An Apollo Program For Agriculture
A Proposed Mission for Food, Nature, and Rural America
“There are two spiritual dangers in not owning a farm. One is the danger of supposing that breakfast comes from the grocery, and the other that heat comes from the furnace.” ~Aldo Leopold, A Sand County Almanac
A foggy sunrise over a California rice field - it is sweet and full of satisfaction. Perhaps especially so in the winter, when these areas are absolutely loaded down with all manner of birds. There are some prominent rice fields in the Yolo Bypass near downtown Sacramento, right along I-80. Many folks drive by these fields every day, but don't know the bigger story. Some know these are rice fields, fewer that all the sushi rice in the U.S. comes from this area. But an even smaller fraction still know of the ecological success story of winter rice flooding. It turns out that paying rice growers to manage their lands for the environment in the winter (when they are not producing rice) almost single-handedly arrested the decline of birds along the Pacific flyway (Eadie and Karp 2025). Just one simple change. That interesting story is worthy of its own long-form post. However, the essence of that success is what I want to extract and linger on this essay.
Because agriculture is about more than farms now, it is about managing our lands for food, biodiversity, and human communities - all at the same time.
In the United States, agriculture (or ‘ag’) policy can be quite narrowly framed. And for various reasons, it remains opaque and difficult for the public to understand. Yet agriculture influences almost every corner of the American landscape. Roughly 40% of our land area is occupied by farms. That network governs the condition of our soils, rivers, aquifers, wetlands, pollinator communities, fisheries, and wildlife populations. It affects whether rural communities persist or hollow out, what is passed down across generations, whether reservoirs fill with sediment, if coastal dead zones expand, and the safety and security of our food supply. Few human activities exert more influence over the health and resilience of the nation.
My experience suggests many environmentalists think it is a bit silly to consider agricultural lands as ecosystems themselves, or even as key sources of ecological activity. They might say something like - we should just have real ecosystems. That logic, while perhaps true in an idealistic way, misses the essential reality. There are currently 8.3B people on the planet. People need to eat safe and healthy food. Consider the alternative in the California rice example. What is better for the biodiversity of that region: winter-flooded rice fields that mimic the historical wetlands of that region and help the birds (also bugs, bats, fishes, snakes and more)? Or chopped up suburban lands? Or massive nut tree orchards, which offer no surrogate wetland benefits?
We must have farms, but the decisions we make with those lands are up to us, and can affect more than we realize.
It is important to remember that modern agricultural did not emerge accidentally. It was built in direct response to real pressures: feeding rapidly growing populations, reducing famine risk, lowering food costs, and increasing productivity with less labor.
Yet modern agriculture now sits at the center of a profound and gnarly paradox. Over the past century, intensification dramatically increased food production, helping feed a growing global population. Look at the figure below showing gains (~240%) in cereal production in the U.S. 1961-present using less land now than in the past. That intensification results in reduced pressure to convert existing areas of forests, wetlands, and grasslands into farmland (bottom figure). Put more plainly, if we wanted to produce today’s food supply using 1961 technology, we would need to convert into farms a land mass the size of the U.S. and India, combined. Those are a lot of ecosystems spared through intensification of other places. Yet these productivity gains often came through heavy reliance on fertilizers, pesticides, herbicides, irrigation, and highly simplified monoculture systems. In this sense, the same system that harms nature and our health locally, may also be protecting nature and nutrition globally - by preventing massive land conversion and food shortages.
Therefore, the new challenge is not to abandon the productive systems built during the 20th century, but to evolve and reinvent them for a new century and for new constraints. For example - how can we maintain high productivity while dramatically reducing ecological and human health costs?
Our country’s rural communities are also in major trouble. Consider the following statistics. The number of U.S. farms fell from 6.8M in 1935 to about 1.9M today, even though the total U.S. population grew by 170% during that same period. On the ground, that trend looks like this: average farm size (e.g., acres farmed) steadily increased, and production became more and more consolidated. During 2010-2020, rural America experienced its first decade-long population decline in modern history, with more than two-thirds of rural counties losing population. Some communities are increasingly battling contaminated surface and groundwater resources, mostly from the intensified ag practices. The farming population is rapidly aging; >63% of U.S. agricultural producers are now age 55 or older. Small-to-middle sized farms are vanishing fast under the pressure of consolidation, debt, volatile markets, and rising input costs. These trends are brutal on small town America. In many regions, they contribute to school closures, sickness, hospital losses, declining utilities (e.g., water and sewer service), stagnant or declining home values, shrinking and shuttered main streets, labor shortages, and the erosion of the social fabric that once supported stable communities and a sense-of-place.
Ag is also increasingly politicized and weaponized. Divisions over seemingly every issue intersects now with the ways we produce food. At the same time, ongoing farm consolidation is only growing the cultural divide and mistrust between urban and rural America. That bifurcation is showing up in elections. According to Pew Research, Republicans held only a narrow advantage among rural voters in 2000 (51% Republican-leaning vs. 45% Democratic-leaning). Most recently, Republicans held a 25-point advantage among rural voters.
So, American agriculture is at a turning point. The agricultural systems that delivered extraordinary productivity during the 20th century are now encountering a new set of socioecological realities: depleted aquifers (especially in the western US), globalization, soil erosion, persistence and potential regulation of herbicides and pesticides, biodiversity loss, climate instability, rising and steep input costs, and major cultural shifts. Taken together, these factors can lead prospective young farmers to question whether any of this is actually worth it. Or for current farmers to consider if it's time to just “cash out”, especially in areas where land values are high (e.g., the suburban-rural interface). At the same time, advances in biology, data science, automation, and ecological understanding are opening entirely new possibilities for future food systems.
In summary, there is great peril and potential ahead for farming.
As a leader at a land grant institution, I worry constantly whether we are doing enough to help our producers and rural communities adapt during this era of uncertainty and exponential change. I worry if we are being long-sighted enough about promoting a bright and sustainable future for agriculture, ecosystems and people. And I want badly for land grant universities to be a bridging and healing force in these challenging times.
Because the question is no longer if agriculture will change, but whether we can successfully guide that transition to improve peoples’ lives and our planet.
"As a society, we depend on agriculture for our whole existence.” ~Steven D. Allison
The Apollo Blueprint
The Apollo space program emerged in the U.S. during one of the most tense and competitive periods of the Cold War. During the late 1950s and early 1960s, the Soviet Union stunned the world with a series of spaceflight achievements, most notably Sputnik - the first satellite launched into space. Then again later by sending Yuri Gagarin into orbit as the first human in space. The U.S. political reaction to these revelations was an intensified mix of national anxiety, embarrassment, and political effort to blame opposition parties. Yet it also stoked a growing sense of unease within the public that technological leadership, national prestige, and even geopolitical power were on-the-line, and tied to scientific capability. They were correct.
President John F. Kennedy addressed Congress in 1961 and proposed an audacious national goal: landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to Earth before the end of the decade. At the time, the objective sounded absurd, and was met with rampant skepticism. Many of the required technologies did not yet exist, and the United States only recently succeeded in sending astronauts into space at all.
Bold move. Yet what followed was one of the largest scientific and engineering efforts in human history. JFK’s aggressive vision mobilized scientists, engineers, universities, industry, and enormous public investment around that singular national goal. The Apollo program coalesced hundreds of thousands of scientists, engineers, technicians, universities, contractors, and government agencies in pursuit of the goal. Massive investments flowed into rocketry, materials science, computing, telecommunications, and systems engineering. Whole regions of the country became linked to the space effort, and the program accelerated innovations that later spilled into civilian life (e.g., satellite communications, cordless tools, water purification, medical sensors, memory foam, freeze-dried foods). This last week, I saw a pack of ‘moon cheese' available at the local coffee shop - obviously, this is important stuff!
“Art is I; science is we.” ~Claude Bernard
I enjoyed reading this history of the Apollo program, written in the early 1980s, not long after the Apollo program concluded. There is insightful information on the ongoing struggle to coordinate the colossal effort. The evolution of organizational (org) charts in Chapter 3 is fascinating to look at. The first few org charts were super complex; potentially even disorganized. However, they quickly evolved towards mission and practicality. I pasted the final org chart before the moon landing below. What stands out in that version is how broad, but still mission-centric everything became. The final structure emphasized operational capability over bureaucracy, with major engineering centers, universities, industry partnerships, research labs, and technology transfer systems all tightly woven into one laser-focused national effort. Rather than silo-ing science, the Apollo program fused it into all aspects of the innovation incubator. They embraced systems thinking, and used science as the real engine of the mission. Look at some of the varied functions involved in the effort: the National Academies and ‘consultants’ operated on one of the highest levels. In addition, the Office of University Affairs, Office of Industry Affairs, Office of Technology Utilization, Office of Tracking and Data Acquisition, and the operation of Legislative Affairs and Interagency Affairs all worked at mid-to-high org levels. At the bottom, was actually the JFK Space Center in Florida. Everything important was stitched together in a cohesive package that funneled towards the goal.
Then, in July 1969, Apollo 11 successfully landed astronauts Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin on the lunar surface. It must've been an amazing feeling to grow up in this era and watch or hear that live! And it posthumously fulfilled Kennedy’s formal vision articulated years earlier. This was undoubtedly one of the major scientific achievements of the last century, but it demonstrated something that is not discussed enough. Societies are fully capable of extraordinary coordination and innovation, when they treat a challenge as an urgent priority. The Apollo program lasted 11 years, cost $300-320B (in 2026 dollars), and made it clear as Lake Tahoe, that the U.S. would invest heavily in dominating the technology and science sectors.
Proposal
Today, we face another challenge - one much closer to home, and more existential. The biosystems that feed civilization and support life on Earth are exceeding their safe operating space. The pastoral lands that once supported healthy American families are sick. In turn, there is growing recognition that some of our food is making us sick.
These are serious and existential problems, and they require serious thinkers and leaders.
The Apollo program succeeded because leadership pursued a crystallized goal (land a human on the moon and return them safely home). Then everything was aligned in pursuit of that objective. The effort was backed by enormous and sustained public investment, and mobilized talent across systems of government, universities, and private industry. The mission operated with true urgency, driven by Cold War competition and national prestige. And finally, it embraced the concept of long-term innovation and risk.
I propose a parallel program for agriculture in the US. The goal is also simple:
Goal: Build an agricultural system that can feed the nation indefinitely, but without degrading the living systems upon which it depends.
Such a program requires treating agriculture as strategic national infrastructure. One worthy of major long-term public investment. Just as the Apollo program mobilized the many around its vision - a parallel effort for agriculture would unite farmers, scientists, environmental leaders, private industry, ecologists, engineers, and entrepreneurs around resilient food systems.
Like the Apollo program, such an effort must marshal sufficient resources across the public and private sectors. The U.S. already possesses many of the world’s leading agricultural institutions and scientific capabilities in agriculture. If another country wanted to recreate our sectorial capacity from scratch, they probably couldn't do it. This is probably one of the big reasons other countries haven’t done this yet. Therefore, what is largely missing is long-term coordination and sustained commitment.
An Apollo program for agriculture must operate with genuine urgency. The U.S. faces serious and growing competition in biotechnology, artificial intelligence, advanced manufacturing, and agricultural production from nations such as China. Global food systems are becoming fragile and geopolitically important, as seen through fertilizer disruptions, supply chain shocks, fisheries and wildlife declines, and competition for water resources and arable land. Further, if our food is shortening lifespans - this means that people’s lives are on the line too, including our most talented American minds. It's unclear how much time we have left to fix things. In the coming decades, the nations best able to sustain productive, safe and resilient agricultural systems may hold enormous economic and strategic advantages.
Risking Failure (Some is Unavoidable)
The Apollo program came remarkably close to the failure point multiple times. Indeed, a major aspect of its legacy is that it succeeded despite all the setbacks, tragedy and uncertainty. Here are just a few examples:
The 1967 Apollo 1 disaster (fire during a launch rehearsal) killed astronauts Gus Grissom, Ed White, and Roger Chaffee. The tragedy exposed major design and management flaws, and for a period, threatened the entire program.
The Saturn V rocket was hugely risky. Early launches experienced severe vibration problems, engine shutdowns, and guidance issues. A catastrophic failure during a crewed launch would have probably ended public and political support.
The lunar landing was not guaranteed. During the Apollo 11 Moon Landing, onboard alarms triggered repeatedly during descent, fuel reserves ran dangerously low, and Neil Armstrong had to manually guide the craft away from hazardous terrain with just seconds of fuel remaining.
Apollo 13 is infamous. An oxygen tank exploded en route to the moon in 1970, crippling the spacecraft. NASA engineers and astronauts improvised survival strategies in real time, narrowly bringing the crew home alive. The 1995 rendition starring Tom Hanks is still one of my favorite films.
Political failure was omnipresent. Apollo depended on sustained public funding and political will. Cost overruns, the Vietnam War and associated spending, shifting public opinion, and skepticism within Congress repeatedly endangered support.
An Apollo Program for agriculture would also carry enormous risks. Large-scale interventions in living systems often produce unintended consequences or ‘surprises’ (Lindenmayer et al. 2010). But the greater risk may simply be in our continued directionless drift; agricultural systems increasingly strained and lacking any coherent long-term vision.
Not a “Manhattan Project”
The Apollo program is a better blueprint for a national agricultural moonshot than the Manhattan Project. I would argue this is because Apollo was a massive public innovation system, and not a secret wartime weapons program. This doesn't mean Manhattan has no lessons to offer. It was a successful national project too, and a deeper dive into some of their methods might also be helpful. Yet Manhattan’s breakthroughs occurred behind guarded/locked doors and cloistered researchers, only to be revealed later. Apollo required long-term coordination among the many to solve an extraordinarily complex civilian challenge. It occurred (mostly) in plain sight. Agriculture, likewise, depends on broad societal participation and sustained public trust.
New Ways of Thinking
Interestingly, our language itself is beginning to reflect shifting cultural priorities. Mentions of terms like “biodiversity,” “healthy food,” and “sustainable farming” have surged in books over recent decades. This pattern suggests a society increasingly concerned with our food systems, health, and environmental outcomes, yet also increasingly disconnected from agriculture as a lived experience.
For too long agriculture and ecology have been viewed as separate, possibly even antithetical pursuits. This must stop, and in my opinion is one of the reasons for the pickle we’re in. Agriculture and ecology cannot ignore one another, ‘tap out’, and hope everything turns out peachy. An Apollo program for agriculture can pursue unification of our food production and ecological knowledge systems. As a result, it would draw heavily from concepts known as ‘reconciliation ecology’ (Rosenzweig 2003). That is, ways of encouraging biodiversity and ecological function inside of human-dominated landscapes. It is about optimizing human and environmental needs. These concepts are vital because they explicitly recognize two important truths:
1) We can't go back in time to the way it was before, not at scale; and
2) Humans are currently in charge.
These truths can be a bitter pill for some to swallow, but they are also unavoidable hard boundaries of the Anthropocene. Being realistic and working towards practices that have a softer footprint on the land is the grand challenge of hosting 10B people on the planet in the coming years, while also trying to save our constantly shrinking biodiversity.
Indigenous cultures around the world also developed sophisticated systems for managing landscapes long before modern science existed. In many cases, these practices reflect deep observational wisdom accumulated over centuries-to-millennia. Of course, Indigenous knowledge systems were not designed for a planet of 10 B people. Yet that does not diminish their innate value. If anything, the Anthropocene increases the importance of these knowledge systems as long-term relationships in spirituality and sense-of-place. Consider the following passage from White (2017):
“Anishinaabek/Neshnabék throughout the Great Lakes region are at the forefront of native species conservation and ecological restoration projects that seek to learn from, adapt, and put into practice local human and nonhuman relationships and stories at the convergence of deep Anishinaabe history and the disruptiveness of industrial settler campaigns. These projects also seek to find ways to reconcile-as much as makes sense-with settler societies so that indigenous and settler conservation can share responsibilities and hold each other accountable.”
My experience with these kinds of work suggests there is much to be gained by testing the ‘hypothesis of disproportionate benefits’. That is, without going back in time, are there actions we can take that have disproportionate benefits? If we do certain things in the right place, at the right time - what might be gained in the net? And can we have it all? I’ve seen these kinds of actions work successfully in a number of contexts now. Here is a short sample:
Prairie Strips, IA: Just a small amount of land managed as natural prairie within row-crop farms drastically reduces soil erosion, and nutrient runoff. Yet it simultaneously doubles as habitat for plants, bees, insects, birds, and other wildlife (Schulte et al. 2017).
Putah Creek, CA: California is a water scarce state. Here, a small amount of water (5%) was provisioned back to the stream for fishes and to keep the stream from drying up. This action completely shifted the fish community from one dominated by non-natives to one dominated by natives (Jacinto et al. 2003). Chinook salmon eventually also returned to the stream after being extirpated many years before (Hitt et al. 2025). There was no apparent impact on local ag.
Cover Crops, IN: Crops planted in the winter can improve soil health, while also reducing nutrient leaching that would otherwise occur during the fallow period. In a 3,000 acre watershed in Kosciusko County Indiana, researchers saw a 30% decline in nitrate, and 50% decline in dissolved reactive phosphorus. In a different published study, the reduction in nitrate-N was estimated at >50%, and magnitude of reduction directly correlated to biomass of the cover crops (Christopher et al. 2021).
Silvopastures, MN: Silvopasture is an agroforestry system that intentionally integrates trees, forage, and grazing livestock onto the same parcels of land. These practices carry broad environmental benefits, including carbon storage, improved water quality, reduced erosion, and enhanced biodiversity.
Oyster farming, FL, AL, MS, LA, TX: Oyster aquaculture is increasingly being viewed as a system for both food production AND ecological restoration. Oysters are natural filter feeders and they promote water clarity by removing excess nutrients and suspended particles. Oyster reefs, developed with discarded shells (many from farmed oysters), create habitat for other marine life. It is another excellent example of farming supporting coastal economies and ecology, simultaneously.
Rice fields, CA: California rice fields mimic the wetland conditions of the historical Central Valley. In this way, they support wild populations of birds, native fishes like Chinook salmon, herpetofauna, and even insects and bats. These may not look exactly like the tule marshes of old, but they clearly help wildlife.
Earlier this year, I wrote about how the coming century would be one of “convergence science” (another good resource on this topic is this paper). The original Apollo program is actually an excellent example of convergence science - they just didn’t have the term back then. An Apollo program for agriculture would therefore also be a manifestation of modern convergence science. It is truly important that we understand the need to increasingly work in these kinds of multidisciplinary coordinated ways.
Mosaic Solutions
There is no single technology, policy, or innovation that will solve the entire future of agriculture on its own. Instead, a mosaic of options is needed. Achieving that mosaic necessitates a kind of new multidisciplinary understanding. We already possess many parts of the solution: an ongoing energy transition, healthier and less wasteful food systems, precision technologies, regenerative and sustainable farming practices, and conservation strategies that protect biodiversity while maintaining commodity productivity. Some of these approaches are already proven and carry substantial economic and social benefits. The challenge is upscaling and integrating it all. Coordinating these efforts into a coherent system will require major scientific investment and bold leadership at a scale not seen in generations.
Some of you might wonder: if the need for more resilient agricultural is so apparent, why has progress been so difficult? Part of the answer is structural, and part cultural. Modern agriculture was largely designed to maximize production, not simultaneously optimize biodiversity, rural prosperity, and public health. Those realities are then further reinforced by the growing cultural and political separation between agricultural and environmental communities.
In the end, none of these transitions will be simple, inexpensive, or free of tradeoffs. And some of the among-group tensions will likely never fully disappear.
Role of the Farm Bill
Interestingly, while researching these topics, I learned that the goals of the original U.S. Farm Bill are similar to those of this essay. The following quote from this essay was especially insightful:
The original intent of the Farm Bill, Imhoff said, was to incentivize farmers to protect and preserve wild habitat so that ecosystems could stabilize and recover, and this was going to be achieved by discouraging the bad farming practices that contributed to the Dust Bowl and by preserving natural resources. The other critical goal of the bill was to feed the burgeoning population of hungry Americans.
Therefore, the U.S. Farm Bill clearly plays an undergirding role in driving sustainable agricultural policy. The U.S. Farm Bill could serve as a central policy and funding engine for an agricultural Apollo program, much like how federal appropriations powered the Apollo program. Thus, rather than functioning as a periodic collection point for various commodity and nutrition programs, portions of the Farm Bill could be reimagined to fit the original intent of the legislation.
Because the Farm Bill already links together many key players (e.g., universities, Cooperative Extension via the Smith-Lever Act of 1914, producers, conservation programs, federal agencies, and private industry), it represents one of the few legislative instruments already capable of coordinating national agricultural policy.
United We Stand, Divided We Fall
We live in sadly polarized times, and there is no easy way out of the bind. However, understanding and acknowledging the ways in which polarization cripples us is an important step towards change. I wrote about one version of this in a previous post - birders vs duck hunters. However, we see yet another version of this phenomenon in the rural versus urban divide.
The polarized perspectives around agriculture are particularly counterproductive. Humans (regardless of where you live) need food. Urban areas lack the land area to produce the amount of food needed to support their populations. And rural producers need all those people to buy their food in order to make a decent living. There is a grand bargain to be had in this paradox. And perhaps it could begin with an Apollo program for agriculture.
“Eating is an agricultural act.” ~Wendell Berry
It is notable that Apollo succeeded because it operated during a rare period of bipartisan consensus around science, industrial capability, national prestige, and competition with the Soviet Union. Both major parties generally agreed that technological leadership was strategically important, even if they disagreed on some of the details.
Conclusion
The goal of this essay is not to present a fully formed program or budget, but to show that another road exists. That path uses science, innovation, our desire to leave behind a better world - and yes - even our differences as strengths rather than wedges to be weaponized against one another. It might not be the dream vision of the extreme wings of the ‘two Americas’, but I believe it is the right vision.
We can still do big things, if we want to.
I am sure there are doubters. Those convinced we are too divided to attempt anything ambitious at a national scale again. But necessity is always the mother of innovation. How much longer can we inhabit this planet if we cannot figure out how to feed ourselves sustainably without degrading biodiversity, ecosystems, and ourselves? Is that really the inheritance we want for our children?
The early morning Tule fog over California rice fields can be remarkably thick. A heavy blanket that obscures nearly everything - even your thoughts. At times, you can barely see a short distance ahead, and the landscape feels disorienting, borderline claustrophobic. But as the morning wears on, the sun burns the fog away, revealing an extraordinary panorama of farmland, wetlands, birds, and people. We are not alone in the landscape after all.
Food, agriculture, and nature are binding forces for all of us. For the first time in human history, we possess the scientific tools to feed ourselves indefinitely without destroying the living systems upon which civilization depends. We just need to do it, and not get lost in the fog.
Go Deeper
Christopher, S.F., J.L. Tank, U.H. Mahl, B.R. Hanrahan, and T.V. Royer. 2021. Effect of winter cover crops on soil nutrients in two row-cropped watersheds in Indiana. Journal of Environmental Quality 50: 667-679.
Dudley, N., and S. Alexander. 2017. Agriculture and biodiversity: a review. Biodiversity 18: 45-49.
Eadie, J.M., and D.S. Karp eds. 2025. A Conservation Footprint for California Rice. Report to the California Rice Commission. University of California, Davis, and Point Blue Conservation Science. Pages: 73-85.
Hitt, L.G., M. Willmes, G. Whitman, M.C. Miner, C.A. Jeffres, R. Johnson, D.E. Cocherell, N.A. Fangue, and A.L. Rypel. 2025. Early evidence for establishment of a Chinook salmon population in a restored watershed. Ecosphere 16: e70207.
Imhoff, D., and C. Badaracco. 2019. The Farm Bill: A Citizen’s Guide. Island Press.
Jacinto, E., N.A. Fangue, D.E. Cocherell, J.D. Kiernan, P.B. Moyle, and A.L. Rypel. 2023. Increasing stability of a native freshwater fish assemblage following flow rehabilitation. Ecological Applications 33: e2868.
Johns Hopkins Center for a Livable Future. 2019. What If Every American Understood the Farm Bill? https://clf.jhsph.edu/about-us/events/what-if-every-american-understood-farm-bill?utm_source=chatgpt.com
Levine, A.S. 1982. Managing NASA in the Apollo era. The NASA History Series.
Lindenmayer, D.B., G.E. Likens, C.J. Krebs, and R.J. Hobbs. 2010. Improved probability of detection of ecological “surprises”. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 107: 21957-21962.
Piper, J. 2026. All of the Audacity: The Perfect Candidate. The View From Rural Missouri
Rosenzweig, M.L. 2003. Reconciliation ecology and the future of species diversity. Oryx 37: 194 - 205.
Rypel, A.L. and P.B. Moyle. 2024. Watching Native Fishes Vanish. California WaterBlog
Rypel, A.L. 2026. What Comes After Reductionism in Biology. Tangled Nature
Schulte, L.A., J. Niemi, M. Helmers, and Chris Witte. 2017. Prairie strips improve biodiversity and the delivery of multiple ecosystem services from corn- soybean croplands. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 114: 11247-11252.
Sharp, P., and S. Hockfield. 2017. Convergence: the future of health. Science 6325: 589.
White, K.P. 2017. Our ancestors’ dystopia now: indigenous conservation and the Anthropocene. pp. 206–215 in U. Heise, J. Christensen and M. Niemann M (eds) Routledge Companion to the Environmental Humanities. Routledge.
Stanford professor talks about his days as an intern for the Apollo program Stanford Report https://news.stanford.edu/stories/2019/07/intern-apollo-program
Glory Days Long Gone / The march of history leaves St. Joseph behind SFGate
Fun Facts About Apollo
More than 400,000 people worked on Apollo-related projects, spread across thousands of contractors, universities, and facilities.
NASA’s budget became enormous. At its peak in the mid-1960s, NASA consumed ~4% of the entire federal budget, far larger than today.
The famous “Houston, we have a problem” line was slightly different in real life. Astronaut Jack Swigert actually said: “Okay, Houston, we’ve had a problem here.”
The computers used during Apollo were primitive by modern standards. Modern smartphones vastly exceed Apollo guidance computers in processing power and memory.
During the Apollo 11 Moon Landing descent, mission control almost ordered an abort because of computer overload alarms.
Neil Armstrong almost ran out of fuel during landing. Estimates suggest only around 20–30 seconds of usable fuel remained at the time of the touch down.
Apollo generated major environmental and safety concerns. The Saturn V rocket was so powerful it created localized earthquakes near launch sites.
After the moon landing succeeded, public enthusiasm faded surprisingly fast. Several later Apollo missions received little public attention.
Apollo ended not because NASA lost the ability to go to the moon, but because political priorities changed. Rising costs from the Vietnam War, domestic unrest, and declining public interest weakened congressional support.
The late Apollo missions were the most scientifically advanced. Later crews stayed longer, traveled farther on the lunar surface, and collected far more geological data than Apollo 11.
The famous “Earthrise” photograph taken during Apollo 8. That photo influenced the modern environmental movement by helping people see Earth as a fragile ecosystem itself, alone and suspended in darkness.
This is fantastic. Ag production doesn’t have to be an environmental drain. There are better ways! Another good example from my neck of the woods (or prairie in this case?) of ranchers doing right by the land.
https://kansasreflector.com/2025/12/29/flint-hills-rancher-works-to-restore-biodiversity-of-imperiled-kansas-tallgrass-prairie-ecosystems/
Excellent piece Andrew. I’ll need to re-read…🤔. And those were not just “birds” in the flooded rice fields. Those were snow geese!! Holy Moley!! I’d love to see a flock of snows like that!