milestone for the American space program. So when Ham touched down in the Mercury capsule the public treated him not like a research animal and more like a “short, hairy astronaut”. Gifts and flowers began arriving for Ham. People wanted his autograph. He was one of those golden age American heroes that made people weep with pride.

This didn’t thrill Alan Shepard, who was to go up following Ham’s safe return to prove its safety for humans. Neither really piloted the craft. They both just sat there and let the guys on the ground prove the flights were safe. Alan Shepard in short wasn’t thrilled with this monkey stealing his thunder and reasonably chose not to attend the furry American hero’s funeral some years later.

 

Space Chimps Made In America

Albert was the first chimponaut to be launched into space. The term launched is right because they strapped him to a V-2 rocket and let him suffocate during the flight. Albert ll, his successor, was killed when the V-2 rocket he was strapped to had a parachute failure. During this suicidal flight Albert ll became the first monkey in space after passing the Karman line of 100km above sea level. In fact the first Albert to survive the landing was Albert Vl, who along with his 11 mouse crewmates touched down safely. However, once they touched down, the monkeys weren’t finished yet.

Next came the battery of medical tests which ascertained what impacts, if any, weightlessness and other phenomena of space travel had on them. They wisely stopped numbering the chimps and just started giving them nicknames. So “Baker” was the first chimp to survive both the flight and the post flight operations. At the age of 27, Baker was buried on the grounds of the United States Space & Rocket Center. Ham, our American hero and Enos, his successor, were the two most well-known astrochimps but there were many others who lived and died with little fanfare.

Ham the chimp is welcomed back with a 'handshake' after his January 1961 flight on the Mercury Redstone rocket.

Ham the chimp is welcomed back with a 'handshake' after his January 1961 flight on the Mercury Redstone rocket.

Furious George

Beyond the States, Russia, France, Argentina and Iran have all launched their own chimps - most of whom also perished during their flights. Astronauts dying mid-flight has always been horrendous for space programs. The Columbia and Challenger disasters crippled the American space program. So for riskier flights, especially during the initial testing phases, it made sense to send a chimp who will garner far less media attention in the event of a malfunction. Chimps are very similar to humans biologically and it is reasonable to assume that any effects they experience from space flight could also be experienced by a human.

What most people don’t realize is scientists of the time had no idea of what to expect from people in space. No person had ever been that far from the ground before. It just hadn’t been possible. We know now that people are fine in space with the appropriate precautions being taken. At the time, however, they were just guessing. Would lessened gravity distort people’s eyeballs and blind them? Maybe the change in weight of body parts would restrict movement, leaving the pilot unable to control the ship at altitude. Would the space radiation kill people before they could safely land? NASA, the Soviet space program and the rest of the world had absolutely no clue. So they sent up chimps and hoped for the best.

 

Monkey Business

The use of chimps in aerospace was an unfortunate necessity of the time. A space program that had as many astronauts die as chimps did would have been cancelled and condemned very quickly. Chimps were a necessary sacrifice in the vital quest for information. But I want to finish this story with a happy ending. One about what happened to the chimps after the space programs no longer needed them. This story reinforces where using chimps or any surrogates as research tools can go wrong when the agency using them doesn’t respect them as intelligent organisms.

In the 1970s the Air Force decided it no longer needed its chimp colony. The space race was finished; they had all the information launching chimps could give them. So they began leasing them to medical facilities in New York and New Mexico State. That lasted for a while.

 

Gorilla Warfare

Then in 1997 they decided to officially “retire” them forever. Luckily that didn’t mean putting them to sleep. The Air Force would instead sell the chimps on the open market. In a mock “bidding” process, they only considered one bid, which came from The Coulston Foundation. This foundation had a horrendous track record of animal cruelty and had once had 300 chimps seized because of negligent care. Important people asked that instead these chimps go to a sanctuary.

They still had memories of Ham and other chimp sacrifices in the Space Race and wanted these chimps to be treated with some respect and dignity. Here’s where Dr. Carole Noon comes in. With the backing of Dr. Jane Goodall and Dr. Roger Fouts, Noon fought hard for the chimps to be moved to a sanctuary. The Air Force, in what they must have thought was a “show of good faith”, awarded 30 chimps to Dr. Noon and the rest to The Coulston Foundation. Dr. Noon was less than pleased. She raised the funds herself and built a sanctuary in Florida. After a year-long court battle she finally won custody of the remaining 21 chimps and moved them to her sanctuary. Today she operates the Save the Chimp foundation which is where these chimps are living out their days peacefully and without testing.

 

Chimpy Meadows

A life of rest and peace is a fitting end for the descendants of the monkeys who helped us reach space. But the fact that the Air Force was going to condemn them to an abusive testing facility reaffirms the lack of respect they have for these animals’ intelligence and their contribution to the space program. Moving forward it would serve any agency using animals for testing to consider the following: Will this test give us information that could not be obtained otherwise? Can we use people instead without putting those people through some significant risk? And in the event they do decide animals are necessary: Are we treating these animals with respect and dignity both during the testing process and afterwards?

Thank you astro-chimps the world over for your sacrifices. You may not realize it, but you’ve helped to start something which could change humanity’s destiny forever.

 

For more of Andrew Walls’ writing visit his space and entrepreneurship blog: Landing Attempts.

Out of respect for the chimps discussed in this article, Landing Attempts has made a donation to the Save The Chimps Foundation founded by Dr. Noon. Save the Chimps works to reclaim and house chimps affected by biomedical testing facilities. They deserve our support and respect.

Sources

Roach, Mary. Packing for Mars. http://www.maryroach.net/packing-for-mars.html

Cassidy, David and Davy Kristin. Space Chimps. http://www.spacechimps.com/theirstory.html

Wall, Mike. Scientific American. https://www.scientificamerican.com/article/monkeys-in-space-a-brief-spaceflight-history/

Posted
AuthorGeorge Levrier-Jones