Humans on the moon: 50 years after the last astronaut landed, we must go back if only to appreciate the 'overpowering beauty' of Earth – Martyn McLaughlin

There are few people, perhaps too few, who know the name of Gene Cernan. It does not form part of our shared cultural memory, nor is it widely taught in curricula around the world. His greatest achievement is one shared by only a handful of people in human history, yet nearly six years after his death, the commemorations remain insufficient.

But Cernan’s place in history is assured, and his mark remains there for all to see, if only we can muster the will to set eyes on it. That mark is not on this world, but on a strange realm nearly 240,000 miles away. It is there, on this day in 1972, that Cernan dropped to one knee, and with a single finger, inscribed ‘TDC’, the initials of his daughter, on its fine, dusty surface.

It seems jarring, and frankly preposterous, to consider that half a century has passed since that defining moment in his life. Such an interval of time spans generations, and speaks of a past which, if not yet out of sight, grows ever distant. The incredulity only multiplies when you bear in mind that Gene Cernan remains the last human to walk on the moon.

Then again, maybe it is not so surprising that such a title did not grant him enduring fame. By the time he made history, the appetite among the public for space exploration was badly lagging. The joy and amazement sparked by Apollo 11 just three years earlier had given way to an apathy that was crushingly evident come Apollo 17’s launch.

It is 50 years to the day since US astronaut Gene Cernan became the last person to set foot on the moon (Picture: AFP via Getty)

Some US television channels broke away from their regular programming to broadcast the Saturn V’s ascent from Kennedy Space Centre, only to be bombarded with complaints from viewers. By the time Cernan took his final steps on the moon a few days later, one network elected to show a repeat of a talk show.

Cernan never quite came to terms with the rejection, and the title that stayed with him for the rest of his life was not always a cause for celebration. “It is a very dubious honour,” he told The Observer 20 years ago. “It tells us how much we have not done, rather than how much we have done.”

Thankfully, recognition of Cernan and his fellow crew members – Harrison Schmitt and Ronald Evans – has been paid handsomely this week. On Monday, 50 years to the day that they landed on the lunar surface, Nasa’s Artemis 1 moonship arrived back after a 25-day test flight to the moon and back.

There was a pleasing synchronicity about the journeys, and the name of the newest craft is no accident; in Greek mythology, Artemis was not only the goddess of the hunt, but the twin sister of Apollo. Nasa has always had a keen eye on how its latest developments fit into the grand sweep of its own storied history.

It is hoped that the successful Artemis mission will pave the way for a new lunar programme, and by 2025, or 2026, Nasa hopes Cernan will no longer be the last of 12 human beings to set foot on the moon’s surface. Among them will be the first woman and the first person of colour – the new pioneers in an age which aims to establish a long-term lunar presence.

Unsurprisingly, the Artemis programme has not captured the public imagination in the way that Apollo did. Not yet, at least. Its detractors argue that putting humans on the moon was an achievement befitting an era of geopolitical posturing, and claim the expense of the £76 billion project is both unnecessary and vulgar in the current financial climate.

Even if there is to be a renewed effort to return to the moon, others ask why such an responsibility should be borne by a public agency when the private companies of Elon Musk, Jeff Bezos and other extraordinarily wealthy egotists have the drive, and deep pockets, to take the lead.

None of these arguments are without merit. Equally, none of them amount to a sufficiently compelling case. There are plenty of reasons to venture back to the lunar surface, the most obvious being that we still have much to learn. Since 1972, a succession of Nasa probes has been able to pinpoint vast craters in the moon’s south pole containing water ice. The prospect of being able to gather a far larger range of samples than any robots could help flesh out our understanding of the origins of our solar system.

There is also the not insignificant advantage of spurring new technologies. The Apollo program famously gave rise to cutting-edge electronics miniaturisation still widely used today via integrated circuits, and myriad other spin-offs can be seen all around us, from solar panels to memory foam.

A return to the moon would also allow Nasa and other agencies to amass the skills and experience that will be crucial if humanity is to fulfil one of its next great ambitions and set foot on Mars. As for the argument that private enterprise should shoulder the costs, that may be an option, but the genius of Nasa’s stewardship is that it spearheads a truly international effort, with the European Space Agency providing a key part of the Orion spacecraft.

But the most convincing reason to go back, surely, is not tied to scientific breakthroughs, but the human experience. It is a chance for us to look to the stars, to stir passions, and inspire new generations to break their own boundaries, whether here on Earth or further afield. Cernan, reflecting on his own experience, once said: "I looked back at this planet of ours and felt the logic and purpose and the overpowering beauty.” That wonder and awe stayed with him for the rest of his life. To deny others the same privilege would be a disservice to his legacy.