The Artemis II Mission to the Moon: Political Images of Planet Earth
On April 10, 2026, at 5:07 p.m. Pacific Daylight Time (PDT) in southwest San Diego, California, the Integrity capsule from the Artemis II lunar mission returned, splashing down on the surface of the infinite sea on the blue planet. The crew consisted of Reid Wiseman, a white American commander; Victor Glover, an African American pilot; mission specialist Christina Koch, a white American scientist; and white Canadian astronaut Jeremy Hansen. A seemingly "politically correct" team in a country with severe racist and patriarchal discrimination, and a growing xenophobic trend.[2]
Beyond the undeniable technological achievements of the Artemis II mission, the stunning images of space and the orbits of Earth and the Moon—provided by NASA’s official website and reproduced by numerous print and digital media outlets worldwide—were etched into the memory of humanity. From a visual distance of approximately 6,500 kilometers, the crew took and released several high-resolution photographs—with greater detail than in previous lunar missions—of the Moon’s surface, its craters, and even the "dark" side of this Earth satellite, captured with greater clarity beneath its eternal solar shadow.
This dark side of the Moon is never visible from Earth, but it was explored and photographed by the Luna 3 (Луна-3) probe in 1959, as part of the space program of the then-Soviet Union. This was made possible by the "theft" of the photographic film used in the American spy balloon Genetrix; a milestone that even inspired musical imagination, such as the album Dark Side of the Moon (1973) by the English progressive rock band Pink Floyd, whose anti-capitalist and ontological message was: There is no dark side to the moon, really; [as a] matter of fact it’s all dark. Beyond this terrifying fascination with the dark and the unknown, it was this view of our own world that triggered an enormous epistemological and political impact: the view of our own planet from the distance of outer space; the perception of the "blue marble," beautiful and vulnerable (fig. 1).
Figure 1. Harrison Schmitt, Blue Marble. NASA photograph AS17-148-22727, Apollo 17 mission, 1972.
Two iconic photographs from U.S. space missions have garnered enormous media attention, not only because of NASA’s technological capabilities, but also for having awakened a collective environmental consciousness on Earth. The first of these was the photograph taken by astronaut Bill Anders on December 24, 1968—that is, on Christmas Eve of a year marked by left-wing student uprisings in many countries, including Mexico. This "Earthrise,"[3] captured from the window of Apollo 8, served as propaganda for the state and even for the Christian religion (fig. 2). For example, the United States Postal Service featured on a stamp the words of the astronaut, who, from space, facing our planet, quoted the biblical text from Genesis: "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth." Imbued with a religious message, this photograph—distributed no longer as a "science fiction" motif but as a document of astronomical science—became one of the first catalysts of the environmental movement, which promoted planetary consciousness through a concrete vision of the risks of human civilization’s self-destruction and its biblical account of creation in Genesis.
Figure 2. William Anders, Earthrise. NASA photograph AS8-14-2383HR, 1968.
Fifty-seven years later, this scene was repeated with nearly the same visual composition and from a similar angle, but without the religious connotation. However, there was a small but significant difference: on April 7, 2026, the crew of Artemis II captured the "sunset of Earth." (fig. 3) One might speculate that, although cosmic rotation cyclically generates other "sunrises" following "sunsets," after more than half a century, both scientific research and environmental criticism—under the categories of the Anthropocene or Earth Overshoot Day—[4] have led to a negative view of the Earth.
Figure 3. Earthset before a total solar eclipse on its lunar flyby, April 6, 2026. Artemis II Mission (Photo: Newscom / EyePress / IMAGO. Credit: NASA).
Although this possible metaphorical understanding of "sunset" as "fall" remains at the level of speculation, there is no doubt that also the recent image of planet Earth from space generates a critical-environmental effect. With the Blue Marble photograph—taken in 1972 by the crew of the Apollo 17 mission from a distance of approximately 29,000 kilometers from Earth—[5] an icon of the environmental movements of the 1970s was coined, printed on banners and T-shirts, and featured in various logos of environmental organizations. This photograph, which enjoyed great media success—as evidenced by research on environmental history—[6] symbolizes the fragility of planet Earth and encourages its preservation: the image serves as a catalyst for ecological research and environmental preservation in the Anthropocene epoch.
For this reason, it was also essential to capture the Earth in this way during the Artemis II mission, albeit from a different geographical perspective. As early as 2015, a satellite from NASA’s Deep Space Climate Observatory (DSCOVR) recorded this view using an EPIC camera. But in both that shot and the one from Artemis II, one can observe the grayish hue of the "blue planet": a layer revealing Earth’s ever-present atmospheric pollution. As a result, NASA's EPIC team is working on visually correcting this effect to avoid potential critical-environmental interference in the viewing of this image.[7]
The two historical examples, Earthrise and Blue Marble, and their impact on the visual strategies of the Artemis II mission, demonstrate how images of Earth contain political potential, with media effects ranging from fascination, seduction, and propaganda on the one hand, to environmental criticism on the other. Aware of this latent political iconography in the missions to the Moon and the photographs of Earth taken during space travel, I propose the hypothesis that Artemis II was primarily a mission of imagery rather than scientific exploration of the Moon.
Critical analyses indicated that the mission did not reveal new astronomical findings or interpretations, but rather was a test flight of the SLS rocket for future missions involving a planned crewed landing on the Moon’s surface to establish a permanent observatory (under U.S. control). There were memorable anecdotes from the flight, such as astronaut Koch’s repair of the space toilet, but there are no tangible results to justify the very high cost of this trip around the Moon. The SLS (Space Launch System) rocket alone cost approximately $4 billion US dollars, so these shots of space, Earth, and the Moon are, perhaps, the most expensive photographs in the history of the image.
In this visual narrative, a strictly scenographic and propagandistic approach prevails, in which every detail is significant; for example, in terms of the political theory of colors. To cite one example: during the live broadcast of the return to Earth, with the splashdown in the Pacific, red-and-white striped parachutes were deployed which, against the backdrop of the starry blue sky, alluded to the American flag, the Stars and Stripes, while also evoking the colors of the Canadian flag in honor of the crew member from that country. And the fact is that, to date, American flags are the only national symbol on the Moon’s surface.
However, this "imperialist" claim of ownership over a celestial body poses a challenge to other nations that joined the race for global dominance of Earth’s natural satellite. While during the Cold War it was the Soviet Union that challenged the United States (its main ideological enemy), today it is China—but also India and Japan—that is vying for leadership in this scientific-political competition. For this reason, U.S. President Donald Trump "declared" that the next moon landing by American astronauts will take place in 2028 (the Chinese are planning theirs for 2030) as a means of demonstrating his country’s technological and military hegemony.
These endeavors, set against the backdrop of the Moon and its orbit, have a long and complex political iconography, from Yuri Gagarin to Artemis II. At every stage of this history, control over the image has prevailed. In the recent case, it is obvious that U.S. authorities sought to create positive imagery by censoring the material released: photographs, video recordings, and even live broadcasts, such as the splashdown of the Integrity capsule. The act of producing images and the attempt to direct the collective gaze toward an uncritical vision is a key principle of political iconography. In the case of Artemis II, the intention was to cement U.S. leadership in space and minimize criticism of this mission.
Spaceflight experts warn that by 2028 the necessary technology—namely, the lunar lander module and the spacesuit for lunar walks—will not be ready. China is likely to have a lead in the development of these devices; for this reason, the Trump administration instructed NASA to seek the support (well-paid, of course) of the techno-fascist Elon Musk (with his company SpaceX) and the opportunist Jeff Bezos (Blue Origin).[8] Both entrepreneurs have placed themselves at Trump’s service to prevent the Chinese from winning this race, since, according to journalist Christoph Seidler, this would send the message that the American century has come to an end,[9] giving way to a hostile takeover by Chinese power.
One telling detail underscores the importance of visual strategies in this conflict: during a presentation of the Artemis project—which aims to culminate in a moon landing—Republican Senator Ted Cruz used, in a hearing before the U.S. Congress on NASA, an AI-generated simulation titled "What Will 2030 Look Like?" The simulation depicts two scenarios: the first shows a pair of American astronauts on the Moon with Earth in the background (similar to the "Earthrise" photographs); the other shows three Chinese taikonauts raising a giant flag of their country.[10]
Through this simulation, members of Congress—who are responsible for funding such space missions—were warned that the United States could fail in this competition. It is a bad omen that digital imaging technology is being used to persuade; it is a "fictional test" in a political and technological process that seeks to manipulate the opinions of lawmakers. Furthermore, coverage of the Artemis II mission also served a political-media function by overshadowing the issue of the failed and self-destructive planning of the U.S. and Israeli war against Iran, at least until mid-June 2026.
All of this underscores the political significance of the production and use of images from Artemis II. Thus, from the official ideological standpoint, it is understandable that footage from the mission was censored. When the crew was brought off the Integrity by Navy personnel, we saw only happy faces—an understandable human reaction after the stresses of landing—accompanied by trivial and insubstantial statements, such as that of Commander Wiseman, who stated during the official welcome at NASA’s mission control center in Houston on April 11, 2026, that returning to Earth was something special.[11] However, nothing was said about humanity’s responsibility to preserve its planet. While the historic photographs of Earthrise and the Blue Marble spurred environmental criticism, it seems that the Artemis II images raised no questions regarding the Anthropocene. It is the task of future eco-aesthetic research to observe and analyze whether the images from Artemis II generate greater critical potential.
With the views of space still fresh in their minds, the commander and his crew might have reflected on the destruction of Earth caused by the excessive use of fossil fuels, chemical pollution, the processes of industrialization, hyper-urbanization, and, of course, wars. However, there was no message for the warmongers of the world: first, for the president of the United States; second, for the president of China, responsible for military aggression against Taiwan and against nearly all the neighboring countries in the Southeast Pacific. Nor was there one directed at the President of Russia, with his imperialist war against Ukraine, much less at the Prime Minister of Israel, with his devastating war against Palestine and Lebanon (to mention just four representatives from a long list of warmongers affecting the planet and its inhabitants).
All military activities kill and injure people, destroy cities and infrastructure, and pollute natural landscapes. Even during brief periods of peace, military infrastructure severely impacts the Earth’s environment and atmosphere. According to expert estimates, the U.S. military is the single largest consumer of energy in the country. For example, a B-52 fighter jet consumes as much fuel in one hour as the average driver does in seven years. However, these facts about energy consumption—and their impact on climate change—are excluded from discussions, as the Pentagon argues that this is a necessary investment for national defense. Also, on a larger scale, the same problem is evident in NATO: in 2021, for example, the allies of this North Atlantic defense system produced 200 million tons of CO2, which is equivalent to Spain’s annual emissions.
Data on military pollution is not included in global climate assessments, nor does it appear in visual media such as newspapers and the internet. Wars have the greatest environmental impact: tanks require large amounts of fuel (derived from fossil sources, which emits CO2 into the atmosphere), military operations contaminate soil and groundwater with heavy metals, oil, and toxic chemicals; and when refineries and power plants are bombed, large amounts of greenhouse gases, such as sulfur hexafluoride and methane, are released. Furthermore, the bombing of industrial and residential facilities—which requires post-war reconstruction—consumes enormous amounts of concrete and steel, materials whose production releases large amounts of CO2 and other toxic elements into the atmosphere.[12] For all these reasons, acts of war that cause profound damage to the environment constitute a crime under public international law.
Of course, commercial air travel and space missions play a key role in this critical situation. The launch of the SLS rocket for the Artemis II mission alone consumed 6,000 liters of fuel per second, which allows us to make a rough estimate of the toxic and destructive emissions released into our planet’s atmosphere. Beyond these scientific inquiries, a paradox emerges from the visual analysis: producing the breathtaking views from the Integrity capsule, documented in countless photographs and videos, is an act of environmental destruction. Not only do the visual documentation and the accompanying comments from astronauts, technicians, and administrators exclude any environmental criticism, but the very technical execution of the missions is part of a linear economy, driven by the polluting use of fossil fuels. Of course, such reflections—with their potential to illustrate and provoke "fossil" politicians and businesspeople, whose unsustainable management of the Earth is more than obvious—are absent from these commentaries on Artemis II, though they are present in eco-critical photography (such as that of Greenpeace).
What remains to be considered, then, is the political and media potential of the photographs—costly and, undoubtedly, fascinating—that Artemis II released to a global audience almost in real time. How can these images be used as tools for environmental research and education? The central objective of eco-aesthetic research on images of Earth from space is to generate subversive readings—alternatives to the official discourse of the U.S. government and its NASA agency— with the aim of provoking critical discourses that emerge from the fascination with the Artemis II photographs and subsequent series from other missions, both American and Chinese, since all will operate under similar principles of one-dimensional political propaganda.
To conclude this invitation to reflect on and examine these contradictions, I would like to mention a topic that is completely absent from all visual and verbal discourse regarding this type of mission: space debris, an unresolved problem created by humans—the only species on Earth that produces "waste"—and one that remains largely excluded from the collective consciousness.
The American flags—made of synthetic material, first planted on the lunar surface in 1969 by Buzz Aldrin and Neil Armstrong of Apollo 11, nearly half a century ago, and then on the following five manned missions—were just a tiny fraction of the trash exported by humans to our solar system.[13] Abandoned vehicles and other discarded tools were also left on the Moon. And this non-biodegradable "technomass," foreign to the Moon’s natural substance, will increase with the construction of a permanent lunar station, conceived by NASA, and most likely also by the Chinese space agency, adorned, of course, with its flag.
There are no photographs of this toxic anthropogenic legacy on the Moon. It is a taboo imposed so as not to dim the luster of the missions’ technological and media success. However, in 2019 NASA published a critical simulation of space to expose the extent of the problem of trash exported to the solar system: Earth’s orbit is surrounded by a corona of debris from broken-down satellites and other types of space junk. It is the updated counter-image of the Anthropocene set against the 1972 Blue Marble: the view of Earth’s outer landfill.[14] Worse still, the trash—the systematic export of human civilization’s problems into space—is also spreading to the planet Mars, where no human has yet set foot, but where unmanned missions have already left behind some ten tons of technical equipment, much of it broken.[15]
In short, apart from the aforementioned NASA simulation, there is no record—and therefore no visual awareness—of the environmental problems caused by space missions. Naive fascination prevails, an ideal vehicle for reinforcing the anachronistic ideologies of progress, conquest, and domination that reign in the one-dimensional and self-destructive development of planet Earth in the geochronological Anthropocene epoch—a problem also generated by missions to space.
Postscript. A figure from the pantheon of classical Greek mythology gave this lunar mission its name. Artemis, goddess of the hunt and the Moon, is Apollo’s twin sister. Her key attributes are the crescent moon, the bow, and the quiver of silver arrows. She is also depicted carrying a torch. As a subversive interpretation, I propose recoding these attributes: the bow and arrow as instruments to attack the destroyers of the Earth and to bring the light of the Enlightenment—through the "science of the image" (Bildwissenschaft)—to the urgent and controversial environmental debates.
Inserción en Imágenes: 15 de junio de 2026.
[1] He holds a Ph.D. in Art History from the University of Hamburg, where he studied in the Political Iconography program at the Warburg Haus. From 1996 to 1998, he served as a lecturer at the Universities of Hamburg and Bremen. Since 1998, he has been a full-time researcher at the Institute for Aesthetic Research at the National Autonomous University of Mexico, as well as a professor in the graduate programs in Architecture and Art History at the same institution.
[2] Given the discursive importance of superlatives in the United States, the media noted that Glover was the first African American; Koch, the first woman; Hansen, the first foreigner; and Wiseman, the veteran on a mission to the Moon.
[3] William Anders, Earthrise; NASA photograph AS8-14-2383HR, taken with a Hasselblad 500.
[4] On the Anthropocene, see: Paul Crutzen, "Geology of Mankind," Nature, vol. 415 (January 2002) ; Jan Zalasiewicz et al., The Anthropocene as a Geological Time Unit. A Guide to the Scientific Evidence and Current Debate (Cambridge University Press, 2019); "Anthropocene, Capitalocene, Chthulhocene. Donna Haraway in conversation with Martha Kenney," in Art in the Anthropocene. Encounters Among Aesthetics, Politics, Environments and Epistemologies, ed. Heather Davis and Etienne Turpin (Open Humanities Press, 2015), 256; Alexandra Witze, "Geologists Reject the Anthropocene as Earth’s New Epoch – After 15 Years of Debate," Nature, vol. 627 (March 2024): 249–250. See also the website of the International Commission on Stratigraphy; and that of Earth Overshoot Day.
[5] Harrison Schmitt, NASA photograph AS17-148-22727 (December 7, 1972), taken with a medium-format Hasselblad. For reasons of legibility and recognition, the subject (the African continent) was rotated 180° to achieve the traditional cartographic representation with the North Pole at the top and the South Pole at the bottom.
[6] Finis Dunaway, *Seeing Green. The Use and Abuse of American Environmental Images* (The University of Chicago Press, 2015); Joachim Radkau, *Die Ära der Ökologie. Eine Weltgeschichte* (Beck, 2011).
[7] The NASA website offers a technical explanation of how the photograph was taken and details the processing it underwent: "This color image of Earth was taken by NASA’s Earth Polychromatic Imaging Camera (EPIC), a four-megapixel CCD camera and telescope. The image was generated by combining three separate images to create a photographic-quality image. The camera takes a series of 10 images using different narrowband filters—from ultraviolet to near-infrared—to produce a variety of scientific products. The red, green, and blue channel images are used in these color images. The image was taken on July 6, 2015, showing North and Central America. The central turquoise areas are shallow seas around the Caribbean islands. This Earth image shows the effects of sunlight scattered by air molecules, giving the image a characteristic bluish tint. The EPIC team is working to remove this atmospheric effect from subsequent images."
[8] As for Musk, his statements and actions point to a clear neo-fascist stance; as for Bezos, his political interventions—as owner of The Washington Post—portray him as a subordinate of Trump. Both contribute to the political agenda of that presidency, which is aimed at eroding democracy and leading the United States toward a totalitarian state.
[9] Christoph Seidler, "Trump’s Big Moon Show," Der Spiegel, no. 16 (2026).
[10] Seidler, "Trump’s Big Moon Show."
[11] See the Spiegel Online article dated April 12, 2026.
[12] This information comes primarily from the radio report "Kriegsopfer Umwelt," produced by Sabine Kebir for Deutschlandfunk, January 2, 2025.
[13] The "Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter" from 2009 recorded the existence of nearly all the flags, except for the first one—that of Apollo 11 in 1969—which may not have been properly secured. These flags, purchased for the modest price of five dollars—the value of that currency at the time—appear to have been well preserved, despite the low temperatures and extreme ultraviolet radiation. It is likely that the flags have lost their color and are covered in lunar dust. See the report "Was wurde aus den Fahnen auf dem Mond?"
[14] In June 2019, NASA counted approximately 19,524 pieces of space debris orbiting Earth. See Peter Krieger, Basura en la naturaleza. Iconografía política, historia de las ideas y análisis forense de la Reserva Ecológica del Pedregal de San Ángel, en Ciudad de México (Institute for Aesthetic Research—National Autonomous University of Mexico, 2026). German edition: Peter Krieger, Müll in der Natur. Eine Mikrostudie zur politischen Ikonographie, Ideengeschichte und Forensik des Anthropozäns (Tectum Verlag, 2024).
[15] Peter Krieger, Trash in Nature, 25.
