NASA Needs to Rename the James Webb Space Telescope - Scientific American

Because of its ability to see more deeply into spacetime than any instrument before it, the Hubble Space Telescope has completely transformed the way we see the universe and ourselves. The James Webb Space Telescope (JWST), often dubbed “the next Hubble,” promises to do the same. Slated to launch later this year, JWST will peer more deeply into the universe than any optical or infrared telescope before it, promising to show us a vision of galaxies in their infancy and probe potentially habitable worlds. Such data not only provide insight into the universe but also help us humans situate our concerns in context. It is therefore unfortunate that NASA’s current plan is to launch this incredible instrument into space carrying the name of a man whose legacy is at best complicated and, at worst, complicit.

James Webb, a career civil servant whose time at the Department of State under Truman included advancing the development of psychological warfare as a Cold War tool, was later the NASA administrator who oversaw the Apollo program. When he arrived at NASA in 1961, his leadership role meant he was in part responsible for implementing what was by then federal policy: the purge of LGBT individuals from the workforce. When he was at State, this policy was being carried out by men who worked under Webb. As early as 1950, he was aware of this policy, and there is clear evidence to suggest that he was involved in supporting Senate discussions that ultimately kicked off what is known today as the Lavender Scare.

Many astronomers feel a debt of gratitude for Webb’s work as NASA administrator. Appreciation and nostalgia for a time that NASA thrived during the Apollo program are understandable as motivations for using the JWST name. But while appreciation and nostalgia might be important motivations, they are not sufficient. While Webb may have played a positive role at NASA, his greater legacy beyond NASA is relevant. Without the knowledge of Webb’s silence at State and his participation in making psychological warfare a tool of the military industrial complex, perhaps our gratitude for his work was sufficient. With that knowledge, we think it is time to rename JWST because the name of such an important mission, which promises to live in the popular and scientific psyche for decades, is a reflection of our values.

Around 2015, the history of Webb’s complicity with persecution came to light. Although some astronomers reacted at the time, many in the community believed the opportunity to change the telescope’s name had passed. Recently, an astronomer reconstituted this conversation in a personal blog, highlighting the fact that a homophobic quote was misattributed to Webb on his Wikipedia page (click here for the original version of the post. Spurred by this attempt to cleanse Webb’s image, astronomers on social media began to argue that in the absence of this specific quote, Webb was not responsible for homophobic activity.

But nothing central has changed. Webb was in leadership and in decision-making discussions as the Lavender Scare unfolded. Additional archival evidence, found by Columbia astronomer Adrian Lucy in the aftermath of the blog’s publication with a quick search of the archives, underlines Webb’s role as a facilitator of homophobic policy discussions with members of the Senate.

As a person in a management position, Webb was ultimately responsible for the policies enacted under his leadership, including homophobic policies that were in place when he later became NASA administrator. Some argue that if Webb was complicit, so was everyone working in the administration at the time. We agree. Thankfully, NASA is not launching a telescope named after the entire administration, and individually its members would be poor choices for the honor for some of the same reasons that Webb is. 

Some might be tempted to see the proposal to rename JWST as litigating decades-old history, but in fact, discrimination against queer people, including scientists, affects the lives and career outcomes of many today and tomorrow. In 2016, the American Physical Society released the “LGBT Climate in Physics” report. A core result of the report was that many queer scientists fundamentally do not feel safe in their workplaces. The climate is exclusionary, and physicists with overlapping minoritized identities, including LBGT+ physicists of color, experience the most harassment and exclusion. LGBTQIA+ astro/physicists exist, and are marginalized. A 2021 study published in Science finds similar outcomes. 

This fact is not new but rather a continuation of history that dates back to Webb’s era. Frank Kameny was an astronomer who was hired by the U.S. Army Map Service. When he was unwilling to provide information about his sexual orientation, he was investigated and subsequently fired. His failure to win justice through the courts for gay rights in the military led him to spend the rest of his life as an activist. Though today’s queer liberation organizing encourages us to question our relationship to the U.S. military, Kameny’s case is a clear example of homophobic injustice during the era when Webb was active.

At a time when the same hypermasculinist fears that characterized the Lavender Scare and other ideological purges during the Cold War also animate the current incarnation of far-right movements across the globe, what signal does it send to current and future generations of scientists when we prioritize the legacies of complicit government officials over the dreams of the next generation? With the launch of JWST just a few months away, and a new presidential administration (and a new NASA administrator) taking the helm, NASA has an opportunity to choose a namesake for JWST that will embrace a future of freedom and inspiration for all. 

This struggle is neither limited to science, nor the past: Just a few months ago, Representatives Castro and Cicilline introduced the LOVE Act, which “requires the State Department to set up an independent commission to review the cases of individuals who were fired since the 1950’s as a result of their sexual orientation, receive testimony, and correct employment records.” Passage of the LOVE Act would prompt not only an apology from Congress for its past complicity in the Lavender Scare, but would provide protections for queer diplomats at home and abroad. 

The legacy of James Webb is so far from the freedom dreaming that is possible through the lens of a telescope, and it is time for NASA to change the name to something better. We will use this new telescope to learn about galactic histories, which will provide insight into the fate the universe holds for us. We hope we have already learned some of the lessons about how humanity will move towards the future here on Earth rather than repeating mistakes of the past. There will always be complications when it comes to naming monuments or facilities after individuals. No hero is perfect. 

Yet we can certainly name incredible heroes who worked tirelessly to liberate others. Before she became a conductor on the Underground Railroad, a disabled and enslaved Harriet Tubman likely used the North Star, just as Henry Bibb did, to navigate to freedom. Naming “the next Hubble” the Harriet Tubman Space Telescope (HTST) would ensure that her memory lives always in the heavens that gave her and so many others hope. The HTST could also serve as a reminder that the night sky is a shared heritage that belongs to all of humanity, including LGBTQIA+ people. The time for lionizing leaders who chose to be embedded in a history of harm is over. We should name telescopes out of love for those who came before us and led the way to freedom, and those who are coming up after us who should be cherished.

This is an opinion and analysis article.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR(S)

Chanda Prescod-Weinstein

Chanda Prescod-Weinstein is an assistant professor of physics and core faculty in women's and gender studies at the University of New Hampshire. She researches dark matter, neutron stars and how ascribed identities shape knowledge in physics and is the author of The Disordered Cosmos: A Journey into Dark Matter, Spacetime, and Dreams Deferred.

Sarah Tuttle

Sarah Tuttle is an assistant professor of astronomy at the University of Washington, Seattle. She builds astronomical instruments that have been deployed at observatories around the world and sub-orbitally. Her primary area of study is the gas flow in and out of galaxies across redshifts, and she works to reimagine science frameworks through justice and equity.

Lucianne Walkowicz

Lucianne Walkowicz is an astronomer at the Adler Planetarium in Chicago, and co-founder of the JustSpace Alliance. Walkowicz studies the ethics of space exploration, stellar magnetic activity, how stars influence a planet's suitability as a host for alien life, and how to use advanced computing to discover unusual events in large astronomical data sets.

Brian Nord

Brian Nord is a scientist at Fermi National Accelerator Laboratory and the University of Chicago. He designs algorithms to decode the shape and evolution of the universe from cosmological experiments, and he works to re-imagine and re-build research spaces to be just and equitable.